Colon cancer awareness month

GV Jack

Snorin God

It was brought to my attention recently that this is Colon Cancer Awareness Month. I also learned that a golfing buddy of mine was just diagnosed with it and of course we had our friend Lady Jeeper who had a scare, but fortunately is cancer free and coming back from Stomach Bacteria like gang busters. This prompted me to write about my experiences with this dreaded disease. Please bare with me.

"Is My Mommy Gonna Die?”

The boy tossed the ball back to the man in the brown suit who had interrupted his busy day to play a little catch with him. He finally worked up the courage and walked up to him and asked. “Dr. Clem, is my mommy gonna die?”
“No, Jack,your mommy’s not going to die. Not if I have anything to say about it. She is every bit as tough as she is beautiful.” he said as he got into his car. “Oh and Jack, if you want to give her the best medicine you can, run up there and give her a kiss and tell her you love her.” I did that. She winced in pain when I jumped on the bed, smiled and said “I love you too Jackson, but mommy needs to sleep now. This through the fog of the shot she had just received. I watched as she fell asleep.

The year was 1944. Dr Clem was Clem Hardin, who under the skillful tutelage of Dr. Jimmy Jones, Chief Surgeon at the Cleveland Clinic had, two weeks prior, performed one of the first colostomies at the Clinic on her. I was nine years old. Mom was thirty-eight. It was a tough time. World War II was raging. My oldest brother, Art was on a carrier in the Atlantic, My brother Pete, age 13 and I were being the brats that kids that age usually are. (I know my mom liked me best because she spanked me many more time than she did the other two.) My dad was hardly around because he was running two plants manufacturing military aircraft parts and assemblies 24/7.

As Dr. Clem said, mom pulled through. In those days they didn’t have the procedure to reattach the colon so she, as she said,“Bagged it” the rest of her life. This remarkable woman never, ever once complained about her fate. As soon as she was able, she went back to full time volunteering for the Red Cross. When the war was over she spent her free time helping and reading forthe blind.

What kind of life did we have with her? One day each week, she would bring a laundry basket full of our clean socks to my room and the three boys would have to sort and roll them. This almost always caused an argument and much carrying on. This one time it was particularly loud and she came in to quiet us down. Well, Art, fresh out of the Navy and full of it, threw a rolled up pair of socks at her. Of course, we followed up and pelted her pretty good. She ran out of the room and slammed the door. The three of us were hysterically laughing and patting ourselves on the back when the door flew open and she came in with gun blazing. Where the heck she had that squirt gun stashed I have no idea, but she got us all flush. She guffawed and ran out the door laughing all the way down the hall. A few minutes later we were at the dinner table. In those wonderful days families ate dinner at a table as a unit. If you were late, you didn’t eat. Well, my dad looked at her and asked what the ruckus was upstairs and why the boys were wet. She open those beautiful blue eyes wide open, shrugged her shoulders and shook her head as if to say, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Though she said nothing, Dad knew not to ask anything more. We three boys could hardly contain ourselves. That was how life was in our household.

Many years later, while making a sales call at Clevite in Cleveland, an old business friend and good customer, Joe and I were having a meeting in the lobby interview room when he stopped, looked at me and said, “Jack, we’ve had some great times together haven’t we? He continued, “I’ve enjoyed doing business with you and letting you beat my butt on the golf course.”

I said,“Okay, Joe, what’s going on?”

He said, “I’ve got colon cancer and I have to have an operation next week and I don’t think I’m going to make it. I’ve made arrangements for my brother to take care of my son and all the other stuff.” While he was talking, I wrote a phone number down on a piece of paper.

“Joe, here, take this phone number. This is a lady I happen to know and she has gone through what you’re going through and has counseled many people going through this. Her name is Fran and feel free to tell her I told you to call.”

Later that day as I was getting ready to leave the office I received a call from Joe. “You SOB. Why didn’t you tell me that was your mother?” I explained that that wasn’t important but her message was. He said it was a great conversation and thanked me profusely and said he was ready to face whatever was ahead. I didn’t hear from Joe for a long time and feared the worst. About six months later I was in the Clevite office and asked for Joe’s replacement to meet and go over the open order status. As I was sitting in the conference room the door opened and in walked my buddy, Joe. He looked great, tan, clear eyed and really stout. It turns out he went to Florida to recoup and decided to retire. He was cancer free and decided that life was too short and wanted to spend it with his son and family.

As he left, he asked me to say hi to my mom and thank her again. I told him I would, but that she had suffered some strokes and was having a tough time. I also said, I was going to go to Florida to see her in a week and would pass along his best wishes. I never saw Joe again, but I’m sure he’s somewhere three putting, as usual.

I did go to see mom the next week. She really couldn’t talk too well, until I asked her for her recipe for her famous pork chop gravy. She recited it as clear as a bell. I stayed for a few days. When I left I gave her a kiss and told her I loved her. She nodded in agreement. It was the last time I saw her alive. A few weeks later she left us. Oh, how I wish I had told her I loved her more times.

That’s not the end of the story. This brave, beautiful and remarkable woman lived for thirty-six years “bagging it” and never once complained. The true story is about the ravages of colon cancer.

What I didn’t say was that my mom’s mom died from colon cancer in her early sixties. My dad’s dad died from colon cancer in his early sixties and sadly, my brother, Art, my buddy, died at age 59 from colon cancer. Some of the last words he said to me were, “Go get a colonoscopy done right away or I will haunt you like the ghost of Jacob Marley.” I did and they found a number of polyps, one of which was just starting to bloom. They were removed and no other treatment was necessary.

The real story my friends, is that this is a horrid but reversible disease, if caught in time. Please, if there is any family history or if your doctor recommends a scan or a colonoscopy, do it. I did and it saved my life.

Also remember to hug, kiss and tell your loved ones that you love them while there is still time.








 

Roberto

Guest
I want to add that a good friend and my internist told me that the colonsocopy was the only preventative in his bag of procedures. Note preventative not a treatment per se. Snip the little buggers out before they turn, easy peasy. My dad bagged it for the last 15 years or so of his life starting well before the colonoscopy was done by flex. Grandfatehr on mother side died from it. I 've had the procedure 3 time with only one small pollip in the first exam. I'm due for another. It's kind of fun seeing the inside of your colon and completely painless. AS the wise old GV says,get it done, particularly if there is a family history.
 

Ladyjeeper

Sonoran Goddess
Staff member
I had one of the biggest polyps ever, a half an inch. It was ok but could have turned if I wouldn't have had it out....Please go get a colonoscopy... It will save your life....
 
My Mom died of colon cancer - perfectly healthy otherwise. If she had had a colonoscopy, we would have her now. Please get one!! It is easy and can make all the difference!!!
 

Kea

Guest
My Dad had ulcers during WWII while in the Army. To my knowledge he never had cancer (never mentioned it if he did). He did have ileitis & colitis and had his colon & most of his stomach removed. He, too, was a bagger from the late 1950s until he passed away in 2009.
 
Well, since you’re talking awareness, some risk factors are not easily altered, and some are: For example, a diet high in animal fat, red meats (beef, lamb or liver) and processed meats (hot dogs, bologna,lunch meat) will increase risk. (Diets of high-fiber veggies, fruits and whole grains lower the risk.) Lack of exercise, obesity, smoking and excess alcohol are other factors that can increase risk. So between colonoscopy visits . . .
 

GV Jack

Snorin God
Well, since you’re talking awareness, some risk factors are not easily altered, and some are: For example, a diet high in animal fat, red meats (beef, lamb or liver) and processed meats (hot dogs, bologna,lunch meat) will increase risk. (Diets of high-fiber veggies, fruits and whole grains lower the risk.) Lack of exercise, obesity, smoking and excess alcohol are other factors that can increase risk. So between colonoscopy visits . . .
Now you have ruined my whole St Patricks Day. NOT!!! Except for the smoking I plead guilty to all of the above. That's why I get a colonoscopy every other week.

Seriously, those are factors that can lead to it, but the family history is probably the most significant. If you do all the above and have family history that's not a good thing.
 

rocky

Guest
I guess people need to develop their own interest for awareness. As if there's a spill of the chemo bag, they call it hazard? Because the buddies with suits on come to clean the spill. And as far I knew, Chemo is the most toxic concoction ever to enter the human body.

 
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