The worst day of my life, pt. 2

In August of 2016 I changed my gastroenterologist. I wasn’t happy with the care I was getting from the previous gastroenterologist.

My chief complaint was an annoying itchy skin tag. The skin tag was biopsied in November 2015 and the result was that it was pre-cancerous so, without warning, the first gastroenterologist cut it off with a pair of scissors. Then he applied silver nitrate to cauterize the wound and stop the bleeding. OUCH!

I fired him.

My new gastroenterologist, after reviewing the pathology, referred me to a surgical oncologist at PrincessMargaret Cancer Care Centre in Toronto to have it properly, and completely, excised.

The surgery was scheduled for mid-September and after it was excised the tissue was biopsied again.

The worst day of my life came a few weeks later on October 6, 2016.

That was when I found out that I have a rare form of cancer.

Now, I know I am not the first person to be diagnosed with cancer and I am not the first person with HIV to be diagnosed with cancer. So what’s the big deal, right?

It’s me.

When you receive a diagnosis of a life-threatening disease or a serious illness, it’s all about you.

Everything closed in around me. I had fallen into a deep dark black hole.

The small hospital examination room suddenly felt like an interrogation room with a bright light shining in my face and a vast empty nothingness beyond the dark shadows.

I choked back tears. I tried to listen. I tried to focus on the doctor speaking to me. I tried to ask questions. I tried to take notes.

My mind and body became numb.

So what makes my cancer diagnosis worse than my HIV diagnosis?

I may be rewriting my own version history but I don’t remember any of this happening when I was diagnosed with HIV.

What makes this the worst day of my life?

Age.

I’m not young and invincible any more.

Mortality.

I’m older and something other than HIV is going to kill me some day.

Fear.

The treatment scares the fuck out of me.