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cancer 3
Colon
Again, all was well for a few years. I was a healthy and active as ever. So much so, I grew a little complacent about my health. I was approaching 39 and had yet to have a colonoscopy. I knew of Dad’s personal and family history with colon cancer, but for some reason it just didn’t register. Boy, did I screw up.
In November 1999, I did (well, tried) a local 5K run with a friend. The gun went off, and I was huffing and puffing within a quarter mile. Then, a sharp pain in the middle of my back felt as if someone was driving a knee right between my shoulder blades. When I started experiencing tunnel vision, I stopped. That wasn’t “out of shape.” Something was wrong.
(I have a confession: these symptoms really began in September and here it was late November. I learned a big lesson here: never ever ignore your body. If something isn’t quite right, get it checked out. Time to detect and treat a problem can mean everything – the difference between life and death, but also the difference between an easier and quicker treatment experience vs. pure hell with reduced chances of survival.)
My family doctor detected a heart murmur, so he referred me to a cardiologist. This was when I found out about my heart valve.
I was crushed. Not again. Heart surgery? You have got to be kidding me! Little did I know that my heart valve was the least of my worries. Pre-op tests found me to be anemic. I was losing blood somewhere. A colonoscopy revealed a lemon-sized tumor in my transverse colon. The scary part was not knowing if it had gone through the colon wall and into other organs. Only surgery would tell.
Then came the realization:
“Any history of colon cancer in your family?”
“Uh, yes. My dad in 1988.”
Then I thought, “who HASN’T had colon cancer?” That disease has devastated the Plott family. My grandfather, three uncles, two half-uncles and a half-aunt have all had it – and most have died from it.
Then my cardiologist arrives.
“You have us in a difficult position here.”
(They’re in a difficult position?)
The challenge was to fix the artery before colon surgery. A coronary artery was discovered to be 80 percent blocked. To open it, they would insert a stent, requiring a platelet-inhibitor until tissue could grow over it. I would be on the drug right up to the colon surgery. Controlling the bleeding would be tricky.
Surgery confirmed my colon cancer at stage IIIB; the tumor had broken through the colon wall and into surrounding lymph nodes, but other organs were clear. However, I kept bleeding inside. I would get a unit of blood, pep up for a while, and then back down again. I went through 13 units of blood between my surgery on Wednesday and Friday morning.
I was going downhill fast and back on a gurney headed into surgery. This was the only time I doubted I would make it.
The anesthesiologist said, “You’ll be out in a few sec…”
Then next thing I know, I’m waking up in post-op. I’m alive!
Surgery went well. I promised my parents and myself that I would do whatever it takes to make sure this turns out right. It was nice to finally leave ICU and get a regular room. Each day got a little better, and then pneumonia set in. But after what I had just been through, pneumonia? No problem.
I was released from the hospital on New Year’s Eve. I settled myself on the couch and watched the millennium New Year’s celebrations on TV.
I knew chemotherapy was in store – but not today.
I researched chemotherapy options and met with Dr. Jordan Berlin at Vanderbilt. We began 5-FU, but there were still unknowns. My blood counts were still low. I could be suffering long-term effects from my past chemo and radiation, and now we were putting more chemicals into my body. If my blood counts dropped much lower, I might have to stop … and stopping wasn’t an option if I wanted to survive. Luckily, I tolerated the chemo.
A month after my last treatment, I completed an MS150 Bike Tour event – that’s 150 miles on a bicycle, and it felt great.
today
Cancer-free
This year, I am celebrating 10 years cancer free. This milestone has inspired me to reflect on my experiences and realize just how fortunate I am. Fortunate not only to be alive to tell about it, but to have the opportunity to meet fellow “travelers” through my volunteering with The Hope Connection.
It’s taken three bouts of cancer and 48 years, but I finally
“get it.”
I’ve learned to take life as it comes. The universe isn’t out to get Kevin Plott, and I’m not being punished or suffering the effects of a karmic agenda. On the contrary, I believe I’m still around to share what I’ve learned and to help others dealing with cancer.
If I had a child, I would probably share these insights about living: Attitude is everything. Follow your heart. Don’t take things personally or yourself too seriously. Always look forward. Listen. Laugh.
Oh, and ride your bike. 
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