Colon Cancer

Join the Conversation on
Colon Cancer
1.2K people
0 stories
196 posts
  • About Colon Cancer
  • Note: The hashtags you follow are publicly viewable on your profile; you can change this at any time.
  • Explore Our Newsletters
  • What's New in Colon Cancer
    Community Voices


    Part 1 of 2 I was cold. Even with six blankets piled on me, I was shivering and could not get warm.

    I held the EMT’s hand while in the ambulance. I worried that I was being too much trouble and kept apologizing.

    I always apologize.

    I latched on to my wife’s hand once we were together in the ER.

    Her touch. Warm. Safe. Familiar.

    I know her eyes. I observed them. They looked tired. Red around the edges.

    I was a boat filling with water, and she kept me from sinking.

    I was holding on for dear life and not sure if I was going to stay afloat.

    What I didn’t know until much later, was that her worries for me, and the countless other challenges we were facing – financial, parenting, work, and the daily barrage of hate-filled politics and division, had worn her down to the point that she was praying a plane would fall from the sky and crash into us.

    It sounds extreme now, but at the time, she just wanted it all to be over.

    She remembers the moment as if it were yesterday.

    She thought the warm sunshine and the fresh air might help, so she encouraged me to take a short walk. And she needed a break.

    I started out alone, made it as far as a bench across the street from our home, and frantically called her to come sit with me. I couldn’t handle being alone.

    She joined me. Like a young child, I put my head in her lap, and began to cry.

    She remembers hearing a plane flying overhead and longed for it to crash into us.

    “Death would be easier than this.” She thought to herself.

    It was all too much.

    It is too much.

    Cold fluid from a clear bag filled my veins. I began to shiver. More blankets.

    I looked and smelled like a basket of dirty laundry.

    The sounds and sights of the emergency room plowed through my head like a train.

    My arms burned, my heart raced, my vision was foggy.

    And I was trying to come up with a way to tell my daughter that I was dying.

    I told Kristin that I needed her to be in the room when we told our daughter that I was dying. She just looked at me then told me to close my eyes and get some rest.

    That’s her way of telling me to shut the hell up.

    My head was telling me I was dying. My stomach was telling me I was dying. WebMD was telling me I was dying.

    But I wasn’t dying.

    I didn’t have colon cancer – even though I had every indication of cancer based on the bowel movement color-chart on WebMD.

    The echocardiogram showed that my heart was healthy – even though I could feel it beating not only in my chest, but in my ears, and in my toes. Kristin had to hide the three blood pressure monitors we have at home.

    I wasn’t having a stroke, even though I told Kristin that I thought my pupils were different sizes and my arm hurt.

    God bless her.

    I’ve since learned that I was in the throes of a prolonged panic attack, and I did not understand what was going on.

    It had taken control of my body, mind, and soul. And I had allowed it to do so.

    I have always been a worrier. My brain on spin cycle – fixated on the what-ifs. Spinning out of control – especially at night.

    We purchased our home in early 2017. Hurricane Harvey made landfall south of us not all that long after we started to feel settled. Harvey stalled above our community, bringing devastation and destruction to many.

    We did not flood, but three weeks after the storm while I was cooking eggs, I noticed that the eggs kept sliding to the left of the pan. I wondered if the stove needed balancing.

    The stove wasn’t off balance.

    Our kitchen floor had dropped three inches. Cracks formed in our door frames and walls.

    Our home’s foundation was failing due to the saturation of the ground around and under our home.

    If that wasn’t enough, we also discovered that the plumbing under our home was busted due to the sinking of the foundation.

    At night I could hear cracking in our walls and the sound of dripping water.

    I would lay awake – wide-eyed. The moonlight, once comforting and peaceful, jeered at me through the blinds. I tried to close him out, but he always found his way in.

    If I dozed off, I would experience a sudden sensation of falling. It would startle me awake, my heart racing, my breath fast and shallow.

    I knew that our house was going to collapse.

    I guess by keeping watch, I was preparing myself to bear witness to the destruction that I knew was coming.

    I was not sleeping. I was not eating.

    If you aren’t doing those two things, you are in big trouble.

    My foundation had failed me. Literally and figuratively

    1 person is talking about this
    Community Voices

    I feel so robbed!

    My son battled colon cancer at 32. After 2 years he was cancer free.
    At 40, he hung himself over the loss of his wife who had left him for his best friend. Now, 3 months later, I found out I have lung cancer. I don't have my son to hold. Words can not describe the pain .

    2 people are talking about this
    Community Voices

    I'm new here!

    Hi, my name is 1434. I’m new to The Mighty and look forward to sharing my story.







    #RheumatoidArthritis #sjogren #chronicfatige #suicidal . It's hard to put one's journey of Chronic Illness into a story, but I will try. I started ill at age 5, I had a twin who became unviable in the womb and I carry the person around with me everyday. At age 5 I remember having huge tumors on my left thigh. They tried to freeze them because they bled a lot and finally decided to take them out. Many years later my Mom told me it was a twin and what they pulled from my thigh was a mass of cells, teeth and hair. It left two very large scares and kids always tease me. I had a lot of childhood illness but with antibiotics you could solve everything. Fast forward to 35 I began having intestinal problems, I would have bouts of diarrhea that my body didn't feel until it was to late. I kept telling my Dr's and nothing was done. I finally got a referral to a Gastroenterologist who did a colonoscopy and found several polyps that is were left alone even for a week I would have 1st stage colon cancer, she got them out and followed up till I got Gastroparesis. I went again and she tested it by whatever, and when I was waking up I heard her speaking with my Husband and she told him I did have Gastroparesis and since I could not eat and was in the hospital many times, she had the gall to tell my Husband that I was going to die. Somehow I kept him from killing her right there on the spot, Again a long story short we were in the hospital again and met a Gastroenterologist who would see if he could help me . He got me to the only Dr in town that knew anything about what was happening and he tried to help. It got to the point were the only thing left to do was take out my stomach. So I ended up with no stomach and no desire to eat. Now that I have bored you to death I will just skip over the rest with a get to the rest. I believe I have been Depressed my whole life it got worse as I grew up. At last I met my husband and he helped me get the help I needed so I didn't self medicate any more. I have been with my Psychiatrist for over 25 years and he watches me very carefully and since my last suicide attempt he has my husband disperse my medication, so everything is locked up. I have a small Tribe helping me but as with my Husband I feel like such a burden, he would do anything to help me. My worries are that he is 9 years older than me, he had a sudden heart attack in December and that really scared me because as most know you become a Ghost when you have any kind of Chronic illness. Okay I have bored you long enough and I grateful to find groups like this.

    2 people are talking about this
    Community Voices

    Narcissistic mother has cancer

    My mother is a narcissist it’s complicated and a long story but I didn’t know my mother until I was 13 and she was clean and trying to put her life back together after years of drug abuse. I don’t know what made her a narcissist and I’ve tried to be understanding and I’ve given her a thousand chances to have a decent relationship but she is toxic. I have a son of my own now he’s 9 months old and I didn’t speak to her for most of my pregnancy because of an issue she had with my husbands family and quickly after he was born she caused another issue by telling people my husband was abusive when he is not. She has reached out again and said she has been diagnosed with colon cancer and would like a chance to be in my sons life. I haven’t asked many questions and at the advice of my therapist I told my mother I would consider making amends but I needed a few days to think about it. It’s been two weeks and I still haven’t come to a decision and my husband supports my choices but there is just to much and I don’t think her being sick is going to change her behavior… if anyone has any advice or what you would do if you were in my situation I would appreciate it. #narcissist #AbuseSurvivors #BorderlinePersonalityDisorder #Anxiety #

    5 people are talking about this
    Community Voices

    Am I Allowed to Feel?

    This is long. So bear with me.

    So a majority of you know my brother in law was diagnosed with Stage IV colon cancer last September. He had four rounds of aggressive chemo, went back to MD Anderson for a scan and the cancer had reduced, so they put him on a less aggressive and intense chemo for the remaining four rounds. After those four he went back to MD Anderson for another scan and the cancer had spread. They ordered eight more rounds of intensive chemo and told him he has about one year if he didn't take well to the chemo, two if he did. He had his first round of the new chemo three weeks ago.

    Since that first round, he has had agonizing abdominal cramps, vomiting and diarrhea. He has not been able to eat or drink. He was in and out of the ERs, including MD Anderson, his last ER finally admitting him where he remained for roughly nine to ten days.

    While at Hillcrest Main in Tulsa, during his time there they constantly had fluid IV going to him because he was so dehydrated. His potassium was super low so they were pushing potassium. He was ordered a feeding tube but he couldn't take the one down the nose and the surgeon said for his type of cancer, the feeding tube surgery had a high fatality plus she did not believe it would help. So they skipped that, did a colonoscopy and a endoscopy. His throat and bowels were swollen. They took a sample during the colonoscopy to test for C-Diff bacteria. The doctor said it looked, smelled, acted, etc like C-Diff but they could not start medications for it until they had a positive lab. They stated it would take 2-3 days to get results.

    Guess what? They DESTROYED the sample. They never tested it! So he has to have ANOTHER colonoscopy done. They next day they told him it wasn't C-Diff and it was just that he was in the final stages of his cancer. How can you go from 2-3 days to get the results to "we got them it's not C-Diff".

    He left the hospital on Friday or Saturday and is home. The plan was to get him to MD Anderson (if it was the cancer, they would have seen it on the scan the week prior when he was there) but he is too weak to make the trip. He has decided to stop chemo and to bring in hospice. He is exhausted and sick of being in pain and just doesn't want to be in pain anymore.

    I am angry at the hospitals for this. I am upset it feels like he is giving up (I know he isn't, he is tired, his body is tired and he is mentally exhausted from constant battling). My heart breaks that my husband will no longer have his brother, my mother in law will no longer have two sons and my sister in law will no longer have her husband. I feel guilty and that I have no right to be we upset or cry as much as I have the last two days because, I just married into this family. I didn't realize how much I would love having a brother in law and sister in law that would I actively want to participate in their lives.

    I ask that you all pray for my entire family of in-laws and me. We are going to need it. It's going to be a rough time during and for a bit after. I love you all. ❣️

    1 person is talking about this
    Community Voices

    I'm new here!

    Hi, my name is Fjtb123. I’m new to The Mighty and look forward to sharing my story. I was diagnosed with Ulcerative Colitis around 39 years ago after having a colonoscopy. I was able to work as a teacher for 30 years with no symptoms. It was like I didn’t even have Colitis. I retired 10 years ago and am now 75.Once I turned 65 my doctor told me I needed Colonoscopies every year because colon cancer triples after 65 for people who have Colitis. My last Colonoscopy was last June. I have another one scheduled for this June. Since my last procedure I am really not doing well. I never have a regular bowel movement, always soft or even diarrhea. I am on Mesalamine suppositories as well as the Mesalamine pills. My problem is more with my bowels than with stomach pain.just yesterday, I had a salad and potato soup at Longhorn with a friend. On my way home, I felt the urge to go and had a terrible accident as soon as I got into the bathroom. Recently, this has happened to me at least 3-5 times. I only eat applesauce and scrambled eggs afterwards. I take Colace off and on due to constipation issues too. I am now staying home lots more as I am afraid I will have a sudden urge to go in a public place and not make it. No one offers me much support, and I feel like I don’t have a normal life dealing with this daily.


    4 people are talking about this
    Community Voices

    My third colonoscopy prep

    <p>My third colonoscopy prep</p>
    Community Voices

    I can't wrap my mind around this

    I have had tummy issues for most of my life with lactose intolerance and IBS after I was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia. My tummy issues worsened very slowly over last few months that my wife and I decided that I get checked out. Went to see a GI Doctor and he ordered an upper GI and colonoscopy to see what's going on with my gut. I figured he was going to say that I now have Chrons Disease, it's just IBS or worse there's nothing. You could have knocked me over with a feather when he said that I have a 3" x 4" tumor in my Colon and the biopsies confirmation that it's definitely Colon Cancer. Wait Doc what did you say????? I have Cancer ?!?!?!?! Cancer ............ never thought that would be used in the same sentence as my name. Now it's a big rush to get tests done and to get me to a Colorectal Surgeon due to the size of the tumor. I have faith in my doctors, I'm just beside myself. During one of my tests they have found that I'm passing a 6.5mm kidney stone on top of everything else and I just never fully recovered from the Upper GI and colonoscopy. My nausea and trips to the bathroom have gotten worse. I hope I can get some answers soon cause I have more questions than answers now. #cancersucks

    6 people are talking about this
    Community Voices

    How Loss and Illness Changes a Marriage

    With tears in her eyes, she looked at me and said, “I want the man I married. I want him back. Where is he?” Full of anger, I looked at her and simply said, “The man you married does not exist anymore, and I don’t think he is ever coming back.” With that, I stormed out of the house — neither of us sure if I would ever return. It had been a hell of a few years. There had been some amazing highs, but more devastating lows were about to come. My wife and sister had just given birth to my daughter and nephew. My wife’s pregnancy had been extremely hard, she had been in and out of the hospital five times, but I was a new daddy, my wife was doing better, and things seemed to be heading up. Little did we know our world was about to change drastically. Three months after her birth, my daughter had to be hospitalized with RSV (respiratory syncytial virus). The fear and anxiousness we felt at this turn of events was quickly overshadowed on the second night of our stay when we received a call telling us that my sister was downstairs in the ER with severe headaches. As tests were run, brain tumors were discovered. It was like getting sucker-punched in the gut. Fear, anger, sadness, worry, discouragement filled us, and we knew everything was now changed. As a person and family of faith, we prayed and hoped for her healing. We rallied around her and did everything we possibly could to help, working to follow all the doctor’s recommendations. But healing this side of heaven was not the plan, and six months later, she passed. She was one of my baby sisters, only 16 months younger than me. There was not a time I could remember when she was not there, and now she was gone. God was not supposed to let this happen. I was angry, sad, hurting, and questioning even my faith. How could God let this happen? Unfortunately, we weren’t done yet. Three months later, we received the news that my dad had stage 4 colon cancer. My other sister came to see me that afternoon, and I only got two words out before I was crying. On the sidewalk of my school, we stood there in tears holding each other. It was happening again; what were we going to do? By this point, our family was reeling. God, what are you doing? My anger, frustration, and hurt were all-consuming. I remember simply looking to heaven and saying, “Dear God, not again! Don’t do this to our family again!” To the outside world, I looked OK and seemed to be managing things well, holding to my faith, and making it through. Inside, though, I was done. I was ready to give up my faith, quit my job, and even throw away my family. I was so mad and frustrated at life, especially after all I had already walked through with my health. I was just done. What was the point? If this was what life was about and where my faith got me, I didn’t want it. I had always been optimistic and a person of deep faith. Walking through many trials and struggles I’d kept a good attitude, a caring heart, and deep faith. But that was over now. Tired of suffering, tired of my family hurting, and tired of the pain, I was angry and just did not care anymore. Crap was going to happen, so what did it matter? Only those living with me truly saw this because I was pretty good at wearing the mask. I knew the right things to say and do, but eventually, that acting caught up with me, and the anger and frustration I was bearing finally broke through. This was the straw that finally broke the camel’s back — the moment I finally broke. The stress our family had been under financially and physically was taking a huge toll on us and our marriage, both mentally and emotionally. Running on fumes and emotionally exhausted, an argument ensued. Honestly, I can’t even tell you today what that argument was about, but the anger and vitriol pouring out of me was astonishing, even to me. This was not the person I was — but this was what was coming out. She sat on the bed looking at me, hurt, with tears, simply wanting the man she married, but at that moment, I could have cared less. I was tired of being the happy warrior, the strong one, the one who kept getting up after I was knocked down again and again. When she said that, all I could say was, “The man you married does not exist anymore, and I don’t know if he is ever coming back.” The hopelessness and rage I felt was destroying our family. Tired of fighting and dealing with the crap of one thing after another being thrown at us, I was finally ready to give up. Hearing myself say this to the woman I loved destroyed me. How and why my wife stayed with me I will never know, but somehow, she did. Somehow, she found the love and the strength to keep loving me and caring for me in the wake of these devastating life events. That year changed me. Some realities of life sunk in, and I realized that some things you just can’t fix. I wish I could say everything went back to normal, and I once again became my old self, but I did not. I did heal, and my wife and I found a new place of love, care, and commitment. I found a renewed and, in some ways, deeper faith, but that year changed the person I was and changed my perception of life. It gave me a soberness I had not had before, and while I had a deep appreciation for the time and people I had in my life, there was hurt and wounds that continue even to this day. Some of these same feelings I dealt with again when I learned of my Parkinson’s diagnosis, and I would be lying if I said, as hopeful and optimistic as I am, there are not still days of anger and frustration, and days when I want to give up. Walking through my previous struggles has given me the perspective and strength I needed to walk this current path, hopefully, a little better, but it is still hard, and still hurts. While my wife never did get back the man she married, this new man has learned and grown, and we have found that place of peace and love — at least most days — that we need as we walk through this latest trial. I am not the man she married, but she is not the woman I married either — which is good — because I am not sure those two people would have survived this. Our relationship was forever changed that year as we found our footing to begin a fresh start in the wake of these tragedies. I realized that these events shaped me and made me and our relationship what it is today. I still battle many of the same things I battled that year, and sometimes it is hard not to be that person again. It took understanding and sacrifice to walk this path — sacrifice born of a special and deep love and commitment. Even when I was pushing her away, she held me close and helped me heal. That is the loving sacrifice that so many make who help us on our journey. If we had let it, anger and hurt would have destroyed us, and at times we let it, and that is the true choice we each have as we walk the path of grief, loss, trauma, and trials — it can be what separates us or what bonds us together, but regardless, it will change you, just as it changed me. There is forever a hole where my sister lives now. Some days it is more painful than others, but I have finally learned how to live with it day by day. After your loss, your trauma, your diagnosis, you will never be the person you were before, but only you can choose the person you will become, and only together can you and those around you choose what your life together will look like. Yes, these things will change you, but just like anything in life, what we choose to do with it is what really matters.