Published The Advocate, August 27, 2005


ORDINARILY I do not go around telling people I had bowel cancer in 1989 because if you tell one person the next thing everyone will want one. The local GP’s first guess was I had alcoholic enteritis – not a bad diagnosis at the time – and he made me not have a drink for a week to see what happened. Nothing changed. A waste of a week’s drinking. Next came a barium enema, after which I really needed a drink. The scan showed a tumour the size of an apple. One thing led rapidly to another and soon I was in hospital being given a pre-op pubic shave. Let’s leave it there, shall we? The point is, when it comes to bowel cancer if nothing else, I can speak with some authority. So I was astonished to read recently in The Advocate of the Coastal family who was lining up to have their bowels removed on the basis of a DNA tag showing they carried the bowel cancer gene. It begs the question: If the tag is found, at what age do you have your bowel removed? In olden days, people used to have all their teeth extracted and replaced with dentures as a 21st birthday present. I somehow doubt a coming-of-age colorectomy is going to catch on in the same way. When I had cancer, not everyone thought I’d pull through. People sent me get-well cards containing messages of sympathy. A female visitor, startled by the tubes coming out of every orifice, actually blurted: "Are you going to live?" Yes, I am pleased to report, and thanks for the nudging reminder of my own mortality. Because I survived, a friend asked me to offer reassuring words to his mother who also had bowel cancer and was scared. She was dead within a month. I am still here. The luck of a very dodgy draw. Having cancer has made no difference to my life apart from the rather fetching zipper mark now on my torso and having to undergo a colonoscopy every two years. My kids, too, are being screened thanks to me. My daughter had her first colonoscopy a few months ago and my son will be lining up for his first next year. They are not grateful. Which brings me back to the DNA test. I have no idea if I carry the bowel cancer gene, or whether my kids have it. It makes no difference to me now but had the tag been found 20 years ago, I would not have rushed in for an early disembowelling in anticipation of getting cancer later. Instead, I would have demanded frequent colonoscopies, every month if needs be, to detect the rogue polyp that eventually mutated into cancer inside me. A polyp can be nipped in the bud. I am having my next colonoscopy next month. Can hardly wait.