I've been waiting three months to write this post. I haven't posted to the blog since June. It's now September. So, here we go!
Soon after the coronavirus shut everything down, and we were all quarantined at home, Greg started having some digestive issues and pain. As someone who has always been, shall we say, very "regular," this was odd for him, but we attributed it to stress, as he was still getting used to working from home and work was very stressful at that time. As someone who has never been very "regular," I dismissed it and just said, "Welcome to my digestive life!" Sympathetic wife award does not go to me. However, when it went on for weeks, and he started feeling more and more miserable and having more issues, I became more sympathetic and started to worry. He finally made an appointment to see the doctor. On May 28th, he saw Dr. Knopf who ruled out a few things right away, ordered a bunch of lab work, and sent him home with some meds to help with digestions and told him to start taking probiotics. He thought it was likely IBS--irritable bowel syndrome--brought on by stress.
Well, when the lab work came back, Dr. Knopf immediately referred him to a GI specialist. His iron levels were super low. Greg had a phone appointment with the GI doctor on June 3rd, and she ordered an ultrasound. He had the ultrasound on June 8, and he got the dreaded, " I need to have someone else come take a look at this," from the technician. A doctor came in and confirmed that there was an "abnormality" in his abdomen. The doctor ordered a CT scan with contrast but couldn't get him in until June 18 (10 days of waiting). In the meantime the doctor had him start taking Prilosec and also iron supplements. They also scheduled a colonoscopy and endoscopy for June 23rd.
I had googled (I know, they say not to do that, but I did) iron deficiency in men, and from what I found, there are really only two reasons for it--you're bleeding from somewhere or something internally is taking your blood, ie. a tumor. But we just had to wait. Waiting is so hard. The unknown is scary.
On June 18th, Greg went in for the CT scan, drank the yucky contrast stuff and then found out that it was inconclusive. The contrast stopped in his upper abdomen, and they couldn't see anything past that because there was a "blockage." Again, this was very disconcerting. I was trying not to go to worst case scenario in my head, but it was a mental battle. I was worried and so was Greg. And then we had to wait some more.
On Father's Day, June 21, Greg went to the hospital to get his COVID test (it was negative) and started the 2-day prep for the colonoscopy. Normally, people only have a one-day prep for this procedure, but because of his "blockage," the doctor wanted to be sure he was cleaned out as much as possible. The 2-day prep was brutal. The stuff he had to drink in that huge jug was disgusting, and that was after all of the other prep stuff. Two days of not eating and having to drink stuff he didn't want to made for a grumpy man. By the morning of the colonoscopy, he was DONE. He refused to finish the last 16oz.
His procedure started a half hour late, and while we were waiting in the hospital room beforehand, we could hear a man screaming in pain down the hall. It was constant and went on and on. When they took Greg back, I went for a short walk outside. They wheeled him back in a little later than expected. He was still sleeping. I overhead the nurse say they had given him a hefty dose of meds. It took him a half hour to wake up. He was still groggy when the doctor came in with her report. She told me they had found some polyps, which she removed, and they also found a tumor, likely malignant. She asked if Greg had any siblings. Greg said, "Yes, an identical twin brother and a younger brother." The doctor said that it was imperative they get colonoscopies as soon as possible. And then Greg started laughing hysterically over the fact that his brothers were going to have to do the prep and go through all this, too. Greg was loopy, silly, and cracking up, and I was sitting there with tears streaming down my face, trying to process what the doctor had just said. The poor nurse didn't know what to do with us, but she was very kind. She looked me in the eyes sympathetically and said, "You're going to be ok."
Greg got discharged, and I drove towards home, crying the entire drive. Greg was starving after having not eaten for 60+ hours, so we got him takeout from Joy Teriyaki, which he thoroughly enjoyed. He went straight up to bed and slept for several hours while I sat downstairs texting family and friends and sobbing for hours. I didn't know how I was going to pull it together enough to talk to the kids about what we'd found out. They'd been with Grandpa and Grandma Moffat all day and had been swimming. They came home around 4pm (Greg was still sleeping), and by the grace of God and people praying for me, I was able to stop crying long enough to explain to them what the doctor had told us. We didn't know for sure yet if it was cancerous, but it might be. I had tears in my eyes, but I was able to get through it. Kari was the only one who showed any emotion. She nodded as I talked and tears fell down her cheeks. The boys just listened, and Aubrey, as soon as I finished talking and asked if they had any questions, said, "Ok, can I go play outside with the Heaths now?" She obviously was not done processing.
One thing we discovered going through this with the kids was just how differently they all handled the difficult news. Kari, as the oldest, understood more fully what it all meant and had the hardest time, but it was encouraging to see her expressing her emotions, as that's not something she often shares with us. Joel was pretty matter-of-fact and took things pretty calmly. Grant was worried but also didn't seem to be too upset. And Aubrey just didn't want to hear or talk about it. We shared information with them as soon as we learned it, and for that whole month before the colonoscopy, there just wasn't much to share, so we kept it to a minimum. They knew Dad was feeling bad, that it hurt when he ate food, and that his system wasn't working right. We didn't want to scare the kids with speculation, but we wanted to be truthful, so we shared the facts as we received them.
Two days later we got the call from the doctor that the tumor was malignant, that Greg had cancer. Listening in on that phone call was surreal. I had been making dinner when the call came, and as soon as he got off the phone, we sat together, stunned, and I went upstairs while Greg finished prepping dinner. I needed space to cry, to sob, and I cried out to God in our bedroom. I got myself under control and came downstairs to join the family for dinner. Greg shared the news from the doctor this time. We all hugged and prayed together before sitting down for dinner.
I went with Greg to the appointment with the surgeon on July 26th. He confirmed that Greg needed a colon resection surgery where they'd remove the tumor and a large section of the colon along with it. He scheduled surgery for July 6th, which felt like a very long time to wait, but was the soonest he could get it. We just wanted that cancer out!
This was the Facebook post I wrote on July 26th:
We received some difficult news this last week. Greg has colon cancer. It doesn’t seem real to even type those words, but it is. He’s been having stomach issues and pain for the last couple months and attributed it to stress. After multiple doctor visits, blood work, scans and tests, he finally got an answer yesterday, but it was not what we had hoped. They found a tumor in his upper colon, and it is cancerous. Surgery is scheduled for July 6th. We won’t know much more about next steps until after they see what they’re dealing with. As you can imagine, we are experiencing a roller coaster of emotions. I know many of you have walked a similar road and know how it feels.
So, for now, I am clinging to what I know to be true. God is good, and He loves us. Our family, along with our church, has been working on memorizing Psalm 46 in the last couple months, and it has taken on new meaning for us this week. We are reminding ourselves often that God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.
The kids are doing ok, processing in their own ways. We would appreciate prayer for peace as we wait, a successful and simple surgery, and that we would trust God in the midst of uncertainty. It’s just a lot. We have amazing family and friends, though, and we are so grateful we don’t have to go through this alone. ❤️
***The hospital called today (6/29), and due to lack of operating room availability, his surgery has been bumped back to Friday, July 10th. Those extra four days feel like an eternity, but must be someone has a greater, more urgent need than ours.
***The doctor’s office just called (6/30). The doctor “worked his magic” and switched surgery back to Monday, July 6th. Thank you, Lord, for taking care of this!! This is a crazy ride already, and we’re just beginning.
We felt so cared for by our family and friends as we were going through all the emotions of finding out about the cancer, and God used so many to comfort and support us in so many ways. I had plans to visit with my friend, Jane, the evening of the day Greg had his colonoscopy. She was in town from CA visiting family. We decided to play things by ear and see how Greg was doing and if we could still get together. I was a teary mess, but Jane came over anyway, and it was just what I needed. No one makes me laugh like Jane. She's one of my oldest and dearest friends, and it was balm for my soul to just laugh, talk, and cry with her. That same evening, Joby, a friend who used to work with Greg and whose son went through cancer several years ago, stopped by to chat with Greg and check on him. It was so good.
We came home from a doctor's appointment one day to find flowers and a journal filled with scripture and prayers for us. Another blessing from a new friend.
The night after we got the cancer phone call, I answered a knock at the door and found five of my friends on the porch with flowers and a big basket of goodies, along with a 2020 balloon that said "Do not recommend. 1 star out of 5." I immediately burst into tears, hugged each of them, and invited them to come in. We sat in my ladies sitting room for two hours and laughed, cried, and talked. It was exactly what my heart needed. They are wonderful friends. The basket had gift cards to restaurants, magazines, books, cards, chocolate, other treats, and all kinds of things to bring comfort and show support and love.
