A Step Backward
After the removal of my bladder tumor, I began a regimen of regular cystoscopies. In the beginning, I went every three months. For the first year, I would ride a rollercoaster of concern, fear and anxiety. 90 days and all of the concern would peak. Then, the scope would be done. The all-clear would be sounded, and I would come back to my normal level of worry.
Preparing for the next scope
Somewhere in the 60-day area, I would begin to ramp up for the next scope. By day 80, I was generally in my head playing all the “what if” scenarios I could imagine. Scope day would arrive. I would go through the ritual, urine sample in the cup left in the bathroom. Strip from the waist down. Put the sheet on my lap and wait. Small talk with the doctor. No symptoms. No issues. Lay back, count the ceiling tiles, and wait for the results. All clear. Make the next appointment. The first year was tough.
Scopes every 6 months
The second-year saw me graduate to 6-month scopes. I was making progress, and I was elated. The anxiety and the worry were still a large part of the equation; however, the ramp-up and the let down were more spread out. I don’t know that it was better - maybe it was less bad? 6-month scheduling lasted for a long time (or so it seems). I do not remember how long, but my guess is a couple or three years.
Moving to once-a-year cystoscopies
When I was finally moved to the annual plan, I felt relief. Doc told me that annual was forever, but it was an accomplishment. I had survived long enough to reach a maintenance stage, and I was happy. Well…I was sort of happy. 10 minutes after being moved to a one year program, I began to think about all the things that could go wrong in a whole year. I was the child who is told he doesn’t have to hold mommy’s hand for the first time and then realizes how comforting that hand was. 3 months was horrible. 6 months was daunting. A full year. 12 months without even a visit?
My new normal
With time, I became accustomed to my annual cystoscopy. I would make small talk with the nurse and the doctor as we all prepared for our roles in the procedure. After, I would thank them and give a sigh of relief and return to my day-to-day. I had reached a new normal and found a workable routine. The truth be told, I became complacent.
My complacency shattered
I do not remember the exact year, maybe 10 or 11. I do remember the exact words, “See you in 6 months.” My complacency shattered like a vase dropped from a second-floor window. “What…why…what is wrong?” I know the terror in my voice was deafening. I could feel it in my throat, threatening to explode from my eyes in torrents of tears.
“Nothing, I saw a small red spot and I want to err on the side of caution. Don’t worry. I will see you in 6 months.” With that, he was gone and I was…
(I have sat here, staring at my screen for longer than I care to admit. Returning to this memory and fully feeling the weight of the words is overwhelming.)
Filled with terror
Hearing I had to be re-checked in 6 months was more devastating than my initial diagnosis. I felt as if all of the progress I had made was gone. I felt the very prospect of survival ripped from my grasp. The next 6 months were a continual upheaval of emotion and worry.
I was thankful
The appointment came and the scope was performed. The doctor smiled and said, “See you next year. What I saw is gone, and it could have just been a blood vessel. I am glad we checked, and now you can relax a bit.” With that, he was gone and I was…thankful. Yes, that is what I was and am, thankful.
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