Fighting for my life

CANCER is a frightening and disturbing word, and when it is delivered to the unsuspecting, it has all the force of a death sentence. It is to galvanise, and hopefully, to save others, men in particular — who generally abhor intrusive, medical examination — that I have accepted the Editor’s invitation to write my own experiences with cancer. For three years I had resisted medical examination. My machismo and buoyant health avoided and spurned the idea. “Who is this doctor to tell me what to do?” So I continued my lifestyle of lots of coffee, the stronger and more varied the better, irregular eating and very heavy meals at times. Alcohol did not enter the question as I had stopped completely, 30 years before, but the coffee and eating problems that I had inherited after years as a reporter and in the often knife-edge career of public relations and advertising, continued unabated. Unknown to me, all the while, the fingers of death had started clawing away at my stomach.

In 2001, the recurring bouts with stomach acidity increased. Cutting out coffee for a month or two would bring relief, but no sooner did relief occur, than back I went to my favourite beverage, coffee. Travelling friends, knowing my penchant, at times supplied me with the best and strongest brands from different parts of the world. In 2001, the symptoms worsened significantly and my family doctor recommended a potent antacid but he warned that the signs could be reflecting far more serious matters and that I should come in for a check-up. No man wants to hear that, so I followed my basic instincts and refused to go for a detailed internal examination. It was back to the coffee and poor eating habits. A precipitous decline came suddenly, “outta de blue,” so to speak, when in November 2004, my bowel movements produced a black discharge! Of course I knew it was blood, but people, men in particular, who make up their minds that they are not prepared to see or accept the truth, can rationalise anything.

I decided that the dark complexion came from the ferrous aspect of the new antacid I was taking. I successfully fooled myself into believing that all was well and that things would get better despite the fact that my horribly worsening stomach was producing the most foul-smelling belches, ever. By the end of November and the first week of December, I began vomiting black. It was eminently clear that something disastrously wrong was taking place. Against my “better judgment,” I finally acceded to the ongoing requests from my wife, that I should have myself examined by the family physician. He was shocked at the state I was in! There are none so blind as those who refuse to see or those who are in the middle of a problem and refuse to acknowledge it. And while I was steadily maintaining that nothing could be wrong, I had begun in fact withering away, turning ghastly pale. This became immediately evident to the doctor, who checked my white inner eyelids and white lips and copybook-paper white hands. That afternoon was around 2.30 pm at the end of the first of December.

My deep disturbance got worse when the doctor insisted that I immediately do a blood test which less than an hour showed that my red blood corpuscle count had dropped to more than half, my blood pressure was extremely low and there was every indication that I could die within weeks. The physician immediately recommended that I see a specialist that very afternoon and by 5.30 pm of the same day, the specialist ordered me to hospital right away in preparation for an internal examination of the stomach or endoscopy which gives the doctor a chance to see what is going on in the organ. The procedure was scheduled for the following morning when I was prepared and made unconscious for the examination. I woke up in the middle of the next day to be told that the endoscopy was unsuccessful as nothing could be seen in the stomach which was now a black mass of blood and rotting food with only spurts of blood coming out of the exit or pyloric end into the small intestine, or duodenum. The procedure was repeated two days later. In the interim I stayed in the hospital, subjected to nasal drains to get rid of the foul contents of the stomach, and transfusions of two pints of blood as my own supply had gone down terribly.

The endoscopy was performed on the morning of the fourth day. This time I awoke to be told that “you have cancer.” It is the most jarring and traumatic sentence to hear. For ten minutes, my world stopped. And for the next two and a half weeks, I lived in another land hardly able to eat, slowly fading away, and being subjected to numerous tests and scans in preparation for an operation on the morning of December 28. The surgical procedure scheduled for two to three hours, lasted over eight hours and at the end my entire stomach was removed. It had distended enormously with a lot of tumours. Thank God, the liver was spared, and the expected damage to the spleen did not materialise. What appeared to be curious growths on top of the kidneys as detected in the scan, turned out to be non malignant items that the surgeon carefully removed. The incision stretched from just above the appendix area on the lower right side of the abdomen diagonally upwards above the navel and going completely around almost to the middle of the back. A huge cut.

As I came out of unconsciousness, I thanked God for letting me have the gift of recall especially as loss of memory, and death were distinct possibilities, the anaethesist told me. This was compounded by my having a very bad cold at the time, a situation that would normally overrule surgery, but in this case, nothing could be postponed because of my own time-line factor. Then came the pain! For 11 days, I lay at its mercy, with tubes from my side, a catheter in place, a drainage tube stitched into one nostril and accessing the duodenum which had been sewn up to the oesophagus, and an oxygen tube down the other nostril. Several needles fed nutriments and saline solution into a small platform mounted on one arm. Did I miss anything? There were also blood pressure and heart beat reading devices with their flashlight lights and electronic sounds.

Nurses checked on me every hour, but it was at nights when the pain and loneliness set in at their worse. More than once I felt I would choke, as fluid at the base of one lung could not be easily coughed out — even small coughs were excruciatingly painful. Trying to sit up or walk, were even worse. Suffice it to say that I would not wish these events on anyone. But God is good, and the 11 days passed quickly. On the 12th, I was back in my office, weak and shook-up, but determined to get on with my life, whatever was left of it. I am now 90 lbs lighter than before. To my fellow-men, I say — don’t procrastinate. Act immediately when curious symptoms occur; especially if they recur. Remember stomach cancer is in high incidence in TT. Colon and other cancers are increasing. Do your loved  ones a favour, and avoid the pain, the pain and the disruptions to living. And, ask Jesus for strength and healing.