When You Have to Play with Snakes

by Larry Puls, @larrypulsauthor

Endometrial Cancer; Lymph Node Involvement

The CT scan tells a story. Maybe not the hopeful story we wanted. In the pelvis, there is an enlarged uterus and within its walls sits a cancer—now seeping blood. The biopsy confirms the diagnosis. The cells under the microscope show its cancerous pattern. And though this is not a good thing, it’s not the worst thing here. What is worse is the six-centimeter cancerous lymph node that has found a home on top of the vena cava—the largest vein in the human body. It jumps out from the images on the computer, almost taunting me.

Ruminating over the complexity of the forthcoming surgery, I find myself filled with trepidation. The vena cava is about two inches across and serves as a conduit for so much blood per second that it intimidates most surgeons. And the wall of that vessel is not much thicker or stronger than wet tissue paper. And in this case unfortunately, the devil is sitting on that vein.

Personal Reflections Before My Cancer Surgery; Chapter One; Coco's Journey

by Larry Puls, @larrypulsauthor

Personal Reflections Before My Cancer Surgery

Unsympathetically, the alarm clock blares. I wake, perplexed. How early is it? Studying the face of the clock, nothing registers. I rub my eyes... Three fifteen am. Then unexpectedly, fear sweeps in and pervades me. Reasons for the early morning hour come flooding into my head. Surgery is only five hours away.

Stubbing a toe on my way downstairs, I catch myself before falling. My legs wax unsteady. Rounding the corner to the kitchen, I turn on the lights and see my note. There is no coffee in the maker and I cannot have a cup today. Grrr. My shoulders shrug. I have nowhere else to go but to the kitchen table, where I sit. There in the window is a reflection of a woman who doesn’t really look like me—and yet I know that it is. How did I get here, in this place, in this predicament? I arrive at no answers.