I remembered I had woken up in the middle of my colonoscopy, “Was that real? Did I dream that? Did I really hear someone say ‘biopsy’? That can’t be good…” As I was becoming more conscious after the procedure, I saw a nurse at my bedside who I felt like was intentionally not making eye contact with me. I thought was odd, but couldn’t put my finger on why.

My husband arrived to pick me up, looking chipper and excited for me that it was over. He knew how nervous I was about the procedure. I think I tried to smile at him, but I had this sinking feeling that something was not right.

It all became clear when my doctor came in and cut straight to the chase, as doctors often do, “I have some difficult news, unfortunately, we found a mass in your rectum that has a high liklihood of being cancerous. I am so glad you came in to see me when you did.” And, after a few weeks of various tests, scans, results being read and re-read, it was confirmed.

I have stage 3 rectal cancer.

I’m able to say that and type it now without bursting into tears like I did that day laying on that table, hospital gown still on, thinking for some reason that I hoped someone had covered my butt.

The nurse who wouldn’t look at me before brought me some water and helped dress me. This act of kindness was the first of many I’ve experienced from healthcare workers since I met my cancer. She hooked my bra for me. Put my underwear and pants on my legs. Put my socks and sneakers on my feet. It didn’t feel like pity. It felt like she was doing her best to truly care for me, a complete stranger, during the moment my life changed forever. She helped me get in a wheelchair and I was wheeled out to the car, unable to do anything except sit in stunned silence.

As my husband put the car into reverse, I burst into sobs. Experiencing a kind of fear I had never felt before. Expecting the worst case scenario.

Everyone asks me, “Why did you even get a colonoscopy in the first place? Were you experiencing symptoms? You’re so young!”

Yes, I am young. But, if you’ve been keeping up with the news recently, you probably have heard that rates of colorectal cancer have doubled in patients under 50 since the 90’s. And doctors don’t really know why.

And yes, I was having symptoms. Very minor, very intermittent symptoms at first, that I had brushed off as just being from my postpartum hemorrhoids after having my daughter four and a half years ago. From the best of my memory, these are the symptoms I had been experiencing for about 6 months to a year before my colonoscopy, starting with the most mild and escalating:

1. A small amount of bright red blood on the toilet paper every so often. More frequently if I was constipated.

2. More frequent bowel movements. I used to be a once-in-the-morning girlie and had turned into a two-to-three times a day gal.

3. Different-smelling gas

4. The feeling that I needed to have a bowel movement, but couldn’t/didn’t actually need to go

5. The feeling that even after having a bowel movement, that I haven’t fully emptied

6. Seeing some little mini blood clots on the toilet paper too, again only if I was constipated.

7. Lastly, the one that concerned me the most, was once I was at a black tie event, went to the restroom because I felt like I had to go, and only a single, large drop of blood came out.

When I see them listed out like this, it looks obvious. But living through it, with everything else in my life going on, it seemed like just a weird couple days or maybe my diet wasn’t the best. Or maybe it was because of the GLP-1 I was on for a few months (more on that in another post).

I had been considering seeing a colorectal doctor for about 2 years, just for my hemorrhoids. But they weren’t bothering me enough that I prioritized it. Then I started to notice some of those symptoms, but again, brushed it off. Feeling like I was being too dramatic or paying too close attention to that part of my body because of what I do for a living as a pelvic floor physical therapist.

I will always be eternally grateful to my first colorectal doctor who took my concerns seriously and strongly recommended a colonoscopy. She saved my life.