Cancer And Me Abbie Creed   © Copyright 2026 by Abbie Creed

Photo of the author.

It has always been one of the signs of cancer when you find blood in your stool. However, I had just purchased replacement windows, you know the kind that are advertised that a woman can easily clean with one hand. I wanted to test them out, so proceeded to follow directions and found that because I am short in stature, the operation was a little more difficult than I had expected. I strained quite a bit to return the window to its original setting. So, I thought perhaps because I had blood in my stool, I had ruptured a hemorrhoid.

Needing to check it out, I went to a rectal doctor. Since I had no family history of colon cancer and I only had one episode of blood, it more than likely was a hemorrhoid that I had strained in lifting the window. But that it did bare watching.

About six weeks later, I developed a horrific pain in my right side. Thinking that it was appendicitis, I went to the emergency room. A scan of my abdomen showed a mass in my left colon. I was ordered to see a surgeon. Panic is probably a good description of where I was mentally. I had been caring for my disabled husband for 22 years and he needed me. It is difficult to recall how distraught I was. Instead of heading home, I went straight to our family doctor who took such wonderful care of my husband all those years, because I knew that he would understand where I was coming from mentally.

Cleo, who was Dr. Bob’s nurse and my next-door neighbor, made it possible for me to see the doctor without waiting my turn. I remember running up to him in tears and saying, “This can’t be, I need to take care of Dan.” Dan had been wheelchair bound following two lengthy brain surgeries for multiple brain aneurysms. Somebody else caring for Dan was just plain out of the question in my mind. But the thought of the possibility that I might have cancer meant that I would die first. Even though it had not been mentioned, at that time, it seemed to me to be a death sentence.

Doctor Bob assured me that he had a wonderful surgeon for me to see, the same one who had operated on his uncle recently. He was able to get me an appointment that afternoon. So, I went directly to the surgeon’s office before going home. The drive there was agonizing. I imagined all sorts of outcomes and of course the worst one being cancer.

The surgeon was a delightful middle-aged man with wonderful bed-side manners. He promised to be honest with me, and he assured me that I was in good hands. He specialized in colon surgery. As I lay on his table for examination, I asked, “How many of this condition are malignant?” His reply was kind but blunt. “Almost all of them.” He went on to explain what the procedure entailed and the prep that I would need to do for the surgery. He didn’t waste any time scheduling it. He made the prep the day before surgery, so I didn’t have to prep twice, once for the colonoscopy and the other for the surgery.

I headed home with my newfound diagnosis and immediately planned for both Dan and me to be cared for. I needed five days of hospitalization and Dan needed overnight care. Mike moved in with his family and his special granddaughter, “Lillie Baby.” They knew Dan’s routine and Tony and Lindsay, who had walked home to our house during grade school days, knew grandpa’s games and where I hid his treats. Lillie “B” was a good distraction for me. That solved one problem.

My six adult children took over and relieved me of my fears. All except one. I did not want to be left alone in the hospital. I had heard too many negative stories about hospitals at that time. My good friend and neighbor nurse Cleo spent the first and fourth night with me. My sons took watches the other nights. I was very well cared for.

Before Surgery, my daughter had purchased a meditation tape for surgeries. I know that I listened to that tape repeatedly the nights before going to the hospital. One side of the tape was a talking meditation, and the other side was the background music that could be used during surgery. That tape was a godsend!

The morning of the surgery, I asked my doctor if they could play the music tape during surgery. He would not allow that because he felt it could be distracting for him. However, the anesthesiologist asked if I had headsets. My daughter said, “I have some in the car.” The surgeon waited for her to retrieve them before starting the surgery and in passing my gurney he made the Sign of the Cross on my forehead. I am Catholic so that meant the world to me and certainly eased my mind. The next thing I remember was waking up in the recovery room.

The next four days were spent changing family shifts, visitors from church, and walking through the halls. The food wasn’t too bad either and I had a vigorous appetite. However, the news that I might have to have chemo was disappointing. I was diagnosed with stage 3 colon cancer which meant that it had come outside the colon. It had metastasized to a clump of lymph nodes. Though the doctor had cleared seven of them, he felt chemo may be necessary.

Coming home was a blessing for all of us. I was so thankful to be home, Dan was so glad to see me. My kids and grandkids visited often, and I spent much of those next weeks playing with the baby and pampering myself. I was not looking forward to my visit to the oncologist but did have a plan mapped out.

I have always been an advocate for natural medicine and have visited Foxhollow where Dr. Johnson practiced as a D.O. I made an appointment with him to see what they had to offer cancer patients. He was adamant that I have the chemo since colon cancer is serious stuff. He sent me to a doctor friend who was doing research on colon cancer. He explained his findings and gave me some options. However, the choice for my treatments was left up to me.

After getting all that information and how Dr. Johnson could help, I went to an ex-student who I taught many years ago and who had become the youngest oncologist at Baptist Health Cancer center. He was wonderful in explaining the procedure used for colon cancer. There would be 18 treatments divided into segments of 6 weeks. There would be treatment each Monday with two weeks off in between each segment.

My experience sitting in an office with many other cancer patients waiting for my name to be announced to the world that I had cancer, was not a pleasant one to say the least. However, that was a piece of cake compared to my next location. It was like a ward filled with people sitting in a comfortable chair and next to the chair was a post on rollers that held the bottles of fluid with a plastic hose attached. The hose led to the needle in the patients’ hands or to a port inserted in their necks. Nothing can prepare you for this. You have to experience it to get the picture. The thought of me being one of them was frightening but I was determined I could handle it. Some of the patients greeted me while others just smiled and continued reading their books. They knew what I was about to experience. My daughter Kathy stayed with me and kept my mind off what was about to happen. She knew how afraid of needles I had always been.

The nurses were wonderful and with the greatest professional expertise got me started on my 18-week journey of Chemo. I think my treatment lasted about two hours. The nurses checked frequently to be sure I was feeling ok and if I needed anything. I had been told to bring snacks to my liking. Drinks were on the house.

With the first treatment under my belt and a smile on my face, we headed home to tell the family about my experience. After that first visit, I was confident that I could overcome my fears and handle this procedure with ease. But after several treatments I began to break out all over my body making it necessary to reduce the strength of the chemo. The breaking out was gone during my two-week break and the reduced treatment.

The next segment of treatments brought a far different problem, that of diarrhea. When I called the nurse for help, she prescribed Imodium. After taking a whole box of that stuff, the diarrhea didn’t improve, it just got worse. My oncologist had given me his home phone number and told me to call any time that I needed him, day or night. When my husband Dan called Kathy and said, “Your mother needs you “at one in the morning, I knew it was time to make that phone call to the doctor. He called an all-night drug store and ordered Paregoric. I used that on my babies’ gums when they were teething, but it was now a scheduled drug. It proved to be a real blessing. Two doses stopped the diarrhea in its tracks but led to a trip to the cancer center for a bag of fluid to treat dehydration.

I still had two treatments left in that segment and an additional six to complete the 18 series. There is nothing in this world like chemo diarrhea. I seriously considered stopping chemo treatments. I visited Dr. Johnson at Foxhollow, and he convinced me that I should continue the treatments as planned because colon cancer is beyond serious. He assured me that if my oncologist would allow it, he could make it possible for me to continue treatments without those side effects. My oncologist agreed with his protocol, and I took those treatments as well.

Each Friday, before the Monday chemo, I went to Foxhollow to get a bag of fluid containing high potency vitamins along with several homeopathics to support my intestinal lining. Again, this was administered intravenously. My fear of needles was fast disappearing!

After my chemo treatments I had a Lymphatic Message lasting about one hour to speed the chemo through my system. After chemo had done its job, it was sent by my body to my liver to get rid of it. Another part of Dr. Johnson’s protocol included Endeba treatments. They were done over my liver for 20 minutes using a wand like the one they use for mother’s ultrasounds. The purpose for Endeba was to get rid of the chemo from my liver.

During this time, I was either driving twice a week to Foxhollow or Kathy was taking me. One day for pre-chemo treatments and the other for after Chemo treatments. Dan loved it all. He enjoyed going to Foxhollow where he was free to roam, read magazines, watch TV or sit on the porch watching the birds while I was being treated. We made many new friends there.

When I finished my 18 Chemo treatments at the Cancer Center, Dr. Johnson had me begin a two-year treatment with Iscador. Iscador was a cancer treatment that has been used in Germany since 1936. It is the main protocol in some countries. It is made from Mistletoe. My cancer required it to come from the oak tree, but other types of cancer use other trees. I gave myself a shot in my belly twice a week for two years. That was always a big deal. I had to psych myself up every time to do this, for the whole two years!

Dan was my support and cheerleader through all my ordeal. I had been teaching school until I was diagnosed with cancer. I retired from teaching and being Coordinator of Religious Education after 34 years at St. Raphael but not from being active in the community. I continued to volunteer my services both at school and in the parish.

Dan and I had three years living in retirement before he died. We enjoyed days out eating lunch at Brown Park, shopping at the Mall, monthly Birthday celebrations either on the deck or in cold weather in the house. When I wrote the story about his health challenge, The Diary of a Survivor, he enjoyed critiquing each page as I wrote it, often saying, “Did I really do that?” He especially enjoyed taking a copy of his book to Dr. Marshall, his surgeon, and giving it to family and friends.

As I finish this story by October the 8^th, the day I was diagnosed, I become a very blessed twenty-three-year cancer survivor. I have come a long way, learning many lessons. One special lesson is that a diagnosis is not a death sentence. I learned that God is alive and active in our lives, that miracles happen today and that angels really exist. I am so very thankful to my loving and caring family, my church, my “Prayer Warriors,” and my many friends who all give me reasons for celebrating today!