May 8, 2011

I heard an odd little story on a comedy station in the car this morning…

Once upon a time, a young woman put some cream in her butter churn, but she didn’t have time to churn it.  She took it down to the creek and set it in the water to keep it cool until she could return.

Two frogs came along and had the unfortunate luck to hop right into the butter churn.  They immediately started kicking to stay afloat and tried mightily to jump out, but they could not.  One frog decided the situation was hopeless, so he gave up and drowned.  The second frog kept kicking and kicking and kicking, until, at last, his efforts churned the cream into butter, and he was able to hop out.

What a happy little moral about not giving up.  Still, what was it doing on a comedy station?  It seemed random and out of place, but then, I realized this cheesy little story was the perfect metaphor for my life at this moment.

I have cancer.

I found out last Thursday, when a colonoscopy meant to confirm a diagnosis of ulcerative proctitis instead revealed a tumor.  Splash!  Into the butter churn I went. 

I don’t know much more than what I’ve already written here.  They found a tumor and sent the biopsy out.  The doctor seems to think it’s just a formality; he’s convinced it’s malignant, and I see no reason to doubt him.  I’m off to the surgeon tomorrow and hope to have a Pet-CT scan on Tuesday to see if the cancer has metastasized.  Then I’ll finally learn just how much of my colon I’m going to lose and whether or not chemotherapy is in my future.

Until then I am waiting…and thinking.  This limbo period is a special kind of Hell.  My thoughts swing on a wild pendulum ride from one extreme to another.  One moment I’m confident it’s all going to be ok.  I’ll come through this stronger and healthier, with a new appreciation for life.  The next I’m imagining the worst and thinking of my kids and husband going through life without me.

I’ve also had some strangely humorous thoughts.  In the car, moments after getting the news, I couldn’t help but think, “Colorectal cancer?  You’ve got to be kidding me! Of all the types of cancer out there, I mean, seriously, I’ve got butt cancer, why couldn’t I get one of the cool cancers?”  Gregg and I were cracking up.  Then I thought, “If there is a ribbon for butt cancer, it better not be brown!” (A little research determined that the colorectal cancer ribbon is actually blue, but brown is an alternate color).

So here I am, a frog in a butter churn – hoping to find some solid footing.  Until my next post, I’ll just keep kicking.