Tomorrow, around noon hour, my wife and I will be meeting with my surgical oncologist to review the pathologist's report on the five biopsy samples taken during my sigmoidoscopy last Wednesday. Tomorrow is, as you can imagine, a very important day for us both.
Over the past year and a half, not much seems have gone well medically. Apart from the surgery itself, which spared me the indignity of a colostomy, most medical test results have yielded results which have gathered near the "worst case" scenario end of the spectrum. That all changed this past December when we met with the surgical oncologist to get the pathologist's report from the colonoscopy at the end of November. Despite his worries during the procedure, the pathologist reported no evidence of recurrent cancer in the biopsy sample. The the roller coaster ride began again with another CT scan, another MRI, a meeting of the gastrointestinal tumor board, and yet another sigmoidoscopy and gathering of biopsy samples.
Tomorrow could either be one of the best days of my life or one that I would rather forget.
If I say that I'm feeling cold, it's not just because of the frigid temperatures we're experiencing in south-western Ontario these days. It's not just because the bottom of my feet feel perpetually frost bit because of the lingering side effects of last year's chemotherapy. It's because my future hinges, to some extent at least, on the news my surgical oncologist gives us tomorrow. Wiarton Willy didn't see his shadow on Groundhog Day, meaning folklore says we'll have an early spring this year. I hope that's right.
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