It’s now been almost a year since my surgery, and almost six months since I finished chemotherapy (I can’t believe it’s been that long already), so my oncologist has ordered some follow-up tests. I had a colonoscopy this past Monday, and I have a CT scan this weekend. Then, I meet with my oncologist at the end of the month, and if all of the results are good, then we can schedule my port to come out, and the so-called “monitoring phase” can begin, at which point I’ll go in quarterly for blood tests and check-ins.

If you’ve never had a colonoscopy, go read Dave Barry’s column from 2009. It’s hysterical, and it’s actually a pretty good description of what happens. The procedure itself is easy, since you’re basically unconscious for the whole thing. The prep, as they say, is the worst part. However, even that isn’t terrible. You have to drink a bunch of stuff and then go to the bathroom a lot. It’s uncomfortable, but it’s not horrible. CT scans, on the other hand, are a cakewalk. You can’t eat or drink for a few hours before hand, but otherwise, you just lay on a table that moves in and out of a large donut-shaped scanner. The whole thing takes about 15 minutes and then you’re done.

I’ve been worried about these tests. Based on all the statistics of cases similar to mine, without the chemotherapy, the rate of recurrence was 30%. With the chemo, it’s 15%. While it’s great that it’s cut in half, 15% is still much too high a number for me to feel completely “safe”, regardless of how optimistic my doctors have been. Conversely, I’d take an 85% bet almost any day, but that doesn’t help me feel much better. I’ve been trying not to let it get to me too much, but I’ve been a little bit on edge for the last couple of weeks, and I’ve been having a lot of discomfiting stress dreams.

My colonoscopy went fine. The doctor didn’t see anything wrong: no polyps, no tumors. He took some biopsies at the site where things were spliced back together after the surgery, which I’m told is standard procedure, and I’ll get the results of those in a couple of days, but based on what he saw, there’s no reason to think that those biopsies will be cancerous.

I’m actually more concerned about my CT scan. According to my oncologist, it’s less common for colon cancer to recur in the colon and more common for it to spread somewhere else. While I haven’t had any symptoms that would lead me to believe that there’s something wrong, I’m not exactly feeling like the odds have been in my favor lately when it comes to my health.

So… fingers crossed and all that. I’ll know more at the end of the month.

Photo Credit

Photo courtesy of Dave Barry and the Miami Herald.

Last weekend was my niece’s bat mitzvah, and on the same weekend in 2012 we celebrated my nephew’s bar mitzvah. Last year, after the service and the party, I went back to my aunt and uncle’s house and, since everyone was in from out of town, told half of my family that I had cancer and was going to need surgery.

A lot can happen in a year.

I knew that I’d been ignoring this blog, but I was surprised to see when I went back and looked that the last time I posted was in March. I’d intentionally not thought much about posting, partially because there wasn’t a lot of news or big events once my treatment stopped, and mostly because I needed to feel like my life could return to being about other things.

That said, here’s a brief update:

Overall, I feel good. I still have some tingling and numbness in my hands and feet from the neuropathy, but I’m dealing with it. It’s somewhat better in my hands, though I can still feel it there, and it’s still reasonably strong in my feet. My oncologist has told me more than once that it could take somewhere between 6-12 months for it to fade completely, so for now I’m just sticking with it. Besides that, any and all other side effects are completely gone, and my energy and general “how I feel” day to day are normal.

My last appointment with my oncologist was at the beginning of May, and everything looked good. My general blood work (red/white/platelet counts) were all trending back up, and my CEA level was 1.2, which is also good (below 5 is normal).

Later this month I have some follow up tests: a CT scan and a colonoscopy. Then, I’ll meet with my oncologist, and if everything looks good, then we get to schedule the removal of my port.

It’s hard to describe what it’s been like to get back to normal. Since I was working during my treatment and, with the exception of the first few days of each cycle, I wasn’t incapacitated, there’s a lot of day-to-day life that didn’t change. Plus, the neuropathy and still having my port in (and the requisite trips to the hospital every six weeks to have it flushed) continue to remind me that things aren’t “over” yet. It took me a good two to three months before I felt like I could really breathe again (figuratively speaking).

So now, here I am holding my breath again, just trying to get past this month’s tests and keeping my fingers crossed for good news. By the time I see my oncologist at the end of the month, it’ll be just over a year from when I had surgery to take out the tumor in my colon. And as we’ve established…

A lot can happen in a year.