[2021-11-15] More surgery
I've been keeping something from you.
In April, at a physical with my family doctor, I inquired about an issue that had persisted for a few years. It seemed harmless enough—an itchy patch of skin near my anus. (As an aside, I never thought that I would use that word in a Jenesis blog post, but public service must come before my embarrassment.) My doctor offered to refer me to a dermatologist, which I readily agreed to, wanting to get to the bottom of the matter (pun intended).
In September, I met a dermatologist who examined the spot and did a biopsy. He mentioned the possibility of cancer. "Good grief," I thought. "Really? As if I need more cancer in my life."
A few days later, he called to tell me that I had "in situ squamous cell carcinoma" and that he would refer me to a colorectal surgeon to have the affected skin removed.
Squamous cell carcinoma is a form of skin cancer. In situ means that the cancer is still in the epidermis (the upper layer of skin) and has not migrated to deeper layers. When I met the colorectal surgeon in October, I asked whether my issue was considered cancer. He described it as "precancerous" and indicated that it was likely caused by the human papillomavirus (HPV). "Feckin' viruses," I thought. "They're everywhere."
I decided not to reveal this issue at each stage in the exploration process because I didn't want to worry family, friends and blog readers unduly until I had more information. To use a metaphor, it's the difference between releasing one episode of a series each week over the course of a season and dropping the entire season at once on a streaming service.
Today, I went to The Ottawa Hospital General Campus for day surgery. I'm really getting to know the hospital campus, as it's where I came for my surgery and subsequent chemotherapy to deal with ovarian cancer, where I had appointments with a breast surgical oncologist and plastic surgeon regarding my upcoming bilateral mastectomy because of my faulty BRCA2 gene, and where I come every month to get my blood checked as part of ongoing follow-ups for ovarian cancer.
When I arrived, the screener in the lobby of the hospital asked me whether I had been vaccinated against COVID. "Yes," I affirmed. "In fact, I've had three shots," I added.
"Catastrophe!" he declared enthusiastically.
"Did you say 'catastrophe'?" I asked.
"No," he blurted out. I said, "Fantastic!" He admitted that mumbling behind a surgical mask is not ideal. I should have acknowledged that my ears are getting old, but I just laughed.
You would think that I would have been down today, dreading surgery, but I was looking forward to it. When a medical professional uses the word "carcinoma" (regardless of whether it's considered cancerous or precancerous), I want those troublesome cells out of my body as soon as possible. So I might have been a little giddy when I arrived.
I was well taken care of, as I expected. Surgery seems to have gone well. The pain has been tolerable, and I have lots of pain management medications to take. Only nausea and fatigue persist, but they too shall pass.
The tissue containing the cancerous cells removed today will be sent to pathology to determine whether additional treatment is required. Fingers crossed that this issue is behind me (yes, pun intended).
