Seven to eight thousand males get this per year. Since I live in Normal Illinois, this works out to two people a year. Sometimes I wish I would be the small percentage of males who get breast cancer solely because there would be a support group in my town. At best I can find on line groups. Sure there is the Livestrong foundation. And don't get me wrong, they have been nice in some of their responses. But there are times I feel, living in the information centered US, that all that is being asked for is more information so they can build data profiles on you for the targeted customer communications, "Dry mouth, depressed, not hungry? Try these pills!"
I've been trying to think of a way to start this blog and in my head, in the world of ideas, everything sounds better, more eloquent, and rather dignified. But when it comes time to sit down and type, the only thing that can come out is "crap". No, it really doesn't come out as that, it really comes out as a "FUCK", with some "what in the..." thrown in there for good measure.
I'm actually, really ok with the diagnosis. It is rather frustrating. But there is really very little I can do, other than deal with the issue at hand. It's treatable. It's curable. And we will do what we can. I have nothing else to do, and if I don't do something about this, I will die. And I really don't want to do that yet. And really, if I do do that, I want to be present for it. And I don't think I can do that just yet. (That's the Zen part of this blog.)
How did this start? Well about 7 months ago I put on my pants and it felt like I racked myself. I thought I was getting older (I'm in my 40's, my body has been going to pot lately) and "things" were "falling". But the pain stayed. It would go away, but then it would come back and stay for a while. Then it would stay even longer. I eventually felt down there, and the right one was different than the left one. So I made a doctor appointment. I actually made an appointment for my back, this was secondary.
The appointment came and he felt my testicle and said, "This doesn't feel right. We need to get a sonogram on it as soon as possible". So I really wasn't worried. Cancer didn't come to mind. I had an issue and it needed to be addressed.
So I had my sonogram done. (Why is it I get the hottest blonds I've ever seen in 4 years sonogram my testicles?! I've had it done twice and even with all the pain there were a couple of times I had to think, "ooh, more lotion... baseball, baseball, nuns, nuns!" There is this odd cosmic joke out there, and "hot blonds massaging my testicles for medicine and science" is just one of the setups.) And within 3 hours of exam my doctor called and said, "This doesn't look good, we need a urologist to look at it. Something might need to come out." That's what I remember. More could have been said.
The odd thing about this entire process is that cancer was never mentioned until the pathology report came back. They couldn't say it was cancer even though they knew it was. Because of this vague terms were used. For me I was vague and unsure of what was going on. For my best friend, she knew what was happening. The doctors knew too, they just couldn't tell me. The magnitude of the problem really didn't hit me until the CT scans.
So my urology appointment went something like this, "Hi. Do you want kids? It needs to come out. It might be cancer, we don't know until we will do the pathology. It's 101, this needs to come out now. How's tomorrow?" So the urologist yanked out my testicle out the next day. The thing that took my by surprise was all the blood tests and chest x-ray they did. I didn't know it was cancer, but they were assuming it was. And the x-ray showed "nodules". Terry the Tumor's first public appearance.
Of the things that really have bugged me throughout this ongoing ordeal, the following is the biggest. This was my first operation, other than tooth extraction. This was the first time I was out like a light. There was nothing. And I mean nothing. I remember they said, "we put it in, you should feel something warm". They were talking about the anesthesia. And it was like a wave of wet sand hit me. The next thing I remember was someone saying, "OK lift up." And I screamed because my groin hurt. I was hoping for something like an out of body experience, or some really cool dreams. But I had nothing. It was literally a time warp, a sharp, crisp, wet sand like time warp of several hours.
So in recovery for the operation the pathology came back, cancer. Mixed cells. I had both, I can't spell it, sematoma and nonsematoma. This told them it had spread. The urologist saw my x-ray report, he knew it already had. The scary part for him and my friend is that I had been complaining about head aches. Who knew testicular cancer can spread to your brian.... my urologist. But not me.
So we did three CT scans. Don't choose the apple flavor drink... it's horrible. I'm sure they are all pretty horrible. But that wasn't even close to apple. Let alone a drink. They scanned my head, chest and pelvis. Luckily only one of the three came back positive, my chest. I named my tumor Terry. He lives in my lower right lung. He has some friends mucking around with my lymph nodes around my heart as well. When I was told this, it finally sunk in. Not only that but some other things started to make sense. There were pains in my chest. I thought I was getting fat and out of shape. It was in my right side, so I wasn't worried about a heart attack. It just felt like I needed to go to the gym. And after about three days, I felt better. But now I had a better idea of what was really going on. And yes, there were also periodic heart pains as well.
For those of you keeping track of things, this is Stage III Testicular Cancer. I is in the testicle. II is I plus in the lymph nodes. III is II plus somewhere else in the body.
Right now the plan is Chemo. BEP. I have no idea what that means other than the bleomycin and the potential lung issues. Yeah, lung issues. Don't forget about the liver and kidney issues. Right now I have no idea what to expect because I haven't gone through it. That's sort of what this blog is about. My main concern has been about the chemo, I don't know what to expect. I didn't know what I had was cancer, and I don't know what is going to happen when we treat it. If I can, I will write about it. I want to write about it. I want to write something more intelligent than "crap". I want to give some details so that if someone does go through this, they will at least have an idea of what I went through... and hopefully that will help them make their mountain a little less rocky to traverse.
What's with the title? Well, I am a practicing Buddhist, a Zen Buddhist. And I also like coffee. If I can walk, I will be walking to the coffee shop. If I can type, I would prefer to type from there, from the coffee shop. When I was recovering from surgery my friend would take me to the various coffee shops in the area. She would grade, I would read Craig Ferguson or Zen books. Craig's novel, "Between the Bridge and the River" is really quite good.
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