How it all Began
We were in the midst of the “Great Recession,” 2010 and full-time work was hard to find, so I worked three part-time jobs. If that wasn’t stressful enough, my “internal plumbing” was giving me a lot of trouble. Most of my days were spent juggling work schedules and looking for bathrooms. I was tired all the time but blamed it on the fact my day started at 5 am, to make sure I got my “morning business” done before I was sitting on the 5 freeway, driving to my first job. There is nothing worse than having a bathroom emergency and finding yourself stuck in rush hour traffic!
Over the years I saw different doctors hoping to find out what was going on and each of them told me the same thing; I was suffering from stress or IBS — caused by too much stress. Then one day I found drops of blood on my toilet paper after I wiped myself. About six months before my “correct” diagnosis, a nurse practitioner insisted the blood was from hemorrhoids that were probably aggravated by (you guessed it) stress! My gut feeling said it was something else but exactly what, I didn’t know, so I went along with his diagnosis. The bleeding continued for the next few months.
This wasn’t the first time I had trouble getting a correct diagnosis from western medicine doctors. When I was forty, I started having heavy periods twice a month. I went to a woman’s clinic to get a pap smear and was told the results were normal. A couple of months went by and I wasn't feeling right. My energy was low. I saw a female doctor who said I was anemic. I asked if I was starting menopause, but she assured me that I was too young for that, and told me to take iron pills and wear thicker pads on those “heavy flow days.”The bleeding got so bad I started missing work because I sometimes bled through my clothes. There was something wrong with me but didn’t know who to turn to for help. Two different doctors already said I wasn’t sick. At the time I was working as a waitress and one day I mentioned my problem to a female customer who ate in the restaurant a few times a week. Since we shared stories about our personal lives, I felt comfortable enough to ask her if she had problem periods like mine. “Yes.” She said. “You need to see an acupuncturist. They will straighten you out.”
A week later I was sitting in an exam room at the Acupuncture and Integrated Medicine College in Berkeley. This was my first experience with acupuncture so I had no idea what to expect. After checking my pulse and looking at my tongue it was determined that I was perimenopausal. Finally, I had a diagnosis! My periods were back to normal within a month, but I would have to go back monthly for treatments until I was finished going through “the change.” It took five years.
The day after Christmas in 2010, I woke up having trouble breathing. When I got out of bed my legs felt so heavy I could barely walk, so my husband decided I needed to go to the emergency room. An hour later we checked in with the ER receptionist. No sooner did we sit down, when my name was called. I was ushered into a room where a nurse took my vitals. She said everything looked normal. “I thought, how can that be possible when I feel so bad?” It wasn’t long before the ER doctor showed up. She told me everything looked good but before she sent me home, she wanted to take some blood from me. “Maybe that will give us a clue as to what is going on.”
An hour later she came back and announced, “I know what’s wrong with you. Forty percent of your blood is gone. Are you bleeding somewhere?”
“Yes, from my rear-end.”
“How long has that been going on?”
“Four months, but only it was only a few drops a day.”
The doctor yelled, “YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!”
“No, I’m not kidding. Actually, I’m relieved to know there really is something wrong with me. So, all I need is a little blood and then we can go home. Right?”
The ER doctor smiled, “Oh no, my dear. You will be our guest at the hospital for a while.”
I sat there dumbfounded. Little did I know my life was about to change forever.
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Over the next week, I was given four pints of blood and went through a battery of tests, including a colonoscopy that revealed I had rectal cancer. In the recovery room, a nurse showed me a picture of my colon. The tumor looked like dryer lint, grey, and fuzzy. She asked me if I wanted the photo. I responded with, “Oh. yes. They will be this year’s Christmas cards.” She put it in a folder and left. Later that day I had an MRI which showed cancer had spread to my liver. I did not just have rectal cancer, I had Stage Four rectal cancer!
I have always been stubborn so I refused to allow cancer to take me down. I was determined to survive the odds. Any treatments my doctors suggested would be fine with me. My medical team decided the best course of action was to first undergo liver resection to cut out the tumor and then chemo and radiation to shrink the tumors in my rectum. After all of that my colon would be removed.
My liver surgery was a couple of days later and I went home two days after that, only to return in less than a week. The tumor in my rectum hemorrhaged. I was bleeding much faster this time. My colorectal surgeon. Dr. C decided the best way to stop the bleeding was to cauterize the inside of my rear-end. Translation; He was going to take a blow torch, shove it inside my booty and fry that sucker until it stopped bleeding
I won’t sugarcoat it. It hurt like holy hell! I never felt pain like that before. Have you ever fallen down and scraped your knee and kept peeling off the scab? That’s what my butt felt like when I pooped. Even a fart felt like a hot poker. I couldn’t sit down. I couldn’t walk. I couldn’t lie down on my left side. Everything I did hurt my butt, so I did the only thing that made sense to me. I screamed.
Then I was introduced to the wonderful world of opiates. Vicodin became my best friend. He soon introduced me to his cousin, Dilaudid and for the next six months, the three of us partied like rock stars. At least in my mind, we did.

Inge..you are a hero...I love how you are intrepid and keep your sense of humor in the face of everything that has transpired. ❤
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