Thursday, December 22, 2016

TBT04: The Urologist

“So I am going to be straight with you. You have cancer.”

All things really came to a head that day. My urologist appointment was scheduled for October 26 with Dr. Dumont. In the waiting room, I was easily the youngest person by a long shot. I peed in a cup (to this day, I’m still not sure why) and waited to see the doctor.

I had starting vlogging my cancer story from this point.
My face wasn't sure how to comprehend what
I had been told.
After the customary “drop your pants and let me examine you,” the doctor looked me in the eye and said, “So I am going to be straight with you. You have cancer.”

Wow. Even though I had been believing this since I first called, it was still vastly different to hear it from a doctor. Furthermore, I had only called for an initial visit eight days prior. I went from having an area of concern to being a cancer patient in just over a week.

I did appreciate how straightforward and frank he was being with me. He said based on his brief examination and the ultrasound, he was 99% certain that it was cancer.

“Is this something I get a second opinion on?” I asked.

“In most cases, I tell my patients to get a second opinion. In your case, we don’t have time,” he replied.

The good news about testicular cancer is that it is very treatable. While 1 in 250 men will develop it, only 1 in 5,000 of them will die from it - roughly 1 in 300,00 of all men. On the whole, it has a 95% five-year survival rate. The bad news is that it is very aggressive. It can quickly spread to other parts of the body and become more complicated. Dr. Dumont said I had been smart and caught it early. Thank goodness I did catch it fast and called immediately. I had experienced no pain in my testicles, unlike Lance Armstrong who had felt pain and still put off getting it checked.

“So what’s next?” I inquired.

“Surgery. We need to remove the mass immediately. We can probably get you in tomorrow.”

source unknown
Double wow. Not only had I upgraded to cancer patient, I was also further promoted to surgery patient. Honestly, it was a lot to process. I told him I couldn’t commit to surgery tomorrow and needed some time to think. I also wanted to talk to Mallory because I had stupidly told her not to come with me to the appointment. He totally understood, but reiterated I had to move fast.

I went home and talked to Mallory. Up until this point, I had tried to minimize what was going on because I didn’t want to worry Mallory. As I have said, I didn’t want to burden people and generally hold my emotions in. This is fine for when I am frustrated at work or something minor is bothering me, but not so much in this situation. The weekend before, Mallory knew all of the unanswered questions were bothering me, but I refused to open up because I am a man and society says men can’t feel things. On the Sunday morning before my diagnosis, while I was waiting to hear back from the doctor’s office, she had said some minor comment and I exploded. It wasn’t the comment, but the culmination of everything to this point. Once I had calmed down enough, she admitted that she provoked me a bit to get me to open up. Sneaky, but effective. Moving forward, I knew I needed to be open with her, and as I told her about the surgery, I was, even though it was hard for both of us. Being open with others? That would have to wait.

At this point, I knew surgery was inevitable and necessary but it was still a lot to process. I cried during this time. I don’t cry often. I can count on one hand the amount of times I’ve cried since I’ve lived in Virginia. It was a lot to handle quickly and it kind of build up.

After talking with Mallory (having decided to go forward with the surgery), I called back and the office was already closed because of course it was. The following morning, they called back and the surgery was scheduled. I would be going under to have the mass removed on Friday, October 28th.

Now that I had more concrete information, it was time to let more people in.

Click here to read the next part of my story, in which I first share my cancer diagnosis with others.

On Thursdays, I am chronicling my journey from discovery to the beginning of chemotherapy. To read through my story up until this point, please click here.



Editor's note: This entry was cross-posted on the Testicular Cancer Foundation's blog

4 comments:

  1. Justin, I am blown away. I have no words. I want to say that I'm sorry but I have no doubt in my mind that there is nothing to be sorry for - you'll kick cancers ass. You're so strong and have such a positive outlook on this situation. Obviously, I have had my fair share of medical issues with my MS diagnosis and it is very refreshing to see that you aren't tackling this horrible issue with a ton of negativity and depression. There are, of course, always going to be those days where you are negative and depressed but your blog is so uplifting.
    I wish you nothing but the best with everything you go through and I'm grateful that I know of your blog so I can stalk you through your treatment. You're a strong dude, you got this.
    I'll leave you with one thing - this is the journalist in me - your blog is so well written and that makes it very enjoyable (maybe not the correct word to use) to read.

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    1. Thank you for the kind words and feedback, Sam! I'm trying to stay upbeat and positive, but you are right. Some days simply suck.

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  2. I agree with Samantha... your blog is very well-written, Justin. I know it takes a lot of mental effort to write, and if I had cancer, writing would probably be the last thing I'd want to do. So thanks for putting in the effort to write and update your blog so often.

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    1. Thanks, Dave. I have a lot of the posts written ahead of time (I wrote all of the backstory as it was happening) so it makes it easier to focus on the Chemo Chronicles each week. That being said, Katie has been awesome in helping me get things up on time and edited.

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