Just got off the phone with GI. I scheduled my next colonoscopy. May 22nd. I would have thought a lot of the anxiety would have gone away. I was wrong. LOL Still, I’m looking forward to going in and getting it done, and getting the “all clear.”
Somehow I thought this cancer chapter of my life would have ended. It feels that it never does, that there are just longer and longer time periods between emotional visits. Living life moths at a time, pretending I never had cancer, is interrupted by days like today.
I live with the memory and specter of colon cancer. I know that an “all clear” on my next colonoscopy will mean I am past that magical five year mark and can decrease the frequency of the exams. (That’s fancy talk for “not have something crammed up my butt as often.”)
Then what’s the problem? Why am I having anxiety about the procedure?
Simple. The negative voice inside my head was running unchecked.
“What if they find cancer again?”
“What if you have to relive all of those painful experiences all over again?”
“What if you’re NOT normal?”
“What if you’re dying?”
What if? By entertaining all of the negative thoughts in our mind we create our own limitation. Just like I teach people when I speak at engagements, if you believe all the negative stuff is possible, then you MUST believe that the positive stuff is possible, and often times, just that revelation can have a huge positive effect on our thinking. Personally, I believe self-doubt (whether you believe it’s the Enemy trying to mislead you or not) hits us hardest when we’re closest to a breakthrough.
Here’s the bottom line. The reality is that the “likelihood” that I have developed a recurrence of cancer between the fourth and fifth year since my surgery is miniscule. Even if they do find something, it’s likely to be a small polyp, which they would remove long before it grew into anything nasty, like colorectal cancer. And despite the unpleasantness of Colyte (or whatever variation I’m getting this time), I can access my port prior to going in for the procedure which will assure that I won’t have any “Oops, we missed the vein when we put in the IV” scenarios like times past.
Like any situation with uncomfortable prospects, this is something that I must do for my greater good. So I will go and I will be fine. Am I scared? No. Anxious? A little. But here’s what I believe. I’m in God’s hands and, quite frankly, I don’t think He’s done with me yet. I have many, many people still to reach with my message.
Thank you for being one of them and reading this.