3 years ago this very day, my wife (Aimee) dropped me off in the rainy parking lot of the nearby endoscopy center. My PCP had recommended a coloscopy to better understand the cause of my digestive complications.
Visitors were restricted due to COVID at this facility. That meant that this was both a solo and first time adventure. Prep was mostly unpleasant just as everyone had so wonderfully detailed, but the procedure itself was a breeze. I changed into the gown, vitals checked, IV administered and verbally discussed all the precautions with the doctor before being put under.
I have actually learned to really enjoy anesthesia. It’s like getting the best mid-day nap you could ever ask for. But this was my first time, so it was a bit strange to wake up and not remember where I’ve been for the last 30-40 minutes. The world is absolutely fuzzy and it’s nearly impossible to distinguish the difference between what’s real and what’s a dream.
I can remember trying to muster up every ounce of focus that I had available to get the drinking straw in my mouth. Sometimes the drinking straw would hit my cheek and other times I was fully able to human. I couldn’t tell you where the apple juice came from, but it just magically showed up in my hands.
In the middle of enjoying my post procedure juice, some random guy in a lab coat showed up in my recovery room. He informed me that they found a large tumor that had all the visual markers for cancer. I heard something about staging and there potentially being other tumors, but once again it was so hard to focus on what was really happening. Then just as quickly as he came, he was gone.
I remember crying by myself for quite some time. Then I remember not being sure if what I heard really happened. Maybe it was just a bad dream? Some more apple juice would be really nice right now. I looked down in my hands and discovered a piece of paper that I didn’t recognize. It was a referral for chest x-rays that very same afternoon with a hand written note that my brothers should also get colonoscopies as soon as possible.
I really wanted to tell Aimee who was patiently waiting for me in the parking lot, but it didn’t feel right to text her this bad news. So I picked up my phone and messaged my dad. Wow, it sure felt good to just get it out there to someone else.
I remember reading an article that encouraged others to celebrate their personal anniversary of being cancer-free, a “Cancerversary” of sorts. The message resonated for obvious reasons, but also challenged the part of me that resists the general concept of getting attention. I’ve spent some time trying to imagine what this would look like for me, but struggled to pick one specific moment.
But today… this very day… in some kind of weird twisted way best captures the essence of whatever this celebration is supposed to be. It was the exact moment that defined my brokenness and ultimate need for rescue. My perspective was never more clear than this very moment. The things that I thought were important seemed to fade away into the background. I knew more than anything else that I needed Christ to be in the forefront of my life.
I’m almost finished the mini Trampa for my daughter’s birthday thanks again!
