Living with cancer: A different kind of vacation
December 9, 2009 by Deandra Trevino
Filed under Living with Cancer, Perspective
Photo by Molly Plann.
My husband and I love to take vacations, because when you have cancer, time away from chemo is probably what it feels like for an employee to take a vacation away from a nasty boss: pure bliss.
I love to go to Vegas, try my luck at the blackjack tables, see a show and eat some fancy dinners. It’s a great vacation where you can get everything done in a long weekend, but what I didn’t know was that my bowel loves vacations, too.
Sound weird?
Our Vegas trip was set, bags were packed, money in hand and the only thing left was getting on the plane. Little did I know, my view of the water show at the Bellagio would end up being a view of the cancer-center parking lot; my down comforter pillow with 1,000 thread count sheets would be a stiff hospital bed; and instead of enjoying a pinot noir and filet at Le Cirque, I would be eating ice chips at Le Cancer Ward.
The night before we were scheduled to leave I awoke with this unbearable pain centered in my stomach and radiating into my back. No big deal, just ignore it because nothing was going to keep me from boarding that plane. Regrettably, by 3:30 a.m. I was sobbing, and on the pain indicator (the one you see at doctor’s offices with a smiley face all the way up to a red face with blown up cheeks), I had hit the face off the radar.
Imagine a purple, mascara-stained face with a look of absolute horror, sweat pouring and matted black hair; that was me.
I had a bowel obstruction. Bowel obstruction equals a five-night stay in the hospital with no food or drinks, praying it will heal itself by giving the gut a rest hoping to eliminate the need for surgery. Needless to say, there was no Wayne Newton. Only my husband doing a rendition of Viva Las Vegas with his own twist, Viva Las Foothills. I laughed and cried at the same time.
After spending four days in the hospital, my bowel obstruction was looking less like an obstruction and more like an ileus, or “sleepy bowel.” Basically, a small part of your bowel becomes inactive sometimes requiring surgery. Luckily, I dodged that surgery, was released from the hospital days later after my “sleepy bowel” decided to wake the heck up, and we are rescheduling our trip for Nov. 13.
We have to make light of it. This is the fifth trip that we have had to cancel due to unforeseen complications from my disease.
Having cancer has forced me to disregard how I’d like my life to go and accept whatever comes my way. Not dwell on the bad, and enjoy the good, even it’s watching a funny made-for-TV movie on a 13-inch hospital television. My family, husband and friends sat in my hospital room laughing at our misfortune and enjoying each other’s company, which, at the end of the day, trumps all.
I just wish my Vegas package wouldn’t have been downgraded to a single in the west wing of the Foothills hospital.
— By Deandra Trevino
Trevino, of Boulder, was diagnosed with stage 3C ovarian cancer in July of 2007. Check out her online blog at www.carepages.com, and search “deandramtrevino.” Contact her at deandra.trevino@gmail.com.
Powerful story line……Deandra has a great way of bringing you into the moment and making it real!
Even though you're gone, you will remain an inspiration. R.I.P. Deandra.