James’ story Decembeard All Decembeard Dry July Early-Onset Early-Onset Loved One Late-Onset My journey began rather recently and abruptly; however, I feel I was also extremely fortunate. I had a routine colonoscopy in September where they found some polyps. I thought nothing of it as they find polyps all the time. So, when I got a phone call three weeks later informing me that they had tested positive for cancer, I was in shock and disbelief. How can I have cancer? I feel fine. I am fit, healthy, and only in my early 40s. I do not drink alcohol, I don’t smoke, I eat well, and I regularly ride anywhere from 30 to 100+ km a couple of times a week. I was in shock, somewhat in denial, and had no idea what was to follow. I remember the call well—it was late on a Wednesday afternoon. I had just started a new business the week before and saw a private number calling. I figured it might have been a client. I answered with vigour, but the call ended with shock. That night, I told my wife that the hospital had called, and I had tested positive. Iexplained that we could expect a few appointments over the coming weeks. Well, the following weeks were a whirlwind. Within 24 hours, I had multiple appointments and procedures booked for the next week, including a CT scan, an MRI, ultrasounds, and a flexible sigmoidoscopy so they could tattoo the affected area. I went through all of these appointments. To be honest, I still wasn’t sure what the outcome would be. They hinted that they might need to surgically remove the area, but when they were talking about small polyps, I thought, “Yeah, okay, maybe they’ll remove a small biopsy—10 or 15 mm at most.” It wasn’t until after my sigmoidoscopy that I had another appointment with the surgical team. Again, I arrived with little idea of what I was about to hear. The surgeon drew a diagram of the colon and explained to my wife and me that I would need an operation to remove my sigmoid colon. It wasn’t a small 10–15 mm section but rather approximately 150–250 mm. They would perform a procedure called a lower anterior resection (LAR). The shock was compounded by the fact that they couldn’t determine if it were Stage 1 or Stage 3 cancer until after the surgery, when they could analyse the histopathology of the removed tissue. At first, I went into shock and nearly fainted on the clinic floor. I don’t remember much more of that appointment other than signing the consent form and booking a date for surgery in a few weeks. Once the shock subsided, I think I was in denial for the next few weeks. I went on living as normal and even managed to get away for a long weekend with my family before the surgery. It really set in the day before surgery—Wow, this is real, and I’m getting my body cut up and part of it removed. I remember thinking, Maybe this is overkill. Do I really need this? What happens if I don’t do it? The day came. On the 19th of November, about five weeks after that first call, I was in the hospital having surgery. I remember waking up that night with my wife by my side. The nurses and doctors told me that everything had gone well. I was in a lot of pain and on a cocktail of medications for pain relief. I was on a nil-by-mouth (NBM) diet for about 48 hours before being put on free fluids. But after not being able to digest the fluids, I became extremely bloated and was in significant pain. They attempted to insert a nasogastric (NG) tube to relieve the pain by pumping out my stomach. Unfortunately, I have a high gag reflex, and while they eventually got the tube down and cleared a fair amount, I vomited, and they ultimately removed the tube. After this, I was back on NBM for about 24 hours before reintroducing fluids. The next phase involved waiting until I stopped passing blood before they could remove the urinary catheter. I had been reassured that the removal would be painless, but I won’t forget the pain of that experience in a hurry—it was excruciating. I almost collapsed. Afterwards, I noticed that my scrotum and penis were badly bruised. Now, four weeks on from surgery, I still feel discomfort in that area. Although everything looks and functions fine, the discomfort remains, and I’ve been told to monitor it and keep my GP informed. Another side effect has been irregular bowel movements. Once the bowel bleeding stopped, they needed a solid stool sample before discharging me, which happened five days post-op. Since then, my bowel movements have been highly irregular. Because the procedure was so low in the colon, there is consistent pain, and I often feel the urge to go. Some days, I go two to three times; other days, it’s 15+ times. I’ve been told this could take a while to settle, and I hope it does as I really want to get back on my bike. All of that aside, I really can’t complain. I share this so that people are aware of some of the side effects and complications—not because I am looking for pity. I am one of the lucky ones. I recently got my histopathology report back, and they concluded that it was Stage 1 cancer, and all 15 nodes were clear. The surgery was a success. I can now focus on my recovery and getting back to life as normal. I am on a five-year monitoring plan, which includes blood tests every three months and a scan and colonoscopy every 12 months. The plan is to take it easy for a few more weeks and then hit the ground running in 2025. My family and I plan to travel around Australia and restructure our new business so we can share a percentage of the profits with causes close to our hearts, including Bowel Cancer Australia. I also plan to ride a lap of Tasmania on my bike within the next 18 months to raise awareness and funds for the cause. Published: December 27, 2024