WTF: The Purgatory

We spent the next several days crying and holding each other and forcing ourselves to think about something else, but mostly waiting for the weekend to be over so we could get closer to a real diagnosis. I refused to believe the "95% cancer" bullshit because, hello? I'm pretty much 180° from a person at risk for this kinda stuff.

My folks left Saturday to visit family a few states over with the plan of returning Monday for my CT scan, the results of which would form part of the staging puzzle.

At some point that weekend, I received a call from the hospital asking if I was "feeling ok" after the colonoscopy. Feeling fragile (and pissed and confused and frustrated...), I asked the caller to clarify exactly what she meant by that. Basically, she wanted to make sure I wasn't experiencing any bleeding, cramping, etc. I told her that that was all fine, but I was a little freaked out at the initial findings and asked if she was able to look into my file to see the results of my blood test.

After much poking around as well as hemming and hawing ("I can't interpret them for you, blahblahblah"), I got her to cough up the fact that none of them were "out of range." Now, word on the street was it that a low CEA level was a very, very good sign. In tears and with a sigh of relief, I thanked her, hung up, and proceeded to celebrate with The Saint. Dodged that bullet, I thought. Turns out, the first shot was actually a blank.