When my parents arrived for mom’s scheduled colonoscopy they were told that the appointment had been changed to the next week. Apparently, someone from their office had spoken with my mother, but she didn’t remember. Since she had done everything necessary to prepare, the doctor was kind enough to perform it. What he found was that the hemorrhoid was not a hemorrhoid, but a tumor and he did a biopsy. When the results came back my father understood that it was not cancer, but the kind of tumor that could become cancer. Mom was then sent to a colon and rectal specialist and that’s when we heard the “C” word. Cancer. Rectal cancer. Very nonchalantly and with a shrug of his shoulders this doctor told us that it indeed was cancer. All of this occurred within a two-week period.
There were days I just cried. All day. The tears ran down my face and there was nothing I could do to stop them. I was so overwhelmed. My husband was wonderful and understanding, yet still the tears kept coming. My children called daily to check on me. The ladies in my office were kind. When they walked in and saw the tears they quietly walked back out, knowing there was nothing they could do to comfort me. And I’m not a crier. Never have been. But things had changed.
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