Day 4 of treatments.
A slap in the face for sure...
It's day four and I really feel worse, unfortunately, than I thought I would this early on. I guess that means the chemo is kicking ass which is good. I was walking through the hospital going from the Dana Farber Center to the Yawkey center feeling like crap when a young girl no older than 1 year came by in a stroller with her mom. It really ripped at my heart seeing her whispy hair and the drawn look on her face. It just isn't fair, it just isn't right. I know at that point it made my simple little case of self importance melt away. The nausea I felt, the dizzy feelings seemed meaningless next to that little girl coming by on her way from radiation. I have thought of her many times since I saw her and without knowing it she has become an inspiration for me.
You see a lot at this clinic that really puts things in perspective. I have a beautiful and healthy family, extended family and friends, and a very positive outlook on the outcome of my disease. There are way to many people that don't have any of this to fall back on. I am now considering myself blessed with a small case of bad luck on the side. I'll take that with all your support any day of the week.
I was able to make it into work yesterday for a few hours and tie off with my team. Thanks for picking up the slack and even though I'm constantly reminded by my management team that there wasn't much to make up for, I know you guys are kicking butt and doing everything you can to cover. I appreciate it very much. It was good to see everyone again. I only lasted till about 2:30, but since I was in Boston at 7am, it sure felt like a full day.
Denise is heading in with me today to look at a place to stay closer to the city. I can't handle the travel already. I didn't think it would get to me this quickly but holy cow did it ever. The last few weeks they have a hotel near the hospital that has rates for patients so we are going to reach out to them today.
I am also bringing my Bob Seger CD to radiation. Yesterday was Eric Clapton. He's ok, but not when they are playing one long guitar solo for 10 minutes. Too much of a good thing. With Bob these sessions will fly by. I have one nurse who never heard of Bob Seger. First off, really? Second, I promised she will like him. All she knows about him is Tom Cruise danced in his underwear to one of his songs. She wasn't impressed. I told her that's his worst song ever so be ready.
On the negative side of things, day 5 and 6 I'm told is when the flu like symptoms kick in. That sounds like a nice topper to the nausea feeling I have most of the day, even with the meds.
Please post your name with the comments you leave. It's hard to tell on some of them who it is. Lots of codenames. Thanks for the posts, keep them coming, they are the best!
Friday, June 28, 2013
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
Nurse, can you shut her UP!
Holy cow can some people talk. And I'll get to that in a minute.
So I'm at at 4:30 this morning after a sleepless night heading in for my first 6 hour chemo drip with a side order of radiation at 6pm. I start the day at 6:30am with 3 hours of consultations followed by the drip followed by 3 hours of waiting for the radiation machine to melt my innards. My good friend Dan Martin mercifully drove me in at 5am to get there on time and my brother in law John picked my up at dusk when I was ready.
The consultations were typical any pain, any issues (yeah, I have this lump in my throat...), any questions. Take blood, urine, and my height and weight 3 times. I asked "do you expect me to shrink in height too? This is something I wasn't told ahead of time. Can you at least keep me over 6'?"
Ok, it's about 9:00 am and I sit down in the lazy boy to get my drip. Suzanne, my waitress, orders me up a couple fancy looking saline solutions and some potassium and magnesium sides to get me going before the chemo. Delicious. All is going just ducky. Nice view of a building going up across the street which was interesting, a helicopter landing on the hospital roof was cool to watch too. However what is really tickling my fancy is the 4 hour nap i'm about to drop on them while they drip in me.
But no. Lo and behold who sits next to me but Oprah Freaking Winfrey. Holy cow can this lady talk! The poor thing just had the chicken salad but it was 'just a touch on the dry side', that coupled with the chips that were too salty sent her right over the edge. And from that point on it was too warm, then too cold, another pillow please, take one of these away. I mean come on. Her husband and daughter were there too. I loved her father, he didn't say boo. He just looked at me like he wanted to say "if I stand near a window, would you mind pushing?" I smiled and he knew I was saying "tell you what, I'll hold your hand on the way down!"
That's alright, I snuck in a couple hours, did a couple work calls when awake, emails etc.. It's a long time to sit and do nothing I'll tell you. I continue to get emails from friends (and all my coworkers are in my friend category from this point forward who contact me with well wishes), and family.
Honestly right now all is good. As I write this I am two days out from the chemo and the past few hours I have just been overwhelmed with a tired feeling like where your legs feel like lead weights and your head is the same. They told me it was coming. They don't lie there. Nausea not horrible but enough to cause discomfort so far. The worst pain I felt was my first radiation trip they saddled me down, locked me in and THEN put in Rascal Flatts. I mean that's just pouring salt in the wound. I can't stand his voice. All was set straight day two when Mr Bob Seger paid a visit to the cd player!
I saw my much OLDER sister in law is joining the commentary in my blog and has threatened/promised to share funny stories about my past. I'm sure with the people reading this they will all cast a positive light on me since the people who control my career may be reading this as well. And did I mention how wonderful my entire management team is? Here's a good place to remind everyone.
One last funny one. I have to take a chill pill when i do radiation because i don't handle the whole locked down on the board with my face squished underneath a hard plastic shield that doesn't let you move an inch while someone 100 feet away shoots laser beams at me in a space invaders like game. They fed me a bunch of stuff in the IV as well today for nausea which makes you drowsy, then I took the other drug that does the same and headed down to radiation. Suzanne says, "who's driving you". I said "you're looking at him, why". Suzanne's says "but you just took two drugs to make you drowsy how can you drive". I said, you gave me the same drugs you gave that 120lb woman over there. I expect to be able to handle it. If I can't, I won't drive. I don't feel drousy, just takes the edge off. Then I pointed to the bottle that said, 'if driving, use caution' and smiled. All's good if the drug company says so right!
Thanks everyone for the awesome words of encouragement, the posts and the support. It helps, it helps, it helps!!! It helps more than you will ever know. And as this gets worse, which is is going to get, please keep em coming! Thanks.
Holy cow can some people talk. And I'll get to that in a minute.
So I'm at at 4:30 this morning after a sleepless night heading in for my first 6 hour chemo drip with a side order of radiation at 6pm. I start the day at 6:30am with 3 hours of consultations followed by the drip followed by 3 hours of waiting for the radiation machine to melt my innards. My good friend Dan Martin mercifully drove me in at 5am to get there on time and my brother in law John picked my up at dusk when I was ready.
The consultations were typical any pain, any issues (yeah, I have this lump in my throat...), any questions. Take blood, urine, and my height and weight 3 times. I asked "do you expect me to shrink in height too? This is something I wasn't told ahead of time. Can you at least keep me over 6'?"
Ok, it's about 9:00 am and I sit down in the lazy boy to get my drip. Suzanne, my waitress, orders me up a couple fancy looking saline solutions and some potassium and magnesium sides to get me going before the chemo. Delicious. All is going just ducky. Nice view of a building going up across the street which was interesting, a helicopter landing on the hospital roof was cool to watch too. However what is really tickling my fancy is the 4 hour nap i'm about to drop on them while they drip in me.
But no. Lo and behold who sits next to me but Oprah Freaking Winfrey. Holy cow can this lady talk! The poor thing just had the chicken salad but it was 'just a touch on the dry side', that coupled with the chips that were too salty sent her right over the edge. And from that point on it was too warm, then too cold, another pillow please, take one of these away. I mean come on. Her husband and daughter were there too. I loved her father, he didn't say boo. He just looked at me like he wanted to say "if I stand near a window, would you mind pushing?" I smiled and he knew I was saying "tell you what, I'll hold your hand on the way down!"
That's alright, I snuck in a couple hours, did a couple work calls when awake, emails etc.. It's a long time to sit and do nothing I'll tell you. I continue to get emails from friends (and all my coworkers are in my friend category from this point forward who contact me with well wishes), and family.
Honestly right now all is good. As I write this I am two days out from the chemo and the past few hours I have just been overwhelmed with a tired feeling like where your legs feel like lead weights and your head is the same. They told me it was coming. They don't lie there. Nausea not horrible but enough to cause discomfort so far. The worst pain I felt was my first radiation trip they saddled me down, locked me in and THEN put in Rascal Flatts. I mean that's just pouring salt in the wound. I can't stand his voice. All was set straight day two when Mr Bob Seger paid a visit to the cd player!
I saw my much OLDER sister in law is joining the commentary in my blog and has threatened/promised to share funny stories about my past. I'm sure with the people reading this they will all cast a positive light on me since the people who control my career may be reading this as well. And did I mention how wonderful my entire management team is? Here's a good place to remind everyone.
One last funny one. I have to take a chill pill when i do radiation because i don't handle the whole locked down on the board with my face squished underneath a hard plastic shield that doesn't let you move an inch while someone 100 feet away shoots laser beams at me in a space invaders like game. They fed me a bunch of stuff in the IV as well today for nausea which makes you drowsy, then I took the other drug that does the same and headed down to radiation. Suzanne says, "who's driving you". I said "you're looking at him, why". Suzanne's says "but you just took two drugs to make you drowsy how can you drive". I said, you gave me the same drugs you gave that 120lb woman over there. I expect to be able to handle it. If I can't, I won't drive. I don't feel drousy, just takes the edge off. Then I pointed to the bottle that said, 'if driving, use caution' and smiled. All's good if the drug company says so right!
Thanks everyone for the awesome words of encouragement, the posts and the support. It helps, it helps, it helps!!! It helps more than you will ever know. And as this gets worse, which is is going to get, please keep em coming! Thanks.
Friday, June 21, 2013
So just what do I have, and what's gonna happen?
This is my second entry and I figured I'd spend a little time talking about what I have and what the prognosis is. As I think about the last few weeks I realize just how crazy the ride has been and how unbelievably understanding so many people have been. So let's start from the top shall we...
I have throat cancer in the tonsil area as well as the lymph node on the left side of my neck. Funny thing when I tell people face to face everyone stares down to my neck like they expect to see some massive tumor poking out the side of my head. It's in there, trust me, i just have enough fat to cover it up so you can't tell. It's stage 3 cancer and it will be treated with Chemo and radiation simultaneously over 7 long weeks. The stage 3 piece brings up a funny story about the type of people I work with. Let me share...
I get a call from a senior sales executive who I have a long term connection to the other day when he heard the news. First off, I greatly appreciated the call from him. For the purpose of this story let's call him Johnny. Now, let's just say you don't get to his level without being able to tell a story or two, listen to your 'customer' (me in this case), and make the person you are talking to feel like you really understand what their issue is and convince them that you have just what they need. So as I am telling John about the diagnosis I mention it is stage 3. At that point, John says, "oh man, stage 3, that's great. I thought you were going to say it was stage 4, then I was going to tell you everything will be ok as I hang up the phone and say to myself 'oh shit, you are screwed'. I hadn't laughed about the cancer until that comment was made. It lifted me up at a time I really needed to be lifted, and here's why I needed just that comment...
On Tuesday when I was told I had cancer, the oncologist from Foxboro I mentioned earlier handed me my written report. As I scanned it I came across the line "survival rate for this diagnosis is 50%". I pointed to the line on the report as I showed Denise. My legs went weak and my head was spinning. I was still sure I would be on the right side of the 50, but holy freaking cow, if that coin lands on the wrong side, this isn't working out the way I had scripted it. After all, I still had plenty of burnt burgers to be had at Ed's house and plenty of boys to scare away from my daughters to be checking out of life so soon.
I went to work the next day Wednesday and didn't say anything until I wrote an email to five people just letting them know I may not be as responsive to their requests as I normally like to be and mentioned the diagnosis. From that point on, word spread and I was overwhelmed with well wishes and comments that everyone was going to be there to help fight the fight. It was in one word AWESOME. I sent the email and literally ran from my office because I knew Joan and Susan were going to see it and come bombing down to my office and I just wasn't prepared to talk about it just yet. Not at 50% survival rate I wasn't. I needed to learn more before I discussed it with them or anyone. Which leads me to share another story to show the type of people I work with and why they make it impossible to have anything other than a positive outlook on things.
It's Thursday morning and I see one of our executives in the hall who knows about the diagnosis (he was on my first email to the 5 people I support. He walks right into my personal space (so now everyone knows who he is, right), and just looks at me and says "so what the hell is going on". We talk, I tell him, he stares through me like he's reading my mind, and says "Dana Farber, good! They are the best, you'll beat this. Take whatever time you need, it's not like you add value here anyway", turns and walks away. If you work at my company and didn't know who I was talking about by my first comment, you sure as hell know now. Net is, the people I work with are uncompromising, opinionated, aggressive, and combative. But most importantly, they are some of the most caring people I know. If you are lucky enough to work with people like this then kudos to you for picking a great place to be. If you aren't, I am sorry but keep trying!
It's a little after 10am and I get the call I knew was coming. It's Joan and Susan. Two of the nicest (if they like you of course) people in the world. They are like my younger sisters to me. Anyway, I'm still at 50% but have been telling people it's 80% plus just to make everyone, including myself, feel better about the whole thing. I walk down to them and I get directed to an empty office. I get a hug from both of them and I start hearing sniffles (some were probably mine starting up to). I said "call me back when you pull yourself together" and went back to my office. I couldn't deal with that just yet. Not until I knew more. 10 minutes later I got summoned back to the principles office and we talked. Each time I talked about it, I felt more at ease discussing it. That's one thing I can tell anyone dealing with something like this. Talk about it. If you have to cry, cry. If you are like me and don't want to, then don't. Take a day or two, process it, and then share. It gets easier to accept as you go and discuss it more. To me that is good. Now you can focus not on the why me, or the how did it happen, but instead you focus on HOW DO WE KICK THE CRAP OUT OF THIS THING.
I mentioned in my last note I told my parents. I also called my brother to let him know and I struggled with that conversation because it was only the second person I told. My wife told her family and now knowledge of my battle has made its way to family, friends, and coworkers. For family members who read this, you know how quickly the cousin train runs when a Shruhan hops aboard! The outward show of caring, positive comments, and well wishes has been so energizing I can't tell you. I'm learning a lot about how much it means to have people just share a quick note or call to tell you they are thinking of you. I will be sure to do more of this myself, something I know I don't do enough.
So what's a good way to wrap up my second note. Oh yeah, I went to Dana Farber one week after hearing my 50/50 prognosis. The Dr at Dana Farber kept saying, "so if you choose to go with us". I finally cut him off after the third time and said 'hey doc, you had me at hello. can you stop saying that and get to the good stuff!' At which point he said, and I'll remember his voice ringing in my head forever, "well, it's going to be a long year, but I would say officially 80% success, unofficially 90% PLUS!!! He said a bunch of stuff after that, something about feeding tubes, severe pain, controlling pain blah blah blah. I said 'sorry, you had me at hello but you lost me at 90!' I'm in, let's get going....
So the adventure begins on the 25th with my first treatment. A 6-8 hour chemo drip with a side order of radiation! Bring it on and let's bake this thing! Talk with you all soon. Please leave comments, jokes, funny stories etc. on here and remind people to get on and share!!
I have throat cancer in the tonsil area as well as the lymph node on the left side of my neck. Funny thing when I tell people face to face everyone stares down to my neck like they expect to see some massive tumor poking out the side of my head. It's in there, trust me, i just have enough fat to cover it up so you can't tell. It's stage 3 cancer and it will be treated with Chemo and radiation simultaneously over 7 long weeks. The stage 3 piece brings up a funny story about the type of people I work with. Let me share...
I get a call from a senior sales executive who I have a long term connection to the other day when he heard the news. First off, I greatly appreciated the call from him. For the purpose of this story let's call him Johnny. Now, let's just say you don't get to his level without being able to tell a story or two, listen to your 'customer' (me in this case), and make the person you are talking to feel like you really understand what their issue is and convince them that you have just what they need. So as I am telling John about the diagnosis I mention it is stage 3. At that point, John says, "oh man, stage 3, that's great. I thought you were going to say it was stage 4, then I was going to tell you everything will be ok as I hang up the phone and say to myself 'oh shit, you are screwed'. I hadn't laughed about the cancer until that comment was made. It lifted me up at a time I really needed to be lifted, and here's why I needed just that comment...
On Tuesday when I was told I had cancer, the oncologist from Foxboro I mentioned earlier handed me my written report. As I scanned it I came across the line "survival rate for this diagnosis is 50%". I pointed to the line on the report as I showed Denise. My legs went weak and my head was spinning. I was still sure I would be on the right side of the 50, but holy freaking cow, if that coin lands on the wrong side, this isn't working out the way I had scripted it. After all, I still had plenty of burnt burgers to be had at Ed's house and plenty of boys to scare away from my daughters to be checking out of life so soon.
I went to work the next day Wednesday and didn't say anything until I wrote an email to five people just letting them know I may not be as responsive to their requests as I normally like to be and mentioned the diagnosis. From that point on, word spread and I was overwhelmed with well wishes and comments that everyone was going to be there to help fight the fight. It was in one word AWESOME. I sent the email and literally ran from my office because I knew Joan and Susan were going to see it and come bombing down to my office and I just wasn't prepared to talk about it just yet. Not at 50% survival rate I wasn't. I needed to learn more before I discussed it with them or anyone. Which leads me to share another story to show the type of people I work with and why they make it impossible to have anything other than a positive outlook on things.
It's Thursday morning and I see one of our executives in the hall who knows about the diagnosis (he was on my first email to the 5 people I support. He walks right into my personal space (so now everyone knows who he is, right), and just looks at me and says "so what the hell is going on". We talk, I tell him, he stares through me like he's reading my mind, and says "Dana Farber, good! They are the best, you'll beat this. Take whatever time you need, it's not like you add value here anyway", turns and walks away. If you work at my company and didn't know who I was talking about by my first comment, you sure as hell know now. Net is, the people I work with are uncompromising, opinionated, aggressive, and combative. But most importantly, they are some of the most caring people I know. If you are lucky enough to work with people like this then kudos to you for picking a great place to be. If you aren't, I am sorry but keep trying!
It's a little after 10am and I get the call I knew was coming. It's Joan and Susan. Two of the nicest (if they like you of course) people in the world. They are like my younger sisters to me. Anyway, I'm still at 50% but have been telling people it's 80% plus just to make everyone, including myself, feel better about the whole thing. I walk down to them and I get directed to an empty office. I get a hug from both of them and I start hearing sniffles (some were probably mine starting up to). I said "call me back when you pull yourself together" and went back to my office. I couldn't deal with that just yet. Not until I knew more. 10 minutes later I got summoned back to the principles office and we talked. Each time I talked about it, I felt more at ease discussing it. That's one thing I can tell anyone dealing with something like this. Talk about it. If you have to cry, cry. If you are like me and don't want to, then don't. Take a day or two, process it, and then share. It gets easier to accept as you go and discuss it more. To me that is good. Now you can focus not on the why me, or the how did it happen, but instead you focus on HOW DO WE KICK THE CRAP OUT OF THIS THING.
I mentioned in my last note I told my parents. I also called my brother to let him know and I struggled with that conversation because it was only the second person I told. My wife told her family and now knowledge of my battle has made its way to family, friends, and coworkers. For family members who read this, you know how quickly the cousin train runs when a Shruhan hops aboard! The outward show of caring, positive comments, and well wishes has been so energizing I can't tell you. I'm learning a lot about how much it means to have people just share a quick note or call to tell you they are thinking of you. I will be sure to do more of this myself, something I know I don't do enough.
So what's a good way to wrap up my second note. Oh yeah, I went to Dana Farber one week after hearing my 50/50 prognosis. The Dr at Dana Farber kept saying, "so if you choose to go with us". I finally cut him off after the third time and said 'hey doc, you had me at hello. can you stop saying that and get to the good stuff!' At which point he said, and I'll remember his voice ringing in my head forever, "well, it's going to be a long year, but I would say officially 80% success, unofficially 90% PLUS!!! He said a bunch of stuff after that, something about feeding tubes, severe pain, controlling pain blah blah blah. I said 'sorry, you had me at hello but you lost me at 90!' I'm in, let's get going....
So the adventure begins on the 25th with my first treatment. A 6-8 hour chemo drip with a side order of radiation! Bring it on and let's bake this thing! Talk with you all soon. Please leave comments, jokes, funny stories etc. on here and remind people to get on and share!!
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
"This is the worst part of my job"...how my battle with cancer began
Tuesday, May 21st
8 words. That's how this whole thing started. My ENT (ear nose throat) Dr. Siegel, who is a great guy regardless of the news he delivered to me, started his discussion with me and my wife Denise by saying, "This is the worst part of my job". The rest of that visit was a real kick in the teeth. "You have stage 3 malignant throat cancer". I wanted to reach out and punch the little bastard right in the mouth just to shut him up. I think I said 2 words, though I don't remember what they were, got up, walked out, got in the car and drove home without another word between Denise and I. (Now that I think of it, was I supposed to stop at the counter and pay a copay to them for sharing that great news?) I know for a fact we both had some tears in our eyes, but nothing was said. We were both a little shocked I'm sure. I just wanted to stay as calm as possible and not share the thoughts and emotions I was feeling until I could be stronger than I felt at that time. Probably not the healthiest approach and I won't argue with you. It's how I deal, and everyone has to do it their own way.
So what goes through your mind when you get told you have cancer. Is it shock, fear, sadness, anger? Honestly, I guess what I felt was fear, but not for me. It was a fear that I may leave my beautiful wife and two stunningly beautiful daughters without ever seeing the things a Dad dreams of seeing. Graduation, marriage (to some man I guarantee you I will not like no matter how good a person he is!), dreams fulfilled, grandkids to spoil and all the day to day fun you live for every day. That's what got me the most. The things I'd be missing. It wasn't the fear of dying, it was the fear of not living. Maybe that's the same thing, but I don't think it is.
So I'm 30 minutes into knowing and now what. I have an oncologist appointment they already scheduled for me at 6 tonight. It's 10:30 now. So what does a newly christened cancer patient do in the meantime? Well, for me it was easy. My 11 year old wanted a garden. We had put it off for a couple weeks. I ran to Lowes, bought the lumber, went to the landscape place and loaded up with loam. I built her a garden with tears and sweat mixing together but helping me come to grips with what was happening. Pretty nice garden actually. Glad I knocked that off. One less thing to worry about.
I asked Denise to call my parents. Something about telling your parents told me I wouldn't handle it the way I wanted to handle it. Unemotionally and factually. I knew I wasn't ready. Then, as I was shoveling loam in 90 degree sun, I started to release and felt more in control. I called my parents and started to tell them. It was all good until my dad said, "remember, you have two beautiful little girls to worry about" and I lost it. I've never sobbed in my life, until that moment. I hung up on him. I was angry and bitter and the fear of leaving them was back in a rush that just floored me. For the next ten minutes I sent shovel fulls of dirt flying across the yard with very little actually hitting the garden but the physical release helped me get in control again, at least to some degree.
Funny story, though I feel horrible about it happening, at the oncologist appointment. Denise and I show up at the medical building. THe doors are locked. So we go down to the loading dock and sneak in. Only 2 cars in the whole parking lot. I see a janitor and ask where suite 101 is. He looks at me with a blank stare for 20 seconds but says nothing. I repeat, do you know where suite 101 is? Blank stare again. Then I realize he doesn't speak a word of english. So Denise and I are wandering around this huge building with no idea where the Oncologist is. We finally find him, go in the waiting room, and nobody is there. I say "hello, is anyone here". I wait a minute then, a little louder, "hello, is anyone there". I look at the sign for the Dr and it says he is a PCP/Oncologist. Great I think, I have a primary care physician who dabbles with chemo on the side as my go to guy in my battle with cancer. Well, how can I lose this battle? Now I'm getting pissed, and admittedly my emotions were slightly askew at this point anyway.....HELLO, WHERE IS ANYONE!!!! sneaks out of me. Finally a guy walks out and says "the dr is in, he is with a patient". That's when I felt horrible. He was clearly consulting with someone but how the hell was I supposed to know. Put a sign in the window, have an admin in the office, answer me the first 3 times you heard me say hello, something. Fortunately we parted ways shortly after and I reached out to Dana Farber for a second opinion.
So in my next post I will talk a little about what led me to the ENT in the first place, what I have learned so far, what Dana Farber had to say, and how I feel heading into my first treatment on June 25th, also my Mom's birthday!!
8 words. That's how this whole thing started. My ENT (ear nose throat) Dr. Siegel, who is a great guy regardless of the news he delivered to me, started his discussion with me and my wife Denise by saying, "This is the worst part of my job". The rest of that visit was a real kick in the teeth. "You have stage 3 malignant throat cancer". I wanted to reach out and punch the little bastard right in the mouth just to shut him up. I think I said 2 words, though I don't remember what they were, got up, walked out, got in the car and drove home without another word between Denise and I. (Now that I think of it, was I supposed to stop at the counter and pay a copay to them for sharing that great news?) I know for a fact we both had some tears in our eyes, but nothing was said. We were both a little shocked I'm sure. I just wanted to stay as calm as possible and not share the thoughts and emotions I was feeling until I could be stronger than I felt at that time. Probably not the healthiest approach and I won't argue with you. It's how I deal, and everyone has to do it their own way.
So what goes through your mind when you get told you have cancer. Is it shock, fear, sadness, anger? Honestly, I guess what I felt was fear, but not for me. It was a fear that I may leave my beautiful wife and two stunningly beautiful daughters without ever seeing the things a Dad dreams of seeing. Graduation, marriage (to some man I guarantee you I will not like no matter how good a person he is!), dreams fulfilled, grandkids to spoil and all the day to day fun you live for every day. That's what got me the most. The things I'd be missing. It wasn't the fear of dying, it was the fear of not living. Maybe that's the same thing, but I don't think it is.
So I'm 30 minutes into knowing and now what. I have an oncologist appointment they already scheduled for me at 6 tonight. It's 10:30 now. So what does a newly christened cancer patient do in the meantime? Well, for me it was easy. My 11 year old wanted a garden. We had put it off for a couple weeks. I ran to Lowes, bought the lumber, went to the landscape place and loaded up with loam. I built her a garden with tears and sweat mixing together but helping me come to grips with what was happening. Pretty nice garden actually. Glad I knocked that off. One less thing to worry about.
I asked Denise to call my parents. Something about telling your parents told me I wouldn't handle it the way I wanted to handle it. Unemotionally and factually. I knew I wasn't ready. Then, as I was shoveling loam in 90 degree sun, I started to release and felt more in control. I called my parents and started to tell them. It was all good until my dad said, "remember, you have two beautiful little girls to worry about" and I lost it. I've never sobbed in my life, until that moment. I hung up on him. I was angry and bitter and the fear of leaving them was back in a rush that just floored me. For the next ten minutes I sent shovel fulls of dirt flying across the yard with very little actually hitting the garden but the physical release helped me get in control again, at least to some degree.
Funny story, though I feel horrible about it happening, at the oncologist appointment. Denise and I show up at the medical building. THe doors are locked. So we go down to the loading dock and sneak in. Only 2 cars in the whole parking lot. I see a janitor and ask where suite 101 is. He looks at me with a blank stare for 20 seconds but says nothing. I repeat, do you know where suite 101 is? Blank stare again. Then I realize he doesn't speak a word of english. So Denise and I are wandering around this huge building with no idea where the Oncologist is. We finally find him, go in the waiting room, and nobody is there. I say "hello, is anyone here". I wait a minute then, a little louder, "hello, is anyone there". I look at the sign for the Dr and it says he is a PCP/Oncologist. Great I think, I have a primary care physician who dabbles with chemo on the side as my go to guy in my battle with cancer. Well, how can I lose this battle? Now I'm getting pissed, and admittedly my emotions were slightly askew at this point anyway.....HELLO, WHERE IS ANYONE!!!! sneaks out of me. Finally a guy walks out and says "the dr is in, he is with a patient". That's when I felt horrible. He was clearly consulting with someone but how the hell was I supposed to know. Put a sign in the window, have an admin in the office, answer me the first 3 times you heard me say hello, something. Fortunately we parted ways shortly after and I reached out to Dana Farber for a second opinion.
So in my next post I will talk a little about what led me to the ENT in the first place, what I have learned so far, what Dana Farber had to say, and how I feel heading into my first treatment on June 25th, also my Mom's birthday!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)