Roger was a very good friend. He was best man at our wedding and godfather to our lovely daughter Hannah. We often met him in various bars in Makati City, Manila, smart bars and dive bars. We often went out with him to try a new restaurant and many times we were invited to his house for dinner often at short notice, usually crowded and always served late, but that was fine as he was a great cook. He passed away in early August 2010 of cancer of the colon, at the age of 52. We miss him a lot.
A few weeks after the funeral I consulted my usual gastro-enterologist. I told her about Roger and asked to have a colonoscopy soon. She immediately agreed. I should have had my first one at the age of 50 and then every three years after, she said. Heart disease, prostate cancer and colorectal cancer are the most common causes of death in men over 50, she told me.
The doctor insisted that I spend the day and night before in hospital. She explained that the laxative was more controllable there and I should be monitored too.
At 8 am on the day I was to be admitted, the hospital admissions department called me to say that, as no room was yet available, I should wait at home for their call. I was finally admitted at 3pm to start a very unpleasant 14 hours. After the usual tests of my vital signs I was handed a bottle of laxative and told to drink it all. I read the label and it was plain old Castor Oil, which used to be my mother's way of dealing with constipation when I was a boy. She gave me two teaspoons of it and it soon worked.
The bottle in my hand now was 60 millilitres and the first of three.
I bravely swallowed it in two doses and waited. An hour or so later the stomach pains began, soon followed by a rush or several rushes to the toilet. This continued for an embarrassing 2 hours. My wife was there helping me but eventually she called the housekeepers to clean up.
Another 60 millilitres had to be swallowed at 8 pm with the same tiring, uncomfortable, messy results. My wife was great, she was so patient and uncomplaining.
One more dose of the same size at midnight woke me at 4pm with a sudden bowel movement in bed. Nurses had to be called to clean me and the bed up. Even more embarrassment, especially as these ladies a had to strip me almost naked.
At 7 am I was checked for vital signs and and dressed in a robe for the operating room and then wheeled down on a bed to the procedure room. I lay there, waiting for the gastro-enterologist and the anaesthesiologist, looking at the rack of equipment for the colonoscopy. Then I noticed the probe that would be inserted. It was long and thick, I nearly ran away.
Finally both doctors arrived and one said that he was administering the anaesthetic through the IV tube already connected to my veins. The next thing I heard-
"You're in the Recovery Room Sir. In half an hour we will take you back to your room"
I was hungry and thirsty but my wonderful wife had coffee and a sandwich waiting for me. It was about 10 am.
Around 2 hours later the gastro-enterologist came to my room.
"I removed 2 polyps which is normal and there is a 20cm mass which does not look bad but if it is malignant it is only Stage 1 cancer. Come and see me in 4 days when I have the biopsy report".
So after some nail biting days I went to hear the worst or maybe best. She said the polyps were not malignant and the mass was still benign but it needed observation. Another colonoscopy in 6 to 12 months she ordered.
The following week I saw a nutritionist, a doctor whom I had found very helpful on several occasions. After studying the report she also confirmed that the mass was far from malignant.
However, she instructed me to make some lifestyle changes. Cured meats are banned for the moment, so favourites like prosciutto, jamon serrano, ham, corned beef, salami, chorizo and bacon are off the menu. I am to reduce red meat consumption to 2 to 3 times a month. I am taking calcium supplements and Vitamin D to reduce the acidity of my blood and now have Alkaline Water delivered with a ph of 8.2.
I can tolerate all of that to avoid surgery, chemotherapy and the horrors of a lingering end.
A few weeks after the funeral I consulted my usual gastro-enterologist. I told her about Roger and asked to have a colonoscopy soon. She immediately agreed. I should have had my first one at the age of 50 and then every three years after, she said. Heart disease, prostate cancer and colorectal cancer are the most common causes of death in men over 50, she told me.
The doctor insisted that I spend the day and night before in hospital. She explained that the laxative was more controllable there and I should be monitored too.
At 8 am on the day I was to be admitted, the hospital admissions department called me to say that, as no room was yet available, I should wait at home for their call. I was finally admitted at 3pm to start a very unpleasant 14 hours. After the usual tests of my vital signs I was handed a bottle of laxative and told to drink it all. I read the label and it was plain old Castor Oil, which used to be my mother's way of dealing with constipation when I was a boy. She gave me two teaspoons of it and it soon worked.
The bottle in my hand now was 60 millilitres and the first of three.
I bravely swallowed it in two doses and waited. An hour or so later the stomach pains began, soon followed by a rush or several rushes to the toilet. This continued for an embarrassing 2 hours. My wife was there helping me but eventually she called the housekeepers to clean up.
Another 60 millilitres had to be swallowed at 8 pm with the same tiring, uncomfortable, messy results. My wife was great, she was so patient and uncomplaining.
One more dose of the same size at midnight woke me at 4pm with a sudden bowel movement in bed. Nurses had to be called to clean me and the bed up. Even more embarrassment, especially as these ladies a had to strip me almost naked.
At 7 am I was checked for vital signs and and dressed in a robe for the operating room and then wheeled down on a bed to the procedure room. I lay there, waiting for the gastro-enterologist and the anaesthesiologist, looking at the rack of equipment for the colonoscopy. Then I noticed the probe that would be inserted. It was long and thick, I nearly ran away.
Finally both doctors arrived and one said that he was administering the anaesthetic through the IV tube already connected to my veins. The next thing I heard-
"You're in the Recovery Room Sir. In half an hour we will take you back to your room"
I was hungry and thirsty but my wonderful wife had coffee and a sandwich waiting for me. It was about 10 am.
Around 2 hours later the gastro-enterologist came to my room.
"I removed 2 polyps which is normal and there is a 20cm mass which does not look bad but if it is malignant it is only Stage 1 cancer. Come and see me in 4 days when I have the biopsy report".
So after some nail biting days I went to hear the worst or maybe best. She said the polyps were not malignant and the mass was still benign but it needed observation. Another colonoscopy in 6 to 12 months she ordered.
The following week I saw a nutritionist, a doctor whom I had found very helpful on several occasions. After studying the report she also confirmed that the mass was far from malignant.
However, she instructed me to make some lifestyle changes. Cured meats are banned for the moment, so favourites like prosciutto, jamon serrano, ham, corned beef, salami, chorizo and bacon are off the menu. I am to reduce red meat consumption to 2 to 3 times a month. I am taking calcium supplements and Vitamin D to reduce the acidity of my blood and now have Alkaline Water delivered with a ph of 8.2.
I can tolerate all of that to avoid surgery, chemotherapy and the horrors of a lingering end.
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