Many of you know me as SingleDad from my blog Disabled Daughter. For six years I blogged about my life as a single father with two severely disabled children. Pearlsky lived with me; David was in a residential school. I stopped blogging when life became difficult for reasons known by the followers of that blog. But here I am. No longer a single dad, and quickly becoming disabled myself.

I was diagnosed with stage 3 colorectal cancer on April 24, 2018. There have already been so many events that I want to blog about. Events with me, with Pearlsky, with Inanna, and more.

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And by the way, cancer sucks.

I noticed when I went to the bathroom that it started feeling a bit different; I did not give it much thought. Then one day I saw a bit of blood. Ugh. Figuring maybe it was an internal hemorrhoid or whatever, I held out knowing I was going to see my internist in a few weeks.

She put in an order for an “urgent” colonoscopy. She said that they label them “urgent” if there are any symptoms.

The lab called about two weeks later to schedule. I asked if insurance covered it and they assured me it did. When I told them I was having insurance issues over the doctor visit, they said I could call the billing department and they would do an insurance check or something. I did that to make sure … The billing department said they would run it by the insurance company and get back to me in a few days. They called back and said that I was not covered and the test would cost me between seven and eight thousand dollars, out of pocket. Screw that. So I waited and tried to figure out what to do.

I still occasionally saw some blood and what-have-you. And then I remembered Dr. Z. His brother was my internist for about 30 years and he was the head of GI in our big city teaching hospital. He did my colonoscopy about 12 years ago, I would see if he was still doctoring. Yes he was, but not seeing patients so to speak, only doing procedures. But his hospital takes my insurance with no issues. I scheduled a test. Ideally, at my age, I should have a test every 10 years or so.

In case you don’t know, a colonoscopy is a procedure where the doctor takes a camera on the end of a long flexible wire/tube/thing (sort of like a selfie stick, but nothing like a selfie stick) (and no, don’t use a selfie stick) and, well, looks inside your colon. Your colon ends at your butt, and that is where the doctor starts. Your colon needs to be clean, and that is the preparation. The night before you either take a couple of pills and drink a lot of water, or some other similar method chosen by your doctor. You then find yourself spending a good amount of time on the toilet if all goes well. For whatever reason, I barely went once. I called the lab in the morning before going and they said to drink some more and come in. Again, minimal results, but ok, easy enough. I took public transportation to the hospital as you must have someone drive you home.

On the gurney, wearing a hospital gown, I got an IV and the doctor comes in. Some pleasantries and then I tell him that over the last few months I passed a bit of blood and it feels like I have internal hemorrhoids. “We will find out” he says, and I am sedated.

As I start to wake up from the sedation Dr. Z. looks at me and says

You have colorectal cancer. It looks to be primary, and you will probably need radiation, surgery and a temporary colostomy. I am sure the biopsy will confirm this. I will get you an appointment with one of our best surgeons.

Still mostly sedated, I did not say much of anything. About twenty minutes later I went to the bathroom to change into my clothes. When I came out, Inanna was waiting to take me home. She said the doctor already told her I had cancer.

It was a very quiet ride home.

The two-mile drive home felt like an eternity.

I decided right then that I would not tell my mom and sister until I knew a lot more, or until I had to, and furthermore I decided I was not going to do any research on the Internet. Period.

Growing up, just about anyone I knew that had cancer, died of cancer. I have cancer. Hence, logic and rationality be damned, I was going to die of cancer. And, actually, I very well may die of cancer.

The car was very quiet. Inanna did not know what to say and I am sure she was trying to process this as I was. We had very little information, only knowing that we would have the biopsy results in a few days and a surgeon’s office would call this week.

When I got home, the first thing I did was kiss Pearlsky (my 25 year old severely disabled daughter) and lie down on my bed. It was quiet, and I have recently learned that quiet is not so good. What will happen to Pearlsky when I am gone? Am I prepared to die? There is so much to do logistically. And what about my mother? How will she deal with this? I can’t believe this is it. Fuck.

The next evening I gave a talk in a school district about 40 minutes away. The drive home was on a dark somewhat winding road, and it was raining. I was trying to follow my GPS, watch the road, and not get killed. Yep, and not get killed. The car was quiet, the road was dark, and I was thinking of the irony of that. Anyone of us can die at any time, and on some level we know that (at least after age 16 or so, until then we are invincible). The difference is, I probably know how I am going to die, and I have a better idea of the time frame. Logically I knew that I actually knew nothing, other than I wanted this thing out of me. Yesterday.

Dr. Z called the next day and asked how I was doing. “Crappy” was my only retort. He told me the biopsy is back and that the tumor is “low grade.” “Is that good or bad?” I asked. “Definitely better than high grade. The surgeon’s office will call soon.”

Ok, the first good news! My cancerous tumor is low grade! YES! So I pick up the phone to call and tell mom the good news … then I remember she does not know the bad news. And I am not about to tell her. Oh well, I text Inanna and distract myself from thinking that every ache and pain I have is a secondary tumor.

This is Dr. C’s office, from the Colon and Rectal Surgery Group. We have an appointment scheduled for you for May 9^th at 2:00 with Dr. C, Dr. A and Dr. P. You are scheduled for a CT scan at 8:00 AM the same day and an MRI at 10:00.

I went with my closest friend to her first meeting with the surgeon for her breast cancer. I remember it well, the radiologist, the surgeon, and the reconstructive plastic surgeon. I did not ask who the other doctors I would be meeting were, somehow I didn’t think I was getting breast reconstruction. But one can hope.

Here is all I knew:

There you have it. I have two weeks to wait for any more tests and to learn what is happening. It is a good time to curl into a ball and let my imagine to crazy. Or I can be proactive.

Hey, want to see my tattoo?