It occurred to me this morning that in preparation for the colonoscopy I have later today that I have given myself a small–and I mean very small–taste of what it is like to have an advanced case of Carcinoid Syndrome.

Since yesterday afternoon I have had constant diarrhea as the laxatives set in to cleanse my bowel to get ready for the test. I am dehydrated. I did not sleep well. And likely in the middle of writing this I will need to get up and make another dash to the bathroom. I have not been keeping track, but I would guess I have had at least eight bowel movements in the last 16 hours.

It is uncomfortable, to say the least.

Jane faced day after day of this. All carcinoid patients do. But the dehydration, diarrhea, and sleeplessness are just the tip of the iceberg.

Jane was giving herself four injections a day. Her legs were so swollen it was hard to bend her knees. Getting up and down stairs–once a thoughtless maneuver–became increasingly a long climb up a steep mountain.

While I tossed and turned last night, Jane spent many nights staring hopelessly at the ceiling, listening to the radio on her headphones, waiting for sleep that would never come.

I know that soon I will be able to get out of the house and away from the bathroom. But for Jane, the world kept shrinking: from the house and yard, to the house, to the upstairs, to her hospital room, to her bed in that hospital room. At the end she had so little strength she could no longer move her head.

Today reminds me how important it is that we do everything we can to find a cure for this disease as quickly as we can. There are too many people facing what Jane faced.

They need our financial support. They need our political support. But most of all, they need our emotional and spiritual support.