Chemo Bath

I’ve never been the biggest fan of baths. Ever since cancer attacked my body, showers have also been annoying. Probably the daily ear infection due to my extra ear hairs (thanks Panitumumab).

But two baths stand out among the rest, impacting my daily life. One: my HIPEC surgery last September that killed off my colon cancer metastasis and turned my stage 4 diagnosis into no visible signs of cancer. Two: My baptism on my 11th birthday was a visible reminder to myself and others of my commitment to serving God. Currently HIPEC bath crowds out my baptism in taking up brain space so we’ll start there.

HIPEC: Hyperthermic Intraperitoneal Chemotherapy. In case you don’t speak medical, that’s a hot chemo bath for your abdominal cavity. Partnered with Cytoreductive surgery to pick out all the visible cancer, and sometimes colon resection or other organ removals, HIPEC kills most of the invisible cancer cells. The ones that escaped from my small colon tumor and got stuck in the peritoneum on the way to my ovary. Skipping the lungs and liver where colon cancer usually spreads.

But back to this bath. The seven-hour surgery started with shooting pain down the front of my foot and leg with the epidural. So much for the prior planning to make sure my redheaded self could have working pain meds. See my first surgery before I knew my tumor was cancerous, I got switched from outpatient to 2 nights in the hospital to get the pain under control. But it failed and I broke out of the hospital as soon as I could stand the 1-hour ride home in pain. Oxycodone that everyone in the supportive groups mentions as so wonderful did nothing. Not even combined with two other pain meds. First on my brand-new list of pain meds that don’t work… with Vicodin following as I remembered taking it to high school. Unaware it was such a strong pain killer as I still had a headache with it.

So, my new team had planned ahead, and my anesthesiologist knew that red hair meant a gene that gave me a higher pain tolerance and a need for more anesthesia. Thankfully she had a backup plan that could be implemented after a clear emergency CT scan. My dad was helpful in this process as my mom, who I get my medical queasiness from, was being babysat by the nurses to make sure she didn’t pass out after a close encounter while discussing my history. I later learned she was able to use her faith and preparedness to serve the others in the waiting room once she got herself under control. Also different was a widely expanded prayer network as my church, my mom’s church, my grandparent’s church, all of the churches I used to go to and/or had connections with in any way were praying for me. This helped set a much calmer stage as I trusted that God had me even if there were unknowns that arrived during surgery.

Finally, I’m under… knowing that my body is like the game of Operation, with tumors being picked out and organs moved out of the way for better sight lines. Colon being trimmed and sewn back, and whatever else was agreed on beforehand or my parents signed as my health care power of attorney while I was under. I’m super thankful that I was able to give them that responsibility and trust that they would use it in alignment with what I wanted.

Then came the HIPEC part. Described by Dr Google as an hour and a half of the chemotherapy moving throughout the abdominal cavity, bathing the organs in the drug to kill any remaining invisible cells. Then the liquid being sucked out and my 9.5-inch abdominal incision sewed up with interior stitches through the layers of muscle. And off the step-down ICU floor for close monitoring.

There I would get connected to a pain medicine pump, delivering a dose whenever I pushed the button. Straight into my chest port. I quickly started walking, pushing the IV pole and button as I went. Regaining my strength slow and steady. O I missed that button when it got removed, but the high pain tolerance came in handy. As I started to recover, I spent time resting in prayer leaning into the habit I had developed while working as a campus minister with InterVarsity and honed as a foster parent. Whenever something seemed hard or my mind seemed overwhelmed, I would lay quietly in my bed and talk to God. These regular ‘naps’ commonly came after school or when I needed some introvert time, but in the hospital, I needed it to refocus on what really mattered. I carved out that space to rest and heal, either alone in the room or sometimes chatting with a close friend. I knew it would help keep my stress levels lower and aide in the healing.

Even at home I saw drastic changes in my body’s recovery compared to my first surgery as both my mom and I had learned better how to prepare for the 3+ weeks of needing a caregiver. My lift chair was ready, a set up with everything I needed in the living room, and food to match my new diet. I had devotionals by each toilet for a quick dose of God while I spent time in my ‘favorite room’ of the house. A nightly reminder to pray for church at 10pm plus leading a weekly zoom call to pray for college students.

HIPEC was the most painful bath I’ve had, cutting through layers of abdominal muscles for it. But it was worth it as I heard later the desired words “No visible signs of cancer”. Not quite the “No Evidence of Disease” I hoped for as the threat of recurrence continued with the rogue cancer cells that may have avoided the bath. But for now, even 6 months after surgery, all clear.

While I don’t hope to need the HIPEC bath again, I am so thankful that it exists and this 250K surgery is covered by my insurance in full. While I would have loved to have skipped this precision medicine experience, I am thankful for those that went before me providing the evidence that it works. Now I just have to remember that I’m not the 70-year-old male that most HIPEC data is done on. I’m a front runner in the early onset colon cancer community and my experience will be unique. Now onto the baptism experience, one that does not need repeating but was a much more positive experience.

Choosing to get baptized in the Baptist faith is an outward expression that you have chosen to follow God. It’s not a requirement to go to heaven but is done in front of your church as a joint commitment to follow God in His community. While I accepted Christ as my Savior when I was closer to 8, I decided at 10 that I was ready for the public stand. The next baptism day was on my 11th birthday and my whole family decided to get baptized that day as well. It was a bath representing the cleansing of all my sin as I went under the water and my pastor brought me directly back up. Just as Jesus himself was baptized and his disciples baptized others. While the bath was easy to cross off my list, it reminds me daily of my decision to follow Christ. With each action and word, I aim to represent who God is, loving Him and his creation.

This might seem like a tough challenge and it’s not possible to live a sinless life. But I learned in the tough times that God shows up. He gave me peace in this cancer journey even as my whole world was rocked off balance. I chose early to let others in, willing to accept their help and prayers. The more I hear from my peers with cancer, the more I see this as uncommon. Too many lack strong support networks, with families and friends not able or willing to be present, without a church community so isolated in the journey. Even when they find online networks, the practical hands on help isn’t there. I knew God calls us to serve others and I was able to realize that this time I was the one needing to help in physical ways. I kept volunteering and helping on a limited basis where I could during this journey, waking up from a sleep weekend to go to church and lead the youth group, but willingly accepted the prayers and encouragement from others. My restful naps got longer, giving me peace. I participated in yoga to calmly stretch my body and connect through prayer to God. I trusted in the fact that if I died, I would be in heaven with no pain or suffering. I also felt like I wasn’t done on this earth yet. Either way, I knew I could honor God. I invited Him into all aspects of my life, including my showers as I listened to the Bible App. He in turn, provided me what I needed most through this cancer journey: a reminder of His peace in the suffering.

While the baptism represents the cleansing of my soul, the HIPEC surgery is a reminder of how my physical body also needed cleansing. Both aren’t one and done. They require constant attention towards becoming the person I’m supposed to be with renewed body and mind. They may take up less and less of my energy as time goes on, but their effects won’t go away.

Now off to take a shower which plenty of evidence shows benefits the body. And to counteract my negative perception of it, maybe I’ll invite two of my little pets to join.