As I write this, it is close to six months since my third colon cancer removal surgery on July 16, 2024.  The surgery was a success. All but 15 inches of my colon was removed.  A colon is generally about five feet long. 

Let’s start this post with the conclusion.  I’m feeling good. My doctors say I’m doing well. My lab results say I’m doing good. I smile more often and more easily than I have for a long time.  Ten thousand step days are routine and I feel good doing them. I’m able to write coherent sentences again. I’m happy. 

Last week I had a sigmoidoscopy, which is like a mini colonoscopy.   My colon is short. A colonoscopy is too big a tool for my size of colon.  My colon / rectal surgeon, who also did the sigmoidoscopy, said my colon looks to have healed well from my surgery and there is no sign my cancer has returned. 

FYI: the prep for a sigmoidoscopy is much easier than for a colonoscopy.  A couple of enemas, one two hours pre procedure and the other an hour before.  Not fun but colonoscopy prep is much more.  They did not take a biopsy of anything because they didn’t see anything unusual to get tested. Good news. 

As has been the case from each of my cancer surgeries, recovery from this last surgery is about recovering from the surgery itself.  Then you live with the consequences of whatever was removed. 

Life with one kidney means a bit less energy.  Life without a prostate means wearing a thin pad for minor leakage.  Life with less colon means your pooping routine is more frequent and a bit looser stool. 

Life with only about fifteen inches of colon is very livable however it changes things.   A colon removes moisture from your poop and stores the poop until enough has accumulated, at which time you feel the urge and you do what one does to get rid of the urge. 

With only about a fifth of a colon, even less moisture is removed and there is even less room for storage. The results are you poop more often and the poop is very moist. It takes several months to happen but the bottom portion of your small intestine learns to act a bit like a colon by performing some of the drying and storing.  Some drying and storing is better than nothing. 

I also take an Imodium and some psyllium with orange juice in the morning and before dinner. It helps. All that said, I now poop several times a day.  According to my surgeon, my new normal will evolve as both me and my colon adjusts to each other.  

I learned that eating a whole bag of caramel corn while watching a hockey game was not a good idea.  Several hours later and several times that night my small colon decided to rid itself of this irritation.  I happened to have an appointment with my surgeon a couple days later.  He laughed out loud.  Yep, it will be a learning experience.  However, I will learn what works and what doesn’t.  

Every three months I meet with my oncologist.  A week prior, there is a CT scan.  A half hour before the meeting they draw nine vials of blood and do a complete work up.  

They send one of the vials of  blood to a lab somewhere.  The lab looks at the molecular level to see if there are any signs of cancer.  Apparently this isn’t foolproof, however, for someone who has had cancer five times, it’s worth a try and Medicare agrees. 

The nice thing about getting comprehensive blood work every three months is there is a record and as a result they will know about any changes.  Essential for cancer diagnosis however also helpful for other medical conditions.

My hemoglobin, for example, has increased to a good level. I only have one kidney so my hemoglobin is not “normal” but probably as close to normal as a one kidney person can get.  

As for my life now, I no longer think about my cancer several times every day or even several times a week.  I am not in denial but mostly I think about other stuff.  Important stuff like, do I want a new phone, or I’m glad it is snowing so I can use the snowblower.  I used the cordless blower for the light snowfalls and it works really well.  Just thinking about how well the leaf blower worked on the light snow makes me smile. 

Over the past month or so I’ve done a lot of walking.  I listen to music or audio books, say hi to neighbors, watch the leaves rustle down the street during the light snow flurry as the wind blows.  I dress appropriately.  It is nice to be on an extended walk not having to frequently stop to take a break due to low hemoglobin. 

I am feeling better than I have felt in many years.  I poop several times a day but mostly it is not an emergency type situation.  I can go to plays, movies, and games. I can go to parties. I can walk around Como lake.  So my life is good. 

When I go to the oncologist office now, I walk by a large room where patients get infusions for treatment of their various types of cancer. It is a quiet, calm place.  Some of the infusions take several hours.  Some of those getting infusions are engaged in a life threatening battle.  Contrary to what you might think, in that room,  there is a sort of overwhelming sense of hope.  

I’m doing well and I have a strong sense of hope.  

The closer you look, the more you see.