I had my fourth colonoscopy in three months this morning. There had been a couple spots on my colon that were suspicious. The surgeon has been scraping away at them trying to get rid of the bad tissue and get down to good tissue. Good news today is that he finally got rid of it. He then said, “It was on the verge of being cancer“.
I’m okay. I have to have another colonoscopy in two months but I’ve dodged a bullet. One that my two brothers and assorted relatives haven’t. I can breathe.
I will be having genetic testing in a few weeks. The doctor is sure I have Lynch Syndrome, a genetic mutation that raises the risk of colon cancer to 60% to 80% in one’s lifetime. In women it can cause ovarian cancer too. My sister had ovarian cancer when she was in her twenties. One of my cousins was recently diagnosed with it. My grandfather, Clarence Bott, died from colon cancer in 1937 at the age of 40. I can remember my Uncle Bob dying at 41 when I was a teenager. We called it the family curse. If my father hadn’t died in a car accident at the age of 42 he probably would have succumbed to it as he was obviously a carrier.
On to cycling.
When I get these colonoscopies I don’t eat for three days before and I’m week for a few days after. That means no exercise and no cycling. Plus I’ve been under an incredible amount of stress. That ends now.
I plan to get on the bike. I’ll be sixty in two years. I plan to be the fittest I’ve ever been by then. Who knows, I may even enter Calvin’s Challenge.