Surviving colon cancer

I had been constipated for three days and started throwing up bile. I was rushed to the hospital and I had 18 inches of my colon removed. In my day, when you heard the word "cancer," it meant death. So after the surgery, I just gave up. I didn't eat. I wouldn't get up and walk. I just laid there waiting for the grim reaper to come and get me. My wife was very upset with me.

One day, she gave me a real chewing out. She asked me if I was tired of living with her, if I'd rather die than come home to her. She made me feel awful. So I agreed to try to get better. At first she fed me until I was strong enough to manage it for myself. She's walk up and down the hallway with me to make sure I got my exercise. When I got home, she made me do a little bit more for myself every day. She refused to let me wallow.

In a month or so, I was well enough to go back to work. And after that, I became the expert on colon cancer. On my five-year check up, my doctor told me I had a better chance of dying in childbirth than of dying from cancer.