By the afternoon of the CT scan, we were scheduled to come in nice and early to meet with the surgeon the next day. My dad joined us at the appointment as an extra set of ears, as moral support and as a concerned father. It started to rain as we made our way there, but my dad had arrived in time to see a rainbow form before the storm. He took it as a clear message from above that everything was going to be alright, and as we rolled into the rainy parking lot, I had to mediate on that to help keep myself composed.
We are all relying heavily on our faith and had seen God work already in the brief journey we'd already been on. We have to know that He sees the big picture, and knowing that everything is going to be alright doesn't necessarily mean in the short term or that we're always going to get the greatest of news. We have to step back in faith and trust that God is doing a greater work that we can't see yet, and the path may not always be smooth along the way.
The CT scan confirmed the tumor, because apparently it needed another pat on the back. The little photo I had from the colonoscopy apparently wasn't enough. It also revealed that my liver was clean, which was great news when it comes to cancer. When colon cancer spreads, the first place it goes is to the liver. So a clean liver meant that it hadn't metastasized, and we could rule out Stage IV cancer.
Because colon cancer is so rare in people under the age of 50, and there was a family history, I was going to be tested for a colon cancer gene. Yes, there is one, and it's called HNPCC or Lynch Syndrome. Those results aren't in yet, but they could have a major impact on the rest of my life as a "cancer patient" if they come back positive. We'll cross that bridge if and when we have to.
The one concern that did arise out of the CT scan was the proximity of the tumor to my uterus. They could tell a lot from the scan, but not that much. Because there was a chance the tumor could have grown out of the colon wall and attached to my uterus, it may have to go. My baby box was closed for business, so the initial anticipation of never having a period again was very enticing. I wasn't out burning my remaining tampons over a bonfire yet, but I was imagining life without them and it was very pleasant.
This revelation meant that after pre-op blood work for the surgeon, we'd need to go and meet with a gynocologist for another pre-op appointment. She would be in the OR on the day in case her talents were needed. She was great, funny and brightened up our day a little. She also prepared us that my left ovary might have to come out as well. Everything is very intimate down there, so the chances of things being attached were good. Again, it was all a matter of the tumor making its way through the colon wall. Losing one ovary wouldn't be detrimental to my hormone production per the funny lady doctor, but I wasn't so sure.
In the end, it was what it was and if it all needed to go, it needed to go.
After that appointment, she sent us to the actual hospital for more pre-op blood work and waiting. And we thought would only take a few hours ended up talking all day. We were able to firm up a surgery date and I could rest easy knowing I'd have a few days to get my mother-in-law acclimated to our daily life. She was flying in that night to rescue us and run the household while Kyle and I went into surgery mode.
That would be my biggest Godsend during this time. To know that I could focus on the surgery, my stay in the hospital and healing at home while not having to not micromanaging every detail of my kid's lives was priceless. I had no choice but to let go of control and shift over to my Type B personality. If anyone has found my Type B personality, let me know and please send it over. I'm still waiting to shift over to it.