The day I found out I have cancer
Dear Friends and Family,
A couple of weeks ago, I received the devastating news that I wasn’t prepared to hear: I have cancer.
I knew something was wrong when I started feeling out of the ordinary. I started noticing things like stomach cramping and going to the bathroom more often than normal. At first, I was in denial but the symptoms seem to be compounding & soon it was hard to ignore things like small but regular bleeding, abdominal discomfort and aches, and fatigue. Could it be just hemorrhoids? Colitis? Ulcer? What’s going on?
Discomfort soon turned into throbbing pain in my tailbone & pelvic area, more cramping, & more disruptive trips to the bathroom. Pretty soon, it was hard to stay focused at work or at home. One day, I had to cut work short because of a sudden ringing in my ears & lightheadedness. My body was screaming at me to do something!
Concerned, I alerted the doctors who quickly recommended we switch a previously scheduled sigmoidoscopy into a full-blown colonoscopy. Immediately after the procedure, the Gastroenterologist notified us what I had feared all along. They found a tumor in me. It’s cancer.
I was in shock.
My wife & I were in shock but we still held out hope that perhaps the tumor is benign, that maybe it’s in the early stages. The biopsy revealed it was malignant. It was clear it was no longer in the early stages. The CT Scan also revealed possible lymph node involvement, something you don’t want to hear when it comes to cancer. The pain and discomfort were also progressing, stinging from my tailbone, lower back, groin area, prostate, and even radiating beyond, enough that I wasn’t getting much sleep. Consequent tests through MRI made it official: I have Stage 3 Rectal Cancer (Adenocarcinoma) with Lymph Node involvement.
While cancer survivability stats vary, the later the staging and the more symptoms one experiences, the odds of survivability goes down and it’s a race against time.
I’m not going to lie; I was scared.
It’s as if my life suddenly turned upside down made even more sinister by a recent cancer death in the family.
On top of all this, we got caught in the reality of the healthcare bureaucracy that threatened to delay and jeopardize my immediate treatment. On several occasions, my wife & I broke down in tears & hugged each other. Time was ticking. It felt like time was going slow and fast at the same time. All I could see were my kids who, at their very young age, were now faced with the real possibility of losing their father to cancer.
Am I going to survive this? How much time do I have left? I am not ready to leave my kids and family yet. They need me. I’m supposed to be the one helping them, not the other way around. This cannot be happening!
I never thought I would become part of the statistic.
My doctors mentioned that I am relatively healthy, don’t smoke, don’t drink, but none of that mattered. It doesn’t seem fair but cancer isn’t fair. Cancer is often just luck of the draw and it’s something I have no absolute control over. They mentioned it’s possible I might’ve had this for years and not know about it.
All of sudden, long life is no longer a guarantee. It felt like a bad dream and I wanted to wake up.
Until now, we’ve kept it a secret from many folks but I know people are starting to wonder. To this day, my kids are oblivious & I want to make sure they are shielded from this. Some days, it was hard to hide the often uncontrollable tears as I hugged them.
“Dada, what’s wrong? Wanna play?”, my 3-year-old son asked me one day as I laid on the couch.
“Sorry, Dada can’t play right now. Dada’s tummy is sick.”
He then snuggled with me, lifted my shirt, and kissed my stomach. “There, all better.”
If only it were that easy, kid. I wish it was that easy but that will do.
Needless to say, there was a lot of bonding going on. When not having to deal with the discomfort, fatigue, and the healthcare system, I just wanted to spend as much time with my kids and family and make as many memories as possible with whatever time I have left.
When faced with your mortality, your priorities and perspective change. You focus on the ones you love.
Suddenly, every breath of air I inhale smell sweeter and felt more precious. My sensations were amplified. The rustling leaves sounded louder, the subtle breeze felt stronger, the sun warmer. I heard strangers complain about the most mundane things and realize how irrelevant those problems were. I am now more aware of how precious life is and how fragile it can be.
It’s also during this time that I am realizing how much love and friendship are around me. As we started notifying people, shocked friends and colleagues immediately offered their sympathy and support. If you know me, I hate inconveniencing people but I am learning to accept the reality that I will be needing some help and support at some point and that I need time to focus on getting better and spending time with the ones that matter. It made me realize how many are ready to see me and my family through this, from offering to buy/drop off food, taking things off your workload, helping make medical arrangements, and offering to watch the kids. The outpouring of support is very humbling.
My sister and my parents have also been wonderful, always checking up on me, with my parents even putting their own schedule on hold to help with the kids/house.
Above all, I wanted to give a special shout out to my wife, Cheryl, who despite everything else she’s dealing with has proven to go the distance with me, in sickness and in health. I could not love this lady more especially during this time. In addition to constantly encouraging me to be more optimistic — which is tough as I am usually the “glass half empty, plan for the worst” part of the fam — and taking care of me, she’s been my most passionate and persistent medical advocate. She has tirelessly researched this thing day and night, made numerous phone calls, and fought the system for me to secure a more immediate treatment. Thanks to her, my treatment has been expedited and I am now starting to receive a real plan at fighting back.
I am done feeling depressed. It’s time to fight.
I am looking forward to one hell of a fight. It will be long and I am looking at a series of appointments and procedures with chemo starting effectively to contain the spread, and extensive radiation and surgery following later. I am looking at months of treatment but it’s finally starting.
Today, I met with the surgeon, one of the best in the region, and the Chief Oncologist who’s known for being on the cutting edge of cancer research/treatment. Tomorrow, I meet with the Radiation Oncologist and as early as next week, I will begin getting chemo. The reality is cancer treatment today is still both science and an art form. It helps to think that the individuals handling my care are considered one of the best in their fields; it’s at least giving me a lot of hope.
I may now be a part of the ‘cancer victim’ statistic but I refuse to be a part of the ‘cancer death’ statistic.
Even if the odds of surviving this is small, I will pursue those odds. I have no choice. I have to beat this thing if only for the sake of my kids. They are the ones that matter most at this point and I cannot let them down.
If they told me that I will need to cut off an arm for me to live long enough to see my kids grow up & live a happy life, I would do it in a heartbeat. Cut off anything I don’t need. Cut it off now! Let’s get this done.
In the meantime, please bear with me as I deal with this M$%@F%##NG plague that I look forward to turning into my b****! (excuse my language and enthusiasm). Rectal Cancer started this fight in my ass. I’m going to finish it by kicking its ass! Expect some ass to ass fight. It will be gross but it will be epic. Also, thank you for listening and just being there.
Lastly, I wanted to share this very personal message to encourage everyone, at the risk of sounding cliche’, to not take life for granted. Tomorrow is never promised; make the most of every minute. I thought I have forever until I was reminded that I don’t. I know that life will never be the same for me from hereon regardless of the outcome.
Also, please take this opportunity to get screened and screened early or encourage someone to do so. This caught me off-guard but I’m hoping this experience will also give someone a chance to catch something early on, whatever it may be.
I look forward to partying with all of you when this is all over. Someday, my humor will come back. For now, please forgive the cheese*.
*PS: I’m still lactose intolerant
Much love,
Audie
UPDATE:
Since writing this piece, I’ve since gotten treatment. I documented my first retaliatory shots in this piece titled, “And so begins the battle…” and it’s a wild ride.