The Choice

The surgegeon got us in right away. He had looked at my file and the reports from my most recent colonoscopy.

It was a long talk.

He explained the procedure. He explained why people have it done. He explained the risks.

And then he looked me in the eye and said I had a choice to make: they could remove the large intestine now or later. Either way, me and my colon were not making it to the end of the road together.

My family has a history of cancer. My grandfather died of leukemia. My great uncle survived colon cancer. My mother was diagnosed with colon cancer at the age of 40. We all know the statistics. People with Ulcerative Colitis are more likely to develop colon cancer.

Maybe I was scared.

Sure I was screened all the time for colon cancer. But they could miss it. I was inflamed more of the time than not. It's easy to miss. For God's sake - they almost missed it in my mother's screening.

Maybe I was desparate.

How long could I continue living this way? The discomfort, the embarrassment, the chaos...

Maybe I was losing my mind and looking for a way out.

My husband and I weighed our options. Bug, our daughter who was five months old at the time, was not mobile yet and she was able to remember things for about two minutes. This wouldn't impact her. She wouldn't miss her MaMa. Instead she would have a healthy MaMa when she was older. One that could sit through her sporting events, go shopping with her, enjoy life with her.

I had just enough sick time saved from my job. We could make it work financially even if that meant some sacrifices.

I was young and strong enough to fight.

The Choice was glaringly obvious.