Ok, what the hell? I'm not on any anti-nausea medication right now and I don't feel like throwing up. Personally I think my body found out that a large hose is about to be inserted up my bum on Monday, and is trying desperately to talk me out of it. Guess what body, we're going through it whether you like it or not.
So right now I'm sitting here eating my lunch which consists of white cranberry cocktail, and vegetable broth. I can't have any solid food until Monday night, and I can't drink anything red or orange since that will hinder the detection of any bleeding in my G.I. tract. Tomorrow morning I get to start drinking my 4 litre jug of GoLYTELY (see main page for picture). I have to drink it at a rate of 8 ounces for every 10 minutes. For those of you wondering that's 133 consecutive shot glasses of laxatives consumed at about one shot per minute. And yes that means that there will be 4 litres of wonder fun coming out of me at about the same pace. Logistically, I doubt I'll be going to the Price family Mother's Day barbecue since I want to be as close to a toilet as possible.
So how far up (and down) will these hoses be going? Well, I've got some pain on my right side which means the scope has got to go all the way around and down to my appendix. The hose going down my throat will be traveling through my stomach and partway into my small intestine. The G.I. doctor flat out dismissed my request to have the cameras meet in the middle. I think she thought I was nuts for the request, but I sure made the reception staff laugh a lot. They said I had a great attitude and they wished more people were like me.
Here's the part that I have trouble with. While talking with the reception staff at the G.I. lab we got on the subject of cancer diagnosis. I guess while scoping people they sometimes find colon cancer. So the people who work there sometimes have the misfortune of informing a patient that they have cancer. Some people take it well, and some people just assume it's a death sentence. This goes out to those people who just assume they're going to die.
WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?
That kind of mentality is just mind boggling to me. I've been through a rough time, but I'm fighting, and if I do say so myself I'm winning. Even if I don't win this fight, I think I still fought it well, and if I die I want to go down kicking and screaming. I've had my low points where I questioned whether or not I could do it, but I will be fighting this thing right down to my last breath. With all the statistics showing that cancer is becoming more and more treatable, I don't understand why you wouldn't choose your glass to be half full. Anyway, getting back to my conversation with the receptionist, I guess she's been doing this for a long time and she confirmed that those people who think they're going to die usually get their wish. I guess the biggest lesson I've learned from this whole experience is that the mind is stronger than anyone really thinks. I've lost 50 pounds so far, and I can barely lift my kids up sometimes, but I would argue that I am stronger now than I ever have been in my entire life. When I get my physical strength back, everyone in the powerlifting world better stand back and watch me kick all sorts of ass. I used to question if I would ever get back under a squat bar, but I have no doubts about it now.
People to this day still accuse Lance Armstrong of using performance enhancing drugs to get where he is today. People, I've got to warn you about something. NEVER INSULT LANCE ARMSTRONG IN MY PRESENCE. He is my idol, my hero, and I will kick your fucking ass if you bad mouth him in front of me. He went through more hell than me, and that's why he's the tough bastard he is today. Survive cancer and you'd be amazed at what you are able to do. That's his edge, and now that's MY edge.
And if you thought Lance Armstrong was tough, you've seen nothing until you've met my wife. I DARE you to take her on because she's been fighting right alongside me ever since this started. It's hard enough to fight cancer, but I think it's harder to watch a loved one do it and I doubt I could do what she's done. I take a backseat to her when it comes to strength and I would really fear for someone's life if they ever crossed her. Other than Lance Armstrong, she is my idol. Everyday she has a family to raise and a husband to care for, and she does it with a smile. She is my rock, my base, and the reason I'm here to type this today. Oh, and if you thought I'd kick your ass for insulting Lance Armstrong, that's nothing compared to what I'd do to you if you insulted her.
Before a heavy lift, my training coach Bruce would put on an AC/DC tape and blast it at full volume. There's a whole lot of AC/DC on the radio right now so that's probably why this journal entry is a little more angry. AC/DC just gets my adrenaline surging and really gets the blood boiling. I'm going to call it a day, but I'll have a running dialogue describing my laxative experience up tomorrow. We're also going to try and get a camera into the scope room on Monday to get pictures of me getting scoped. Don't worry, we'll only take pictures of the mouth scope. I don't want my butt on the internet. Yet :-)
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