Jason's
Story
I was diagnosed with stage II testicular cancer in 1988 at the age of
16. The course of action at that time was a left orchiectomy followed
by three rounds of chemotherapy. The hope was that the chemo would take
care of the enlarged lymph nodes. Stage II means the cancer has spread
beyond the testicle. Looking back, had I acted sooner, the cancer might
not have spread. I was 16 and sexually active, so when one of my
testicles began to swell, I thought I had an STD. I guess my hesitation
was a normal part of growing up and experimenting with sex. The truth,
although most never admit it, is YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT SEX REALLY MEANS
AT 16. Anyway, I waited weeks before telling anyone about my very
enlarged testicle.
While I was undergoing treatment, I kept up with my school work and
finished 11th grade. All was going well. The chemo seemed to have done
its job, and things were pretty much back to normal. I started 12th
grade, and not long after, I relapsed. Enlarged lymph nodes were
discovered on a routine CT scan. This time, my treatment would be far
more aggressive, and I had to drop out of high school my senior year. I
underwent a retroperitoneal lymph node dissection (RPLND), three rounds
of high-dose chemo, and a bone marrow transplant. Not to mention all of
the other small surgical procedures. About seven in total, but who's
counting? I would be lying if I said it wasn't that difficult. Life
while going through all of this is separated into good and bad days.
Some are good, some bad, but even a bad day can have drops of good in
it. You just may have to look for those. That concept is one that not
only helped me through my bout with cancer but has stayed with me to
this day. You see, there is good in everything, but it is not always
easily seen.
Following the three rounds of high-dose chemo, I was placed in the
transplant room. The transplant room is a sterile environment. Anyone
entering has to wear a cap, gown, mask and gloves -- like surgeons when
they operate. In most cases, the immune system is wiped out from the
high-dose chemo, so the transplant room is the only safe place until
the immune system comes back around. The way they re-infuse the marrow
is the same as getting blood. It is infused intravenously, no pain at
all. You get a strange taste in your mouth during the infusion, but
that goes away quickly. I have no words to describe this taste.
Everyone's length of stay is different. It all depends on how fast your
immune system comes back. For me, it was 21 days. Now keep in mind this
was pre-Internet. Not a whole lot to do in there. Visitors have to get
all dressed in cap, gown, etc., so there were only so many of them.
Thank God for my wonderful doctor and the nurses. They were the ones
that kept me sane during those days. When I was finally released from
my cell (so it seemed), there was a big sign hanging in the hallway put
up by the nurses. It read, "No sex for six months." Not that funny, but
I was treated in the children's section of the hospital. I still wonder
what the parents that read that sign must have been thinking.
I returned to high school the following year to finish up and graduate.
One of the single best events in my life happened that year. I met my
wife in government class. As I said, there is good in everything. If
not for cancer, I would have never met her or had our wonderful
daughter. March 2008, we will celebrate our 11th wedding anniversary.
We started dating February 15, 1991, and one of the first places I took
her was to the hospital. I had to have my mediport removed and asked
her if she would go with me. I wish I had a picture of her face.
As I was writing this, I realized it was 20 years ago I was diagnosed
and about 18 years ago that I finished treatment. I'm more then twice
my age when I was first diagnosed. I love life and enjoy each day. For
me the past 18 years have been a bonus, in a sense. When I relapsed, I
was told I had a 50/50 chance. I'm one of the lucky ones that was
blessed with the good 50%, and I live my life that way. I know one day
my luck will run out, but until that day I will (to quote Lance
Armstrong) "Live Strong."
Jason
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