—UPDATE BELOW POST—
This is going to be a no frills post. No pics, just rambling. Lots has happened and I just want to get it out there.
I know this is personal and not really something a lot of people can or will share. But I want to keep true to my trying to keep this blog as a diary of sorts. I mean, journal. Journals are cooler.
I like to try and keep it as fun and positive as possible around here as I can. But honestly, the past few weeks have been so ridiculously hard to stay positive. Right now is better. But still plenty of road ahead to travel before normal.
On August 6th, I had my first colonoscopy. It’s something I wanted to get because I was having some issues that I couldn’t pinpoint how long they’ve been going on. But it was to the point where I was freaking myself out that maybe I had something serious going on. Both the wife and I agreed that it’s probably not something serious. I’ve had no pain, no sudden unexplained weight loss, and my symptoms could have easily been numerous other things.
But we quickly and rather abruptly learned it’s pretty serious. Something is in me that shouldn’t be, and it’s been a fear of mine for as long as I could remember.
I was groggy from the anesthesia still. Not even able to unlock my phone properly. And I hear the doctor in the next room telling that patient he has polyps and how he needs to get them removed. I remember thinking to myself that’s what I thought I have and that he’ll probably tell me the same thing. So when he came into the room and blurted out what he did, I couldn’t gather myself to even form a sentence. “Hey, so we found some cancer, you’re going to have to meet with a surgeon soon.”
I had to tell him wait, as I motioned for him to get closer. He wouldn’t, partly because he seemed too busy to linger with one patient, but mostly because damn covid and me not having my mask on. Remember, I’m still groggy from waking up. He told me it again, and still, that time wasn’t any clearer than the first. I felt like I was in an echo chamber and all I can hear was that one word I feared for so long. I couldn’t believe it. I felt like it has to be wrong, you know, the way everyone else would react. He left and I was there alone with my thoughts. I thought there was no worse way to find out about the worst news you’ve heard your entire life.
Then my wife walked in and the million things I haven’t done with my family flashed before my eyes. She came in with the nurse and I told her to sit down. The nurse began explaining and doing everything the doctor should’ve done. He was the light in this darkness, telling me that there’s nothing known yet. To get the ball rolling on tests and meet with the surgeon, and start eating better because everything will help. My wife and I there, holding each other. Our three kids in the car with my mom, and we’re trying to collect ourselves enough to make it outside to them.
We met with the surgeon the next day after fighting for the earliest appointment. Within 2 days we had every test done that he wanted us to have. Blood work, CT scan, MRI. I didn’t want to sit around and wait. I couldn’t. There was no way I couldn’t sit at home doing nothing about this. Besides the fact that I couldn’t do anything. Like I was mentally, and emotionally exhausted. I wasn’t eating because I wasn’t hungry. I couldn’t sleep because all I could think of was how nothing will be the same for anyone in my family. It was hell waiting for the results.
But when we got all the results back, one huge weight was lifted. They found out that it’s early. That it’s still contained to the one area it was found in. There are other tests that can be done to confirm it. But with all the scans that were done, what the doc saw, he’s able to say that it’s the most favorable outcome you could ask for in this situation. It’s something that a surgery will most likely be able to remove it, and there’s a possibility of not needing to do chemo or radiation. Details are still up in the air, we find out for sure what the plan will be this coming Wednesday. But at that point, this was news that my wife and I couldn’t stop hugging over.
It’s win for sure. But the war isn’t over. There’s a long road to travel till this can be another chapter in my life. But thank God that so far, it seems like I’ll be able to look back on it at some point. For a while there, I couldn’t think past the moment I was in. I sat and thought and thought and thought the worst thoughts. I was trying to think ahead, but only what would I do if I was told the worst. And a lot of it involved this blog. I thought about writing years and years of messages and milestone thoughts to my kids and setting them to post at those times. It was definitely some of the darkest moments I’ve ever had in my mind. And I thank God that it doesn’t seem like I have to do anything that sad.
I also have to thank all my friends and family who thought about me and prayed for me. I came out with everything on my discord and wanted to be clear with it there. The response was heartwarming and really reminded me that even though you’ve never met people before, it doesn’t mean they’re not your friends that you care about. They helped me to not only believe in their friendship, but also gave me a new faith in God and prayer.
Also, since I’m thanking. My wife has been such a rock in these times. She’s doing everything everywhere it seems and trying her best to make sure I’m ok and not stressed. There’s no way I would’ve been able to physically or mentally get through anything that first week if it wasn’t for her and her strength. We helped each other get through the bombshell that went off over us and it’s something that has brought us together on so many levels compared to anything else that has happened in our lives. Hopefully she knows how much she means to me and how much what she does means to me.
Well I’ll stop here. I’ll update as updates come. I hate being cryptic and I may have been cryptic in a tweet or two. But I didn’t want to just tweet out what happened. Like I said, this blog has been a part of me for over 10 years. It’s something that I would like to think that my kids will look back on to read and remember times.
If there’s one thing this taught me, it’s that life is fragile, short, and comes at you fast with no warning. Let this be a warning for others. An advisory. If you’re feeling like something is wrong or different or not right, get to the doctor. Get checked out. Don’t be scared of looking stupid. Don’t be scared of a medical bill. Get out there and make sure what’s going on isn’t serious. I almost wrote off my issue as something not serious because like I said, I had no pain, no crazy symptoms, no family history, the signs didn’t point to where I’m at now. But I’m here. Here hoping the optimism from the doctor is well warranted and I’m able to look back at this.
It also taught me just how much my family means to me. It sounds horrible, I know. But especially now with a baby in the house, the motions are gone through every day, and it’s easy to get lost in them. It’s easy to forget how humans need much more interaction, despite how much they love to sit in front of a screen having fun. Not too long ago, I felt overwhelmed with a lot. I’m no stranger to feeling like I’m inadequate and not needed. Being a stay-at-home dad has its perks but they come with a price. It’s always, always been hard for me to sit around not doing anything to help with things financially. It’s difficult to sit and watch my wife work her job and then working on call hours so we can all have this blessed life we have. I take care of the kids, try so so so so hard to keep the house clean, try to have dinner ready at a decent time, and try to do whatever else needs to be done around here. But the motions. The motions are dangerous and you can get lost in them. You can forget about basic things like family movie time or just sitting there to listen to wacky kid explanations. Since this happened and came to light, the kids have been both camping out in our room. We all hang out in the bed after getting ready early so we can watch TV together. I’ve been holding everyone a lot closer and a lot more often. It’s something that I feel like we’ve all needed. And I hope that everything works itself out so we can continue doing it with no clouds hanging over our heads.
I feel better now. Better than what I felt the first week. I can sleep without waking up numerous times a night hoping it’s all just a nightmare. And I know there are many who never get out of that nightmare. I know how lucky I am so far and know that I should count my blessings. But there is still uneasiness. There’s still fear and worry. I feel as if I can’t trust my body anymore. But hopefully I can try to help it now. Try to get it fixed and then take care of it better so this doesn’t happen again. I definitely am taking things seriously now with eating better. Consider it the first step in trying to get through this and come out of it so I can watch my kids grow up and be there for them.
UPDATE – SEPTEMBER 1, 2020:
SO. A lot has happened these past few weeks. To pick up where I left off, we met with the doctor on Wednesday and confirmed a surgery date that following Monday. A laparoscopic lower anterior resection, to be specific, if you want to google that sort of thing. At this point it felt like I was put into one of those air chutes and just zoomed about everything. In a few days I had to mentally prepare for what would be the biggest surgery of my life. Not only that, recovery time was at minimum 4 days. So that meant on top of the huge surgery, I also had to be away from my family for most of the week.
It was definitely one of the hardest things we’ve been through as a family. My trials began the day before the surgery when I had to clear out my system and was given this 10 gallon jug of laxative that I had to mix with water and drink it completely. I was told to try it with Gatorade instead as the flavor and electrolytes would help. Turns out it also helped me to make sure I never drink Gatorade again. I tweeted it was exactly like in Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince where Dumbledore had to drink the poison. It was not fun.
But that, the surgery, and the recovery away from family. All the stress and the pain and the sleepless nights. It all came down to getting that evil inside me removed. The doctor was confident and I was scared for so many reasons, but knew ultimately it had to be done and was looking forward to overcoming this crazy bump in the road. Ha. Bump in the road. More like “the bridge is out ahead” of the road.
And the surgery went splendidly. Docs said everything was textbook with no issues and it all was removed. The 5 days in the hospital weren’t fun, but it came with the surgery. I hate hospitals. I can’t stand being in them even for visiting. On the last day I realized I hadn’t left the little room I was in at all the entire time. Glad that didn’t occur to me before because I probably would’ve lost it. But by the time I was being discharged I was ready to go home. Sure you have the doubts in your head like, can I really go home safely? What if..?! But my wife being the awesome wife and nurse she is, I was in good hands.
I’m feeling ok today. Still taking it easy as to not hurt the incision area. And still scared. That fear will probably never subside. We still have to meet with the surgeon on 9/9 to see what came back from pathology. So hopefully it’s not anything crazy and I’ll be clear of having to do anything else serious. I would do whatever needs to be done, don’t get me wrong. I’m beyond thankful this is the road that I was chosen to walk down. I know it could’ve been a lot darker and.. shorter. So here’s to hoping the sun stays shining on me and my journey on this road of mine.
UPDATE – SEPTEMBER 10, 2020:
Met with the surgeon and he was very happy with everything! Everything is going smooth with recovery and pathology came back clean as a whistle. They took 40 some odd lymph nodes from the areas where anything would have spread first and every one came back negative for anything. It was caught so early and I don’t think I’ll ever not be shocked by how lucky I am. I’ll be keeping up with him every few months for standard check ups but he’s not too concerned. I have an appointment with oncology in October. Again, standard protocol in this situation. So I look forward to speaking with him about everything.
UPDATE – OCTOBER 7, 2020:
Met with oncologist yesterday. It’s been well over a month since everything happened but being in the cancer center brought everything back full force. All the sadness and uncertainty despite being cleared loomed on me as I walked down the halls past others who awaited different fates. Mostly elderly people. I was easily the youngest there. I can only imagine what was being thought of me.
The first thing the doctor told me before the door even closed behind him was “you’re too young to have cancer.” I told him that’s what I hear. He congratulated me on having it removed and being cured. I explained that even though I’m told I am cured and it’s gone, there’s a huge part of me that can’t get there mentally. I can’t wrap my head around the thought of it being over. I oversaturated my brain so much with all the thoughts that came with being diagnosed, that it feels wrong to think happily again. I explained that I can’t say I’m cured. I can’t call myself a survivor. I have a guilt in me that makes it difficult to see myself in that light.
He told me it was completely normal. It’s something that everyone in the position feels. It’s from the traumatic experience of finding out and living with that. That’s when he explained to me some details regarding my cure. I’ve heard it said to me but never explained to me. And coming from him, my oncologist, it carried more weight in my head.
He said with the type of cancer I had, with it being stage I, so confined to one section, and then having it removed, it won’t come back. I wasn’t sure if I heard him right and I think he knew that. He repeated, it’s not going to come back, then continued, that if he had to put a number on it, there is barely a 1% chance that it would come back. He took blood work to verify, and has me coming back in a few months to do some more scans just to continue to monitor. But he was also certain that it was finished. Not only that, the blood work came back and whatever level markers that were up that indicated cancer were at normal levels. So many things point to the sun in the sky shining on me on these new days of mine. I’ll always feel the way I do about being called a survivor, but I decided to take the win here and finally, and most importantly, happily, move on with this all behind us.
UPDATE – APRIL 12, 2021:
Dear diar—I mean.. Sup, journal. I guess to close out the updates here with most up to date it could be. I put the blog on the back burner and realized I didn’t even finish my last update here from October. It’s ok though. It’s been 6 months and still no word, I don’t deserve it?! I know you got my last two letters, I wrote the addresses on them perfect!….. Sorry, unexpected Eminem, sometimes it just comes out, ya know? Anyway. It’s been 6 months and I’m almost certain no one has been here and seen the October update stop mid sentence. So we’ll just pretend it was there all along.
Update time. I’m doing ok. Doc’s have done a few routine check ups on me in the form of scans and such and all seems good. I did a gene test that goes into ridiculous detail about what mutations are more possible to show their ugly heads for not only me, but my kids. I have a few more weeks before I head over to the Oncologist and discuss those results. But he’s had them for a while now and hasn’t said anything is urgent so I feel ok there. I also got a colonoscopy done in December! Not many people are excited for such things but I’m telling you, I will push the importance of getting one to everyone who will hear it. I was very on edge for it because the cancer was so close to the entrance of the last colonoscopy, it wasn’t completed. So finally they were going to go the full monty. Which meant there was possibility of something else being found. But no, my luck and blessings continued because nothing was found, thank God.
So here we are. April 2021. Lots has happened since the last update. New president, numerous vaccines for COVID that is currently being administered to the masses. Wife and I have gotten our first dose as of this writing so here’s to hoping the world doesn’t turn into zombies. I say that half joking and half utterly terrified, you have no idea. I’m going to try and get this blog back up and going like an old classic car. Not a popular one. You know, that old classic car that means so much to you but no one would really consider it classic by any means. So look for more updates there. Until then. Thank you. Thank you for reading up to this point, whoever you are. Probably my wife. Maybe my kids as they get old enough to surf the web without parental controls. Thank you and I hope life is good and kind and continues to be good for everyone.
You’ve been my tick for so many things, and now it’s my turn to be in that role. Love you ❤️❤️❤️
Tick…what in the world. ROCK. You’ve been my ROCK 🤦♀️😘
Your tick or your rock. I’ll be whatever you want. Thank you, love. <3
Cancer is no joke and I’m glad you got there best news in a crappy situation (see what I did there?). I’m also thankful that you paid attention to your body.
I’ve had two colonoscopies and get to have another every 5 years for the rest of my life. My bio dad passed when I was three from colon cancer. He didn’t pay attention to his body. He just brushed it off and eventually went in, but by then it was too late, they didn’t even do surgery.
Keep telling people your experiences, that helps a lot. Not just you, but us too. Take care of yourself and your fantastic family. You and yours are in our thoughts and prayers, my friend.
I know it’s been a while. Haha. But I’m replying now. I read this back when you posted it, but forgot to reply because I’m horrible. Anyway, thank you for the kind words. I’m sorry about your dad. It’s good you’re staying on top of it though. I know with my kids I’m going to be on top of them getting to go get checked out the minute they’re able to. I hope to be the voice in someone’s head to go get checked out or to take care of themselves. I was extremely lucky and I can’t even dwell on that thought because I couldn’t imagine if I didn’t go in to get checked. Thanks, Chris! Hope all is well.