Regrets

It began as just a few pangs and flashes here and there throughout the day. But it's slowly growing into an all-consuming fear that I just should not have done this. At least not yet. This is the stunning and sometimes delusional feeling of regret.

My feelings about Total Gastrectomy(TG) have run the gamut since I was first made aware of the treatment about five or so years ago. My sister had been looking into options for people with the CDH1 gene mutation and had stated not only her intention to have the genetic test but to have her stomach cut out of her body even if screening indicated it was perfectly healthy. I thought she was 100% certifiably insane. Surely there must be other options?! Even at the time when my sister was planning and going through her surgery, my feelings for myself were that I would never get my stomach removed. Ever.

Depending on the screenings and pathology that occur prior to surgery, TG can be considered prophylactic, in another word preventative, if there is no evidence of cancerous cells -or- if carcinoma is found in the stomach and then it is removed and there are no signs of growth to the lymph nodes or other organs, it is considered curative. However in many cases, patients who are seemingly getting a prophylactic TG, find out after the fact that their surgery was indeed curative as the pathology report of the stomach often reveals tiny pockets of cancer cells.

There's no telling how long those cells would take to multiply and spread around; it could take years, it could take decades. This is why doctors are unable to advise patients on the timing of a TG. The answer always seems to "as soon as possible."

Obviously in my case, the stomach was not perfectly healthy. A biopsy of the gastric antrum showed signet ring carcinoma. According to the surgeon the post operative pathology report showed this was the only area with cancer cells. So maybe I could have waited.

Maybe I could have planned better, mentally, physically, financially. Maybe those signet ring cells would have just sat there doing nothing for 30 years and I could have gone on to live as I always have, with a stomach. Maybe I could have had time to climb a mountain, or win Survivor, or chug a few more Irish Car Bombs.

Barely a year ago, before I had the test, I remember thinking that even if I had the gene, I was going to be the one to get rid of it without surgery. How did I forget that? How did I forget that I couldn't fathom having my stomach removed? How did I lose sight of the fact that I was going to be the one to beat the odds? I was going to be a miracle. The researchers would be flying me all over the world to study me and figure out what I did to keep the cancer at bay.

I was going to pray, meditate, visit the most powerful shaman, astrally journey to the masters of healing on the fifth dimension, channel the energy of the universe, or simply will my body to reject this cancer, do what ever any number of crackpots suggest it would take, but I absolutely positively would not succumb to having my stomach taken out. What happened to that positive thinking? How did I forget that I was going to use any and all methods to cure myself other than surgical removal of the stomach?

I obviously acted impulsively. I jumped the gun and didn't think things through. If I had, I might be playing with the kids in the pool right now, or we'd be hiking at the park, or I'd be gainfully employed. I certainly wouldn't be sitting here, waiting for incisions to heal and the pain of digestion to subside so I can make an attempt to rest.

I just can't stop thinking that maybe I did this too soon.