In mid June, I had another full colonoscopy. I may or may not have lied and said I wasn’t having issues with constipation just so I would not have the GaviLyte solution like I did in 2024. I remember that lemon-lime solution being thick and grossly salty so that the last 32 ounces, I felt like I was choking down the solution. For all my mom friends who drank that glucose solution while pregnant, it is a similar thick consistency. For 64 ounces. I struggled not to vomit the slug-like solution. Ahh, good times. As I prepared for the second full colonoscopy, the MiraLAX solution was easy peasy. I could drink that stuff no problem. And you may be wondering if I was nervous about another colonoscopy? Was I afraid of what they may find? Honestly, I wasn’t. I think because I had the surgery which removed most of my rectum, I was not overly concerned. Perhaps I should have been since my colon is still intact and is around five feet long squished inside me (and you). The colonoscopy went well. I had the same doctor who told me of my cancer. She was warm and reassuring and afterwards told me all went well. She removed one polyp and all is fine.

A week after my colonoscopy, I received a letter in the mail about the results. Apparently my polyp, which was removed, could have turned cancerous if not addressed. “Adenomatous polyps (which I had) are the main type of colon polyp which can develop into colon cancer if not removed.” So repeat the colonoscopy in three years. I’m sorry, what? Did you even look at my chart before you sent this anxiety-inducing response? What happens if another polyp develops and then is left for years because I am told I don’t need a yearly colonoscopy or even one in two years? The switch for anxiety was just flipped on and my world began to spin like it did when I was initially diagnosed in 2024. I have so many questions and concerns and frustrations. So now what are my options? I can ask for yearly colonoscopies. We’ll see if they get approved by insurance. But typical post-cancer path is colonoscopy in 3 years and if all is “okay” then a colonoscopy in 5 years. If my request for yearly colonoscopies gets rejected, another option would be to pay for them out of pocket. Which would be around $3,000 on top of my max out of pocket deductible plus paying to figure out my GI issues and vitamins and then my hormones. Oh my gosh. My hormones. What I thought to be an iron imbalance at my last blood draw, in April, with feeling off and more tired, turns out my hormones are a wreck (I only learned this after a second blood draw paid out of pocket because I felt something was off.) My progesterone is double my estrogen which means I have been dealing with a huge hormonal imbalance causing severe PMS as well as other issues such as sluggish digestion, fluid retention and bloating (i.e. weight gain) and all around being an asshole in menopause. Just ask Chris and the kids. I have been snappy and irritable and overall frustrated and it is because my hormones are a mess. But no one is asking about my hormones even though radiation destroyed my ovaries and put me in radiation-induced menopause. That shit flew under the radar. I was sleeping poorly so my gynecologist NP recommended I increase my progesterone. So I did. But now I am raging and frustrated and my head hurts and I can barely remember the name of a new client at the gym when I used to be amazing at names when I was a teacher. And I get this message from my doctor friend about how off my hormones are and I just sit in my car and cry. Big suffocating tears fall down my face. It clicks. But not because my oncologist NP followed-up and recommended a different course of action but rather my own concerns and reaching out to my trusted D.O. friend I feel my life is one big game of whack-a-mole of figuring out what is going on. My GI, my neuropathy, my hormones and it is exhausting. And I realize my fight isn’t about toxic positivity or moving forward, but rather not becoming bitter. I am angry, about so many different things: Angry at my diagnosis. Angry about how unfair it is. Angry about the medical system. Angry about the insurance industry. Angry about feeling like I’m running on the hamster wheel to keep up with the finances of what I cost. Just fucking angry. Sometimes I feel my anger is a tornado, swirling and swirling but there will be a slow motion pause where I can remove myself from the cycle and give a birds-eye perspective to realize (thanks to therapy) that my anger is a masking emotion for some other emotion, and in my case, it is fear. Fear of not keeping up, fear of dying too soon when my kids are young, fear of leaving Chris, fear of losing because when cancer gets involved, far too often it really is life and death. And I’m not trying to be overly dramatic but I think of others who have had stage III colorectal cancer and did not survive. It’s not dramatic. It’s a reality. So what would happen if the polyp I just had removed was left for three years and grew into colon cancer? Then what? My fear is forcing me to choose a different response than the medical system is recommending. I didn’t go to medical school but I did survive cancer and that is knowledge and experience no textbook can teach. I don’t want to live in fear but I also am not going to ignore the emotion of what I am struggling with. How am I going to choose to show up for myself and my family knowing what I know? I guess yearly colonoscopies are going to be my thing. Oh to be so lucky. Send me good energy as I navigate this choice.