Wow. Talk about role reversal. For so long, I have been playing the role of patient and Bruce has been my care partner. And he has been a damn good one. Through surgeries, multiple diagnoses, relapses… all of it. He has been my rock at every single moment.

Here we are ringing the gong signaling the end of my treatment for breast cancer. I can’t wait until it’s his turn.

Within 2 weeks of finally having the most magical, much anticipated, twice-postponed (thank you, Covid!) wedding of our dreams, Bruce woke up one morning feeling some discomfort in his lower abdomen. I have never been so happy that he has a tendency towards hypochondria!

Me and Bruce on the most beautiful day, not realizing then what was in store for us.

After several weeks of doctor appointments, procedures, and tests, we found out to our utter disbelief that Bruce has stage 4 colon cancer with metastasis to the peritoneal lining of the abdomen.

We were reeling. How could this happen when at the very first sign of anything wrong, he went to get checked out and we were already at stage 4? And while with everything I have been/still go through, I never once asked why me. It’s not in my genetic makeup to do that. But I ask myself every single day why Bruce.

He bought a similar support T-shirt when I was diagnosed with breast cancer, so I did the same for him.

He is a humble man, a devoted and loving husband, and everyone loves him. It seems so unfair, and if I could take this away from him and have it myself, I would do it in a hot second.

To make matters worse, as all these tests and procedures were happening, we were given the gift that keeps on giving (COVID) by our 7 year old nephew. When it rains, it pours!

The doctors have told us that he is not considered curable but he is considered treatable. Having gone for a 2nd opinion at U Penn in Philadelphia, the oncologist who specializes in colorectal cancers even said that “remission” is not feasible. These are words that cut us deeply, but at the end of the day, it’s just semantics. We are not focusing on the words, but rather how he responds to and tolerates treatment.

This was taken after the very first chemotherapy day, when Bruce’s mom and brother came to show support.

So now I find myself in this role reversal where he is the patient, and I, with all my medical issues, have become the care partner. I thought we would have some adjustment issues, but it has been quite seamless. I realize I can do anything where it comes to Bruce, because it comes from my heart, and he is my world. My body does what it needs to when he needs me, and it rests when he doesn’t.

We use walkie talkies to communicate when he is down for the count on chemo weeks.

He has discovered what I found out long ago. We are so much stronger than we think we are, and we learn it only when we are called upon to use our inner strength. I could not be more proud of Bruce’s determination and tenacity. What he is going through is ugly. Yet he is doing what he has to do, with (almost) no complaining, and the kind of resilience we should all aspire to.

I love this guy so frigging much…. bald face or not!

So why am I sharing this diagnosis with you, my loyal readers? I know I have been inconsistent with my blog since COVID, mostly because what can I write about when I am staying at home and not doing much that would inspire a blog entry? But this… this is serious. Many people do not know that the age for screening colonoscopies was lowered to age 45 in the last year, mostly because doctors’ offices are so backlogged due to the pandemic. I learned this first hand when my annual physical happened in March (usually in December but that was the first availability), and was given the name of the GI group they refer to for colonoscopies (because I turned 50). When I called the office in March, I was given an August appointment, the first available, for the consultation necessary before the actual procedure.

A chemo picture… because you do not want to go through what Bruce is enduring right now.

There is a reason the age was lowered, so I am begging you to please take care of all your preventative care. That’s why Bruce decided to share his story on Facebook. Early detection is the key (as I learned through my battle with breast cancer), and having one illness (like MS) does not preclude you from getting others.

Life is precious and fleeting. We are given this one body to inhabit during our lifetime, and it is imperative to care for it like the amazing gift that it is. If not for yourself, do it for those who love you, because otherwise they are left feeling helpless and distraught.

Team Rankin never loses.

I know now how Bruce has always felt where it comes to me… unable to do much but stay strong by his side, tell him how proud I am of him, how much he inspires me, what a bad ass he is, and how I love him with my whole heart. These might seem like small gestures, but in the grand scheme of things, it’s what I can offer, and it makes him feel stronger.

I tell him every day that I am proud of him, that he is a bad ass, that he inspires me, and that I love him.

So be sure to tell your loved ones how special they are, how much they mean to you, and hug them extra long and extra hard. Things can change in the blink of an eye. Trust me. It’s not our first time at the rodeo, and we have learned this lesson well. Don’t wait for the rodeo to do it. Do it now.

Also, if you are 45 or older, please get your colonoscopies. Just a PSA from Team Rankin.

A gift from my family… and we cant wait to smash the crap out of it at some point.