It has been over three years since my MOAS (Mother Of All Surgeries). It lasted 10 hours, which is relatively short, and I had my gall bladder, about a third of my colon, about 4 ft of small intestines and my omentum removed. There was also a lot of scraping and removal of the tumor. I had 90 mins of heated chemo during the surgery, which did cause some complications a few days later. My white blood cell count plummeted to 0.96, which meant I was very susceptible to infection. Fortunately with some shots and a lot of prayer, a couple of days later it was back up to 16. I spent 17 days in the hospital and about 4 weeks at home recovering. Oh, and I also went home with an ileostomy (which I had before the MOAS).
I remember a lot of the thoughts that went through my mind the 5 months between being told I had cancer to the time of my MOAS. I remember thinking I would be dead in a few years. With the ostomy, I thought that my life was basically never going to be the same. I thought that I would never ride my motorcycle again. Never be able to go to the movies, or a restaurant or ever travel further than a few dozen yards from my house in case something happened to the ostomy bag. I remember lying in bed with no energy wondering if I would ever feel normal again.
After the ostomy was reversed about 4 and a half months later, I had so many bowel problems, once again there were times I thought I would basically be debilitated due to having to go to the bathroom about 10 - 15 times a day. I thought I would never be able to travel because I had to always be close to a bathroom, and even thinking about taking a trip on a train, plane or even my motorcycle scared me.
Even though I have been taking medication that helps control the bowel movements, I still have days with diarrhea, gas, etc. BUT, it’s nowhere as bad as I thought it would be. As a matter of fact, this week I started thinking about everything I have done since my MOAS over three years ago. I am back to riding my motorcycle (getting a new one in April), and have even taken a couple of multi-day trips (one even when I had my ostomy). I have traveled to Israel and floated in the Dead Sea. I’ve been on a cruise to Alaska and walked on a glacier. I’ve ridden the Florida Keys on a motorcyle. Visited Boothill and Tombstone in AZ and walked up a mountain to help raise money to fight cancer. I’ve travelled to the Bahamas and gone snorkeling in the Caribbean. I’ve ridden a jet ski and we were able to eat in one of the top ten restaurants in the world.
Why do I tell you all this? To let you know that there IS life after the MOAS. It took awhile before I started to feel somewhat normal again, but it did happen. Of course “normal” is different than it was before I was diagnosed with cancer.
So for those of you who have just gone through the MOAS, or are about to, don’t give up hope. Try to keep a positive attitude, try to excersice as much as you can keep plugging away. And remember to live one day at a time.
For others that have gone through the MOAS, let us know what you have accomplished since your surgery by leaving a comment. Let’s show everyone that there is life after the MOAS.
Kevin
On October 5, 2006, Bob and Becky Bowden stood at the foot of my
hospital bed, the night before my MOAS surgery, probably not fully
comprehending how much inspiration and incredible morale boosting
they were to me, just seeing a survivor of the ordeal I was about to
experience.
Since I had some complications afterward, I really thought life would
never be good again, and had a hard time with ‘cabin fever’ and
depression while in the hospital.
Since my mate deserted me during my battle, I have been busy with
setting up a place to live and work, so I haven’t been on this list
in quite awhile. I have officially gone back to full time work now,
and this was my first real normal day since before my MOAS surgery.
I am sharing my journal entry for today with you all, hoping that it
will encourage you to believe that everything will work out for you,
and that you will get well:
I promise you that I’m not looking for atta boys or congratulations
or praise when I tell you about my feelings today.
I cannot forget my hopelessness, pain, nausea and misery during my
horrible cancer ordeal. It’s still fresh on my mind.
And because of that, my day was so incredible that I want to spend
the night on my knees praying.
I am so grateful that I am crying as I write this. It’s meant for my
journal, but I thought I’d share it with you all.
My first real day back at work, just like I used to do. Lying in
that hospital, I thought it would never happen again. It felt so
surreal.
This morning I cooked breakfast for my brother (bacon, eggs, coffee)
and realized, once again, that after not being able to eat for almost
three months, food tastes incredibly good to me now. Then he went to
put up a gate and work on fences and I caught “Huckleberry” (the new
gold cream champagne stud colt) to give him his halter lessons.
While I was running my hands up and down his legs, picking up his
feet, feeling the breeze underneath the big oak tree we were standing
under, I realized that I have won life’s lottery. I am doing what I
love for a living. Gosh, I think I must be intoxicated by this
incredible weather!
After I turned the mare and colt out, I went to saddle up my first
horse, first working day in 9 months! (I had prior surgery in
July.) I rode Tux first, and quickly realized that I completely blew
the money I paid the young guy to train him while I was recovering.
He is almost emaciated and totally ignorant of the bit. Still, I put
that out of my mind and enjoyed the ride. I couldn’t ride him too
long — he’s too weak, but I felt it was important to ride him a
little to encourage his appetite.
Then I saddled the beautiful jet black Royal Master gelding. He gave
me a fantastic ride — huge back end, a little pacy, but when driven
into the bit, flows and shakes his head. As I rode under a canopy of
trees, I thought that the world had never looked so beautiful to me
before. This will sound corny to someone who doesn’t know what it’s
like to think your world is over, but I never even knew the meaning
of the word beauty before.
After an exhilarating ride, I took him back to the barn, rinsed him
off and put him back in his stall. Then I saddled up “Yeller
Feller”, a lively young palomino who is almost white now, but has a
golden coat starting to show from underneath his winter hair. I took
him back out in the pasture and passed a huge oak tree that had three
younger trees which had sprouted up through its limbs. I thought,
immediately, of taking a picture to share this really neat and
unusual formation. I took Yeller Feller through the mud, past the
cattle, which scared him a bit, and back up to the front, past the
motorcycle trailer which totally freaked him out. I spent quite
awhile on him, and then when I put him up, it was time to feed again,
a chore that is so enjoyable to me.
After the horses got through eating, I turned several of them out in
the big pasture and they ran like wild mustangs for at least 20
minutes. It was so much fun to watch. Poor Gunsmoke, the stallion,
watched from his stall and paced in agony, wanting to be with them.
I am so blessed. I just keep wondering what I did to deserve these
blessings, and hoping that I can truly earn them. Could it be
possible for cancer to be a gift? Honestly, life is much richer now.