the gift of a box of darkness

artwork by Kari Moden

It was a snowy and cold but glorious afternoon in Boston in February when I woke up from my colonoscopy and heard my surgeon's voice through a partially sedated fog. No signs of cancer. The CT scan I had a few days earlier at Brigham & Women's showed the same clean and healthy colon that Dr. Bleday saw during the colonoscopy. Robbie heroically drove me to and from Boston in the thick of a snow storm and between the lasting effects of the sedation and the relief of good news, I slept better than I had in a very long time.

Though I didn't fully realize it at the time, looking back now I see how anxious I was in the weeks leading up to the colonoscopy. At the time, I was slowly but surely regaining my energy but holding off on making plans for much of anything. I had a distinct memory of hearing the words, "we found cancer" upon waking up from my last colonoscopy almost exactly one year ago. Even though this colonoscopy was not likely to end in the same way, the memory was loud and strong. But now that it is behind me and I will (try to) relax for a few months until it's time for my next scan this summer. From here on out for the next two years, I will continue to be screened with blood tests and a physical exam every 3 months, and a CT scan and sigmoidoscopy every 6 months. I am committed to working on managing my fear of recurrence and scanxiety, as we survivors call it, but I also recognize this will now be a part of my life that I will need to make a space for and preferably a comfortable one, so I can move forward keeping cancer in the 
rear-view.

I am always happy to hear from friends and family that they have scheduled or gone in for a colonoscopy. In fact, my father-in-law decided that was the best way he could celebrate his birthday this year! He too woke up from his procedure to good news and then went off to celebrate. As you likely know or have heard the colonoscopy itself is relatively quick and painless-it is the preparation leading up to it that can be unpleasant at best. But for anyone reading this has been putting one off, I would like to add that the infamous preparation is not nearly as bad as it used to be nor anywhere near as bad as waking up to the words I heard the first time. 

https://health.clevelandclinic.org/fretting-about-your-colonoscopy-new-prep-routine-is-easier-to-swallow/

I do still have my port installed on my upper left chest. After the colonoscopy my surgeon said I should go ahead and have it removed, but at this point I feel some superstition about having it removed, like I might be tempting fate. So I'll leave it in place for a while longer until the time feels right to call and schedule an appointment to have it removed. In this same vein, but not the same physical vein as my port, I am reluctant to declare an end to my cancer journey. Though coming through these recent tests with a clean bill of health one year from my diagnosis does feel like an appropriate time to to dwell on my appreciation for the good fortune I have had over this past year to be surrounded by and cared for by so many friends and family who have generously shared their love and support with me and our family. Thank you! 

I was sad to hear in January that one of my favorite poets, Mary Oliver had passed away, of cancer no less. Yet, I was reminded of how comforting her words have been to me at various times, and especially this... now...