Thursday, September 9th 2010. I was having some pain in my groin so I went to my Primary Care Physician. He examined me and told me there was something irregular going on. He ordered an ultrasound for me.
Tuesday, September 14th was when I went in and began the ultrasound examination. The monitors showed something strange on my right testicle. It looked like tight dark scribbles. I never wanted to believe that it could have been anything worse than an infection, because I felt perfectly healthy. The technician told me that they would get back to me between 3-5 days.
Wednesday, September 15th I get a call in the morning from the Ultrasound Analyst saying that he found something abnormal in my ultrasound and I needed to schedule an appointment right away. Only seconds after that call ended I got a call from the Urologist's office-scheduling department. They wanted me to come in that afternoon, but I couldn’t so I set the time for the next day.
Thursday, September 16th after filling out paperwork, they had me take a U.A. (Urine Analysis) then wait in a room with my wife. The doctor came in, had me drop my pants and he examined me. Only moments after – probably no more than a minute – he sat back down and said I could pull my pants back up. That was when he told me I had Testicular Cancer. He wanted to get me into surgery right away, only I don’t have medical insurance. I asked him if we could wait a month for me to get insurance and he vehemently shook his head “no.” He explained that this cancer was highly treatable (a 98% success rate), but that it spreads quickly, if not treated. The sooner we operate, the better. He set the surgery date for Tuesday, September 21st at 1 o’clock.
It all happened so fast, but all I saw were dollar signs and debt. I had NO idea how I was going to afford this. I had a job but had only been working there for 2 weeks. It was a sales job, so you only get paid for presentations and sales. I hadn’t done any of those yet. The big day to put to practice what we learned was going to be Saturday. When the doctor said I couldn’t do any heavy lifting for a month I knew I would have to quit my job. So at that point he left. There we were sitting in his office waiting for his nurse to come in with consent forms, knowing we had no cell service. I started to get antsy. First, I wanted to sever the obligation to the company I was working for, since they invest 3,000 dollars in every trainee. Then I would tell family.
The nurse came back in and told us I would have to get a blood test before we left. We signed the consent forms and were on our way. It seemed surreal.
We got to the Lab and a really nice nurse took us back. We got to talking and explained our situation about how we tried to apply for insurance when we first got married a year ago but because I have a preexisting condition of ADHD and my wife had panic attacks less than 5 years ago, no insurance company would insure us, even though we were perfectly healthy. The nurse could sympathize. She has a 21 year old, special needs daughter who hasn’t had surgery for 16 years and no one will insure her. She was very helpful and told us about all the different programs. One of which was CICP (Colorado Indigent Care Program) that operates out of Poudre Valley Hospital in Fort Collins, the one where the operation would take place.
Friday, September 17th at 10:15, I had an appointment for a CT or CAT Scan of my pelvis and chest. We went and did that and then headed down to the Financial Aid Department of the Hospital. After we proved we were Colorado residents they gave us a purple card. This meant that every procedure would be 15-20 dollars. All we would have to do is pay Doctor’s fees. This was a major relief for me. In fact we paid for the surgery right there: fifteen dollars!
After that we went in to go and do my Pre-Op consultation. I learned that the surgery would take an hour to an hour and fifteen minutes. I would have to have a responsible adult with me 24 hours after the surgery.
That night the In-Laws, siblings-in-law, my parents and one of my brothers went out to dinner. At dinner the suggestion was made that we go to a church meeting on Saturday where another cancer survivor was speaking.
Saturday, September 18th we went to the church meeting and listened to the speakers. I found a lot of strength in the speakers. However, up until this point I had tried to stay very positive about my lot. The way this survivor spoke though, added a component of fear and doubt that I wasn’t comfortable with. I felt like the more people that knew about my condition (outside my circle of influence) the more fearful reactions I received.
I want to be positive and optimistic about what is to come. After the talk the cancer survivor gave, he came up to me. We shook hands and I thanked him for his words. He stuttered and stopped, showing pity for me, by saying, [he] can’t even begin to express how sorry [he] is for me. I didn’t like that.
As we were leaving in the car I told my wife that I tend to be influenced heavily by multiple opinions. So when a person who has survived cancer expresses fear, sorrow and pity for me, it tends to rub off. I want to stay positive, but I can’t do that when people talk to me like they have no hope for my predicament or their first reaction to me is deep remorse. It starts to affect me negatively little, by little. Maybe I am just too casual about things, because I surrender control to things that are out of my control. I don’t like to waste my time wishing I hadn’t been cast this lot, because it doesn’t do anybody any good. I don’t want to spend time daydreaming about what would have happened if I hadn’t gotten cancer.
I will need the strength to fight and sorrow sucks that strength right out of you. I had been having pain in my groin for about a month before I went into the Doctor. About 5 days before I went in to see the Doctor I committed to myself that I would do anything reasonably necessary to get rid of whatever it was that was causing me grief. When I found out I had cancer I was already at peace with any solution.
So no, I don’t feel sad that I have this. It has brought my family together. In a way, I feel like a tool for God, a catalyst for bringing a scattered family closer together. That may sound weird, but I believe it. I have no genetic predisposition to cancer. There is only one instance and a relative of mine had prostate cancer. I don’t think this was random.
I don’t regret getting it. I’m not afraid. The cancer survivor spoke about hope, yet showed fear when approaching me about having cancer. I don’t think cancer is something we should fear. We should definitely be educated and have a healthy respect for it, but we shouldn’t fear something we have to fight. We should embrace the inevitability of a fight, and if the fight doesn’t come, the victor goes to the hopeful.
Sunday, September 19th a website is under-construction by Nathan Chaney of Illinois. The site will be where people can go to get the whole story about what’s happening, get information and donate what they can to help out with the Doctor’s fees that I’ll have to pay out of pocket. My mom pushed for the idea and thought I should go for it, so I asked a talented Web Designer out of the Saint Louis area to make it happen. He is gladly donating his time for the cause.
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