I had a post-surgery follow up visit with my urologist the day before Thanksgiving.  In short, the cancer I was diagnosed with a week and a day before was just about as contained as it could be, the tumor had been removed 2 days after discovery, there were no signs of it having spread, and all that was left was a 2 inch incision healing nicely and discussions with oncologists regarding adjuvant  treatments to further reduce my chances of recurrence.

In those 8 days I had gone from total breakdown, while sitting alone in my car at the hospital that Tuesday afternoon, through blood tests, XRays, and surgical units.   I was bumped along on a moving table through a whirring CT scanner, and sat in the offices of doctors who days before I had never met, to discuss in a very tactical and businesslike manner my future on this earth.  I spent the hours I had out of the grasp of our healthcare system in front of my computer, trying to learn all that I could about testicular cancer.  Along the way on the internet, I found a fantastic group of patients and survivors who were struggling with, or had conquered, the same diagnosis I had just received.  And for days, friends and family called, e-mailed, sent cards and visited.    And oddly, but understandably given my nature, I also found humor in the situation.

Whirlwind as it was, that week taught me a lot of things.  From perspective on life, to the value of family and friends, the special bond that cancer patients and survivors share, to sensitivity to others who have dealt with cancer with less desirable results and the value of the love that exists between my personal nurse and wife, and me (that's just two people, BTW).  I had struggled a bit with trying to sort out what does this all really mean to me, but have concluded that there are two “positive” things I will now be an advocate of going forward.

One is to trumpet the message of not ever second guessing the effect of a card, a phone call, an e-mail or just a supportive word to anyone going through a difficult time like this.   I have learned how easy it is to feel lost, alone, scared, overwhelmed and a whole host of other daunting emotions… and how just a kind thought makes you instantly feel a thousand times better.  As I sat in my car that Tuesday completely crushed and confused with what I had been dealt, I was rescued first by the love of a life partner, and wife who quickly came to my side and let me know I was not alone.   Immediately afterward, as we made phone calls, friends connected with blinding speed to tell us that they were there and asked how they could help.  I am now keenly aware that human empathy is one of those special gifts that we as humans all have, and that its collective power can propel anyone from the depths of despair to one of the very best hope.    I simply cannot fathom how someone dealing with this could survive without the help and support of others.

And second, the importance of being an advocate for your own health.  Sort of like one of those screeching tire, near-miss moments we probably have all had in our cars, I now realize that while I have come away with one of the best possible diagnosis (perhaps a minor fender bender to extend the analogy a bit), it could have easily been far worse.  In the research I have done over the last week I have read of many stories of complex and life changing treatments that are needed if things are not caught early enough.   Cancer is not a guaranteed death sentence.  It is complex, and comes in many varieties with dramatic differences in curability.  But major strides have been made with many of them.  Not 50 years ago, my chances of surviving this would have been in the single digits.    Today, with my diagnosis and treatment options, I am near 100%.  Support cancer research as you can, and educate yourselves on types of cancer you may be at risk for.  Some of the simplest and most treatable types are also the easiest to self-screen and diagnose.  But left in an apathetic, “I feel fine” state, virtually all unchecked cancers will find their way from organ to organ and destroy human lives.

I will live now as a cancer survivor but am comforted by the statistically low chances of recurrence for the type of cancer that I have had, and the treatability of it should it recur.  It has given me a new set of eyes.   Eyes that caught a glimpse this week of the collaborative power of the love of friends and family, my own stamina and the hand of God.    Now Thanksgiving will be remembered not for the pilgrim candles or apple pie, but for the 3 word e-mails “Thinking of you” that stop me in my tracks and keep me from immediately going on and wading through my e-Bay auction alerts.  It will be remembered for hugs from my wife that last several seconds longer than they used to and that I am not always the one to release the embrace first.   It will be remembered not for the quick, usual exchanges when greeting friends, but for the sincerity and warmth in their eyes prior to a hug or heartfelt handshake.  It will be remembered not for spending moments looking at our kids for the purposes of evaluating clothing and imparting parental codes, but for just spending moments looking at our kids.

I simply cannot express what the outpouring of support, prayer and well wishes has meant to not just me, but to our family.   As we breathe a sigh of cautious relief now, we reflect on how blessed we are to have such a wonderful circle of friends.  

John