First of all I want to thank everyone who sent comments on my first blog. It took several days for me to figure out how to post my responses, but we should be good going forward.

Colon Problems -- Chapter Two

In my first blog I talked about turning 50. For those of you around my age you probably remember the old TV show called Mission Impossible. Tom Cruise made it into three successful movies. On TV each week, the character Jim Phelps would go to some bucolic location where he would pull a manila envelope from behind a rock or cabinet. It held a small cassette tape and player, and a dossier complete with pictures. This information would outline Jim’s critical and dangerous mission.

Luckily for Jim, he had options and, like skills, options are very desirable. Every week the message on the recorder began,“Jim, your mission, should you choose to accept it ... ”

That’s a line that wasn’t part of my doctor’s delivery when he told me that I have cancer. There was no, “if you choose to accept it." There was no option to choose this "mission" because it was assigned by the giver of cancer -- and when you hear that the implication is that you are now involved in a mission on which your life may depend. Heavy stuff.

Like Jim Phelps did each week, I have accepted this mission -- but, gosh darn it, I have a million questions and over the weeks, as part of this blog, I’ll talk about some of those questions and answers. That’s an option that Mr. Phelps didn’t have.

Here’s a question that I never would have thought of before being diagnosed: How do you tell everyone? The doctor’s office didn’t have a pamphlet for this one. It might have been nice to have a name tag with something on point but light hearted: Hi, I’m Clint and I have cancer. Have a nice day!

Or maybe a canned message to put on my answering machine: you’ve reached the voice mail of Clint Bramlett. Even though I have cancer, I’m not here right now so please leave a message with the date and time you called -- as well as any home grown remedies you might suggest.

Perhaps in casual conversation I could use a simple segue: "Did you watch ER the other night? It was the one where the handsome guy was only 50 and Dr. Green had to break it to him that he has colon cancer. At least the doctor promised he would help with his voice mail."

The truth is, you want to tell everyone -- at least I did -- but I didn’t want make anyone feel bad for me. (Though I have to admit: cancer is the big “one-upper” when it comes to conversation. Since being diagnosed, I can always reference the cancer and steer the conversation away from any topic about which I’m not interested. I’m sure one of these days I’ll get my come uppance when I unknowingly have a conversation with an ALS patient. As for playing up the "sick card" at home to get special treatment from my wife and daughter, they aren’t buying it. That’s good; it helps keep me grounded.)

The approach a close friend of mine used in 2006 seemed to work well. He sent friends and family an email telling them he had been diagnosed with cancer. He was beginning treatment soon and his prognosis was very good. He didn't want fancy gifts and such but looked forward to getting well, getting things back to normal, and being with his family and friends. He got well and is back better than ever.

I thought the email approach was a grand way to tell his friends he was ill and that he expected to recover. I liked the idea so much that I stole it. I sent an announcement to friends and extended family.

Now, if you think I told my Mom back in Alabama that I have cancer via email, you are kidding yourself. That would go over like Britney Spears performing gospel songs at a prayer meeting - the music’s great but the outfits just don’t work. I decided that Mom and Dad and my three brothers would each receive a phone call before the email went out.

I also have a circle of very close friends that I began to call -- but after two calls I realized my friends needed to receive the email and I could then wait for their responses. Otherwise, I would have been on the phone for hours.

I went to my office to advise my boss of my predicament. After that, I asked our human resources guru to forward the email that went to friends and family to my co-workers. All in all, the email approach was very efficient and effective. It announced my cancer and provided an avenue for anyone who wanted to communicate with me to simply respond to the email.

Now, everyone knows. What next? Oh yeah: treatment and beating this thing.