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TRUE LIFE STORY

LIFE & HEALTH EXPERIENCES

By Noble MondayPublished 10 months ago 8 min read
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When I woke up I was moved into a waiting room where the doctor met me and my husband. He said that they found a lump in my esophagus, but that he wasn't worried. He needed to run a few tests and do another scope. He was in and out of the room in under three minutes. I looked at my husband and we both got up and walked to the car. I wasn't sure what to think. The first thing I thought when I heard “lump” was of course the "C" word, CANCER. No one wants to say it out loud; like if you say it you will be cursed with it. So, we went home and sat on the couch. I sat quietly for a few minutes, and then logically decided that I needed to cut the lawn.

I jumped on my trusty riding mower and put in my ear-buds. I cut “grass” for about three hours. I just drove around basically cutting dirt. Was I being punished for having all of those awful thoughts about my life? Was I being punished for being depressed? Was I being punished for thinking that I needed more in my life?

I began to think about what would happen if I did in fact have the "C" word. Who would my husband marry? He would need to find someone very quickly. He was thirty four years old, bald, and had three kids. He had been out of the dating scene for eleven years at that point. This was not going to be easy. In my opinion he was a top-of-the-line catch, but selling some woman three kids and my husband’s affection for catastrophic gas inducing taco Tuesday might be tough.

We would need to start looking right away. When I got off the mower I asked him to sit down so we could talk. I opened my laptop and went to an online dating site.

Me: We need to find you a wife. Honey, you are bald and have three kids. We need to start looking.

Business Manager: You need to calm down and shut up. No one is going to die.

I explained that I needed to make sure he and the kids would be taken care of when I started to walk towards the light. He did not find any of this humorous, which was not my intent, but I had to laugh. Tense emotional situations make me extremely uncomfortable, so I make jokes. This, in fact, was not a joke though, I really wanted to find him a wife.

The following week I went in for the second procedure. Once again I had the most relaxing twenty minute nap. I woke up in recovery to my husband holing my hand. I asked where the doctor was and he said he had left. I asked what the doctor found and my husband said "It's a tumor, but the doctor said not to worry." So I sat up and asked when the doctor was coming back so I could ask him all of the nine million questions I had. My husband said the doctor wasn't coming back but that he would call us later. “He left? I said. “I wasn’t even awake yet. Where did he go? Why would he leave me here like this? What a prick!” I got up and I got dressed. What kind of doctor lets the husband tell the wife that she has a tumor? What an Ass-Hat!

So once again we went home and I got on my riding mower. The grass didn't need to be cut, but I got on anyway and rode around for about two hours. My husband stopped me mid-mow and said the doctor was on the phone. I jumped off and got on the phone. We had a quick conversation about the tumor.

Ass-Hat: I don’t believe this is cancer, but I don’t really deal with this type of “case.”

Me: What do you think I should do?

Ass-Hat: You can wait six months, and then do another scope and we can re-evaluate, or you can see an oncologist.

I thought to myself, “Why on earth would I want to keep a tumor in my esophagus that was blocking the opening to my stomach? I am thirty four years old. I have three kids, a balding husband, and way too much shit to do. I need to know if I have cancer so I can find my husband a wife.”

Once again I sat that night with my husband and we talked about the tumor and what kind of wife he would like if I were to kick the bucket.

Me: I know you are drawn to blondes, but is that a sticking point?

Business Manager: *Laughing.* I am firm on her being a blonde. A natural blonde.

We then sat there and I cried for about an hour. It was the hardest discussion we had ever had. So I, of course, deflected and continued to discuss his new wife. She would have big boobs, blonde hair, a sweet ass, and, if possible, a background in gymnastics. She would need to be tidy and a good cook, as well as patient with the kids. I soon realized that my replacement was nothing like me, but that was probably for the best. Perhaps the new wife would be able to post fantastic Pinterest wins and make homemade soap from virgin goat tears. That would be nice.

Two weeks later I found myself in an oncologist’s office. He had reviewed my file and started talking about the next steps. I assumed that I would have some type of laparoscopic surgery to remove the tumor and go about my business.

It was not that simple. The doctor informed me that he would need to cut me from belly button to sternum. He needed to remove my esophagus so he could take the tumor out because it was wrapped around the base of my esophagus, basically crushing it. He explained all of the things that could go wrong with the surgery. He explained that I could end up needing a feeding tube, colostomy bag, additional surgeries, and potentially radiation and chemo. While he was talking to me, I don’t think I actually heard anything he was saying. I remember his lips moving but I don’t remember hearing any sounds coming out. The Business Manager placed his hand on my knee and I snapped back into reality. I looked at the BM and started screaming with my eyes, “Oh my God!”

My husband and I tried to figure out the best time to do the surgery since it was the beginning of the school year, and we would need to coordinate care for the kids. My husband asked if we could do the surgery in a few months so we had time to prepare. The doctor said, "You need to do this now. I don’t know if you have cancer. The only way I can determine that is by taking out the tumor. You have a four week window to set up the surgery." Seriously, four weeks was not enough time to get my life sorted. My head was reeling. I was not ready to be a slice and dice piece of fillet-o-fish.

We set the surgery date and spent the next month gearing up for the surgery and five-day hospital stay. My family was amazing. I spent most of that time telling my husband that if it was cancer we would be fine and I would find him a suitable replacement wife. He was a good sport. He must have known that thinking about finding him a wife made me feel better. I know it sounds strange, but I thought that if I had to go, I wanted him and the kids to have someone. I needed to know that they would be taken care of. I needed to know that someone was going to read the kids bedtime stories and tuck them into bed each night. I needed to know that my husband wouldn’t be lonely.

The new wife would need to be on board with hallway groping's and inappropriate sexting. Yes, sexting with eggplant emojis.

The morning of the surgery we walked into the hospital and I was whisked upstairs to the surgical floor. I kindly asked the nurse to administer something for my nerves. I was quietly thinking that if I pulled out the IV and ran, I could head for Mexico and act like this had never happened. Within a minute of whatever the nurse gave me, I was calm and apparently quite talkative. I told the anesthesiologist that I beat my kids with a flip-flop and he was next if he screwed up. I kissed my husband goodbye and to be honest I don't remember going under anesthesia.

When I opened my eyes, I saw my husband standing over me holding my hand. I tried to say something, but I had a tube in my throat. I looked at him with the burning question in my eyes. He said, "You're okay, it's not cancer." I was elated. It was the best news a mother of three could ever receive. I passed back out. I woke up in the worst pain I had ever experienced. My entire body hurt. I had tubes coming out of everything. I wasn’t able to tolerate the pain medications; they were causing nausea, and after the surgery I had I was going to be in big trouble if I vomited. My esophagus was basically ground beef and I could ruin all of the surgeon’s work if I upchucked. The next five days were tough. I was only able to take liquid Tylenol. I had been sawed in half and was given liquid Tylenol.

This is an excerpt from my book Scoop The Poop. You can grab a copy today, and read all about how that tumor changed the course of my life.

Story: Meredith Masony

traumatreatmentstherapyrecoverypersonality disorderhumanityfamilydisorderdepressionanxiety
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Noble Monday

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