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So.  Denial isn't a river in Egypt. 

"If I don't write about it, it didn't happen". 

Sorry, Heather, it doesn't work that way. 

Ron has had some rectal bleeding for a while.  I mentioned it to him, he wasn't interested. 

We have always had "bad" toilets until last year, so we make it a habit to throw the paper in a trash can.  Ron also uses unscented baby wipes.  I've been finding them, soaked with blood... and it was getting worse. 

Ron mentioned he was having urgency, frequency, etc.  I mentioned I was finding clots in the toilet, which I have, and I was very worried.  "It's as bad as when I'm on my period" I told him "Except yours isn't stopping.  Can we please see a doctor?"

We went to the family practice doc.  When he heard Ron was having urgency and then passing a {yay big gesture with my hands} blood clot, he said "You need to go to the ER!" and wrote a letter for us to take. 

He was very alarmed.  We got a lot of that yesterday. 

At first, at the doc and at the ER, they thought "Oh, oversensitive wife saw a drop on the TP".  Then I produced this morning's wet wipe, soaked with blood (in a baggie).  They sure changed their tune when the CAT scan came back with a MASS in his proximal colon. 

They couldn't wait to get rid of us, after that. 

I woke up with a horrible migraine.  We had a trip planned to Arby's.  I got the food but didn't eat it until later.  I did take everything As Directed. 

We went to the doc.  Then took Lou the cab driver to the hospital, and then home after that. 

I had nightmares about losing Biscuit and Gravy, and didn't wake rested.  I did my God Time. 

I asked Ron if he'd like some more split peas and ham.  He said yes.  So I put the beans on to soak with some black pepper.  "You like about 1/2 t per cup of beans" I told him. 

I ran to the drugstore, hoping to find some iron pills.  Ron clearly needs iron with all the blood loss.  They didn't have a good value,  or good brands.  I would be ashamed to give that to Ron. 

I left the drugstore and went out to the bus stop. 

I was at the bus stop talking to Ron. A man came over and sat down nearby. I didn't pay attention.

Ron was talking about how he had passed some more clots, and I was teasing him; told him I'd get him a tampon when I got home.

I hung up.

"He got cancer?" the man asked
Yes, probably.
"Don't worry about it. I been stage 4 for 12 years." He took out a half-smoked cigarette, and lighted it. He smoked it as we talked.
He told me he had prostate cancer, went to his bones.
He went with the program and made a good recovery.
"Everyone walking around with somethin'. Some you know, some you don't. You know his, but you don't know what you might have. God gonna take care of you."

He continued with the peptalk for a while, an older black man with crooked teeth, smoking, telling me about cancer recovery.

"You just love him and make sure he do what the doc says."

I can handle that.

I still feel like I got kicked in the chest. I'm going to need a couple days on this.

I went to the grocery store.  I bought Ron his ham, and some other things.  He says high fiber foods seem to help.

It rained.  I called Lou the cab driver to take me home.  I took a nap, more nightmares.  I got the beans started with the ham.  Ron loves them, says they are the best thing I ever made.

I like this concept, because it uses canned meat, which I can store easily.   I have a tiny freezer. 

Ron kept eating bowl after bowl.  No problems with his appetite. 

What a week.