04|14|2010

Let me start off by saying thank you to everyone who has shown so much love and compassion to our family.  I wish there were stronger words I could use to express my gratitude, but I know of none others, therefore please feel of their sincerity.

So many of you have wanted to know about our journey into cancer, so I thought I would provide a brief outline of how things have transpired.  My single desire in sharing this journey is to either inspire (or scare people if needs be) into getting a colonoscopy.  DO NOT WAIT.

I’ve always been active and healthy.  I’ve tried to eat right and exercise (at least 40 minutes of cardio four times per week). I don’t use tobacco or drink alcohol, coffee or tea.   Except for a kidney stone, I’ve never taken any prescription medication (and that was 1 Percocet, one time).  I don’t fit in to any of the high risk categories for cancer, nor is there a history of cancer in my family.  In fact, people in my gene pool tend to die from one of two things, brain trauma or old age mixed in with some dementia.  Because of that, I always imagined myself at 89 years old, wandering through the grocery store without shoes, one of my socks coming off, a crash helmet strapped on backwards (brain trauma prevention) and looking for my wife to get permission to buy Jiff peanut butter.  I share this to help others get an idea of the shock and disbelief I experienced each time I learned about my condition. 

I seem to remember noticing symptoms around the end of October 2009.  I started to notice more blood in my stools. (The reason I said “more blood” is because I had dealt with hemorrhoids for 30 years, so blood was not a big concern to me).  I knew given enough time things would return to normal.  By the end of November things had not changed but I also remembered my grandmother had diverticulitis and colitis which she managed via her diet.  Because I was in the “holiday eating mode” I thought to myself…I need to get back to eating the way I should, which meant not eating so much candy and nuts.  That seemed to help quite a bit.  I thought to myself “problem solved”.  By Christmas time the symptoms returned, along with more frequent bowl movements, slight cramping and lose consistency (sorry to be so explicit, but these are deadly symptoms).  I had read somewhere that carbonated soda (especially ones with caffeine) seemed to trigger these “episodes” when someone has colitis.  Although I had not been drinking a lot of soda, I gave up the Diet Coke which again seemed to settle things down.  The first part of January I contracted food poisoning which triggered a lot of blood, cramping and frequency but again I explained it away to the effects of food poisoning.  

Looking back on it now it is all so clear to me, but then, I found it very easy to explain things away.  After all, I was only 50, I was in good shape, blah blah blah and most importantly, I thought I was busy.  By March, I finally admitted to myself I was idiot for not getting checked. I found a family physician and scheduled an appointment for March 16th.  His initial reaction was the same as mine…I was an idiot but I most likely had colitis.  He said let’s get a colonoscopy to rule things out and go from there. The procedure was for mid April, but because of a cancelation, I was able to move it up to April 1st.  

The day of the colonoscopy finally came and I was more concerned about the procedure than I was the results.   I’ll never forget what I experienced when the Doctor called my wife and me into the consultation room and closed the door.  I could tell by his demeanor he was nervous about something.  He showed us where he had removed some polyps.  I thought to myself…WOW, I’ve been playing with fire, I’m glad we caught them.  Then he showed us the polyp we didn’t catch in time.  I had a tumor located at about 20 cm which had to be surgically removed quickly.

We were able to schedule a surgical consultation for the next Wednesday (April 7).    In the mean time the pathology report came back quickly and confirmed that it was cancer.   When we met with the surgeon he asked some good questions and did a lot of listening.  In passing I mentioned that on one occasion I had felt some cramping in my bladder.  He did some additional tests in his office and was concerned enough to order a CT scan to be done that night.  If the cancer had moved into my bladder, we were going to need a different approach.  We still scheduled the surgery for two days later (i.e. Friday, April 9), but it was contingent upon the CT scan and what the urologist had to say. 

The next day (the day before the scheduled surgery) I was to start my “bowel prep” at 11 am.  I didn’t want to start it if we were going to reschedule surgery.  I called the Doctor at 10:45 am to see what he had heard.  He said he had seen that the results from the CT scan had come in but he needed to review them.  He quickly retrieved them and read them while we were on the phone.  I was sitting at my desk, the Doctor was on the speaker phone, my wife was next to me and my mother was on the couch across the room.  He said he could not tell from the CT scan what the condition of my bladder was.  This scared me but I could not believe what he said next.  He told us the cancer had spread to my liver.  My wife’s response was filled with an anguished despair I had never heard before.  My mother was void of any expression and I was more bewildered than I had ever been in my life.  The news then got worse.  It had also spread to my lung.  How could this be?  I didn’t know how to act, think or feel.  All I could think to do was to get off the phone.  I didn’t want to hear any more and needed to take care of my wife. On the other hand, I couldn’t fight an enemy I didn’t understand and needed to hear what else the doctor had to say.  I stayed on the phone but quite frankly, didn’t hear anything else that was said other than the surgery still needed to take place the next day.

My mother and I were both in shock and felt nothing.  My wife on the other hand felt the full force of the impact.  It stung her to the very core. All I wanted to do was hold her and tell her everything would be fine, but the words wouldn’t come.  We were in for the battle of our lives and the odds were significantly stacked against us.  How were we going to tell the kids?  I needed to start my prep, but the kids needed our time.  We conferenced in the girls via phone.  Never had I felt as helpless as a father.  There was nothing I could do from 2000 miles away.  We then called my brothers and went through the same helpless experience again.  I finally made contact with Ryan’s mission president.  (Ryan has been serving a 2 year mission for our church.  I wanted to speak with his leader first so they could be there to comfort him.)   His mission president was incredible.  As a missionary himself 30 years ago he had received the same news about his mother.  He was able to help calm my emotions and realign myself with hope and faith (It always amazes me how God works through other people).  We ended up making contact with Ryan about 6:00 pm.  He was very quiet but encouraged us to move forward with faith. 

The night before surgery Susan and I stayed up until 1:00 am talking.  We surprisingly slept well that night but woke up about 6:00 am.  We again started to talk.  Talking during times of trial is a process we have developed over the years as we dealt with difficult situations and found it to be quite comforting.  We’ve learned that by talking about our struggles we could find strength and comfort, but this time it was different.  There was no comfort; only fear.  The more we talked, the more the tears flowed. 

As we laid there in the safety of our room and comfort of our bed I stared to hear the birds chirp and became aware of the fact that it was starting to get light.  I’ve always been a morning person.  I love the freshness of the morning and the excitement of a new day.  To me, morning has always been a peaceful and exhilarating time.  Today was different, for the first time in my life I feared the light.  I didn’t want the light to come because it meant I had to face reality.  I could feel that time was moving forward and I couldn’t stop it. By 8:00 am I knew it was time.  I said to Susan, “it’s time” she said “I know”. Without another word spoken, we both pushed aside the blankets stepped on to the floor and as a united team began to attack the day.