would have been disastrous, throwing waste, colon, and cancer cells everywhere. The surgery was successful as my entire tumor (measuring 3.5 by 3.9 centimeters) and sixty-eight lymph nodes (twelve of which would prove to be cancerous), as well as the single drop metastasis on my peritoneum, were removed. Because the surgery was performed laparoscopically, recovery was a walk in the park, with bowel function returning thirty-six hours later, and minimal pain.
Once the surgery was over and the immediate emergency resolved, I had a lot of time to lie, sit, and sometimes walk aimlessly about, looking at and listening to the world around me but seeing and hearing nothing. I was too preoccupied with the business of beginning the lengthy process of absorbing and coming to grips with what had happened, was happening, and would likely happen to me.
On the day before surgery, July 9, when for the first time in days we felt “settled” and knew what the immediate next steps were, Josh had the energy and time to write an email with the subject line “Julie” to family and friends, some of whom we hadn’t spoken to in years. The shock was immediate and total as family and friends called, texted, and emailed. I was morbidly curious to know how people reacted as they read the words, but I didn’t ask. Did they collapse in a chair? Did they start crying? What did they think? Were they sad for me and Josh? Were they secretly relieved this hadn’t happened to them? Were they afraid that it could?
Indeed, in addition to coming to terms with my own emotions, part of the acceptance process was absorbing and addressing the reactions of family and friends around me, sometimes allowing, but more often deflecting, their incredulity, horror, fears, sorrows, and hopes, sometimes permitting them to be my strength and comfort, and sometimes being theirs.
Of immediate concern to me was Josh. Rightly or wrongly, I’ve always felt that Josh is not as strong as I when it comes to handling life’s challenges; I’ve had more practice than he; I’m a woman, and I firmly believe women are generally emotionally more capable and resilient. To be fair to Josh, though, I think my illness is much harder on him than it is on me, because he is the one who faces the prospect of going on without me to raise our children and pick up the pieces as I go forth into my next adventure beyond this life. It’s always harder for the one left behind. But in those days after the surgery, I could not be his strength, certainly not nearly to the degree he needed. As he agonized and tried to find holes in the studies that offered the sobering statistics about Stage IV colon cancer, tried to spin the facts in the most favorable light possible (i.e., my relative youth, strength, access to the best medical care in the world, et cetera), he would drive me nuts. I would kick him out of my room to get breakfast at one of the many eateries in happening and trendy Santa Monica. I’d beg him to call his friends and family in New York and South Carolina, who were the foundation of his support system. I’d force him to go out for a beer with my brother or take our girls to the beach. I’d order him out in the evenings so he could go on solitary walks; exercise was important.
One night, he walked all the way to the pier, where he found an arcade with one of his favorite childhood games—Pac-Man. He played and he played until he had one quarter left. He made a deal then with himself, with God, with the forces of the universe in an attempt to peer into the future. If I break the record (a record set by someone else) with this last quarter, he told himself, then Julie will beat this cancer. He broke the record and came back to me giddy with excitement. So much for his steadfast belief in statistics…
The day after surgery—the day after we all knew I had Stage IV colon cancer—my sister (who had also made the trip to Los Angeles from New York for the family wedding and reunion) came to visit. She told me how she had not been able to sleep much of the night before, but then suddenly, as she was sitting in the dark, she was overcome by an absolute knowing that I would