The intergluteal cleft

The return of the peach emoji

The holidays were pretty rough.

I finished my second cycle of chemotherapy on Friday, December 23, just in time for Christmas, and my last radiation treatment on Tuesday, December 27. I had to return for one radiation treatment after Christmas to make up for a missed treatment due to equipment maintenance.

I tolerated both cycles of the chemo very well. After my last day of chemo they painlessly pulled out the PICC Line. I was looking forward to having my first shower in five weeks but they applied two dressings, which I could not get wet. The first dressing came off December 24 and the second dressing came off Christmas day … then I got to shower … aaahhhhh!

It was the radiation that made life difficult.

Over the Christmas weekend the radiation burns became extremely painful and by Tuesday I dreaded returning for the last treatment. The pelvis burns started out as red in the third week but over Christmas the redness became a deep burgundy, the skin blistered and then began to peel.

The same things were going on in the intergluteal cleft, aka the “butt crack”, my massage therapist taught me the proper medical terminology, however in this case I was also having issues with bowel movements and diarrhea. I was taking Imodium daily to control my bowel movements and in turn the pain associated with going to the bathroom.

On the morning, of my last radiation treatment I wanted to check something quickly on the computer. I wasn’t dressed yet and I didn’t want to sit on the rough fabric of our desk chair so I laid down a bed sheet folded many times over for extra padding and comfort. When I stood up ten minutes later the bed sheet came with me. The sheet was stuck to the seeping mucous and scabs in my intergluteal cleft … ASS CRACK!

In the other room, my husband, Bruce, had no idea what was happening. I screamed in agony as I pulled on the sheet ripping the scabs from my ASS CRACK like a kid trying to get his tongue off a metal post in the deep cold of winter.

Holy F*^&$#G $h|#!!!!

So, after my last radiation treatment, tender and traumatized, I visited the walk-in Radiation Nursing Clinic and had them do a skin assessment. I was pretty sure everything was normal for having just had 25 daily radiation treatments without a break but I wanted a professional opinion and I certainly didn’t want a repeat of earlier that morning.

The nurse congratulated me and told me my skin looked pretty good, it could have been a lot worse, and she said that I must have been taking good care of my skin throughout the treatment.

The nurse gave me some suggestions on how to improve what I was doing. She taught me a way to apply dressings to my pelvis and provided special padded gauze with anti-adhesive protection for my derriere. YEAH!

I have to continue applying the dressings for 2 ½ weeks. It makes it difficult to go to the toilet but the dressings keep all of the lotions and potions in place and prevent my skin from rubbing against my clothes … and my intergluteal cleft from accidentally sticking to something.

By New Year's Eve I was already starting to see some improvement and my skin is getting better each day.

I planned to return to work on January 16 … I secretly hoped that I would surprise everyone and return a week earlier but given all of the self-care I need to do; taking baths and applying dressings twice a day, and the difficulties I continue to have with going to the toilet, and the constant itching as things heal, it is best that I focus on the healing and not try to be the super hero I think I am. I will most likely return to work Jan.16.

The peach emoji

One of the first questions I get when I tell someone I have cancer is inevitably, “What kind of cancer?”

To be honest, I intentionally left out the specific type of cancer because I was a bit embarrassed and it was a moment of awkwardness when someone asked.

Just like you would never ask a woman how old she is or if she is pregnant, if someone doesn’t tell you what part of the body is affected by cancer … it might be best not to ask. It might be more than someone is ready to share or more than you want to hear.

I have a rare form of anal cancer … there I said it.

You see, we don’t talk openly about the cancers down there, you know, the ones below the belt.

Breast cancer, lung cancer, ovarian cancer, pancreatic cancer and liver cancer are all somehow easier to talk about and relate to than anal cancer, vaginal cancer, penile cancer, rectal cancer or prostate cancer.

Maybe it’s because we are little prudish.

Maybe it’s because we associate these body parts with sex … well, some of us … and others don’t even want to think about some of those body parts being used for sex.

Some people are more comfortable talking about those parts of the body than others. In my work I talk about sex and body parts (and all of their synonyms) a lot but when it came to talking abut my cancer I got a little shy and I’m not sure why.

We have to get over it.

We have to get comfortable with it.

We have to talk about it.

We have to do our self-examinations and speak with our doctors.

Not doing it is not an option.

Not doing it can kill you.

In iOS 10.2 Apple is redesigning the peach emoji so it looks less like a perfect cartoon bum and more like a perfect peach.

The Twitter-verse is worried about the future of sexting … I’m worried about how I can blog about 🍑 cancer while typing on my iPhone.