There’s a little, teeny, tiny piece of me questioning whether cancer might once again live in my body. The question stems from a year’s worth of undiagnosed tummy trouble manifesting itself sometimes in simple discomfort and other times in downright pain. Some days, my stomach is tight as a drum, pushed out so far I think it’s going to pop. Other times, I feel bloated, full, and cramped. It’s all so unpredictable, and I have yet to pinpoint anything specific that is twisting up my insides. Doctors have not found any real answers, either. They did diagnose pelvic floor dysfunction, but apparently, the gut issues are a separate beast. The good news is that a battery of tests have revealed that my esophagus, cardia, pancreas, gall bladder, and a few other organs are in fine shape. That brings me peace. Really, it does. But I kinda wish the professionals could spot something, anything that might help me fix what ails me. One doc thought maybe chemo drugs were to blame, but another said it’s unlikely — if chemo drugs were to muck up my system, it would have happened at the time of treatment, not almost 8 years later.
Tomorrow, I meet with my GI specialist for a round-up discussion about all of my normal test results and about what the next step will be. I fear there will be no next step, that I will just live in this state of blah, eating only minimally because it’s the only thing that makes me feel better but is surely not a healthy remedy.
Cancer is not my main worry — it’s just that I’ll never totally excuse its possibility since it’s happened to me once already. Not knowing what’s wrong is my No. 1 concern.