The end of radiation

Jeff is now recovering from treatment and many ask how we are doing. We are doing well, but there is so much to that wellness that I never know how much to say. I'm unsure of what friends need or want to know, but some very dear friends deserve to know. Warning: it's a little long, so pick and choose if you like.


THE FACTS

• Jeff was diagnosed with testicular cancer on Oct. 9th.
• He had surgery to remove tumor and offending testicle on Oct. 13th.
• Tests determined stage and pathology of cancer was stage 1 seminoma.
• He began radiation treatment on Nov. 10th.
• Radiation consisted of a 5 min treatment targeting the lymph nodes in the abdomen and back, done every weekday (except Thanksgiving)
• He underwent 15 radiation treatments and finished on Dec. 2.
• He should now be cancer free (fingers crossed)

THE FEELINGS

We have experienced a little fear, a little sadness, a little loneliness, a little anxiety and frustration.

We have experienced a lot of surprise--who knew that Jeff would get cancer at 32 and that we would be able to handle it.

A lot of humor--apparently, having a testicle removed can be funny, especially to Jeff. Nut jokes abound. He also got his first tattoos. Only little pin-pricks to mark where the machines needed to line up, but we found it pretty funny. We joke that he was like an old man, or a pregnant woman with all the effects of radiation. And vicodin makes him a little silly.

A lot of pain--even though Jeff's prognosis was very good, cancer is still a dirty word. Testicular cancer in and of itself causes general malaise and a constant ache in the lower back. The aftermath of surgery is painful. Recovery is slow and the incision is still tender sometimes. Despite the fact that radiation only lasts a small amount of time, it still kills cells. Bad and good ones. Because of where they targeted the radiation, Jeff had constant nausea, occasional vomiting, and bowel issues. He lost about 12 pounds over the course of four weeks. At the worst of it, he said he felt like he couldn't wake up from a bad dream. Watching someone you love hurting also hurts.

A lot of tired--cancerous husband + pregnant wife + young children = sleepless nights. Jeff was crazy enough to go to work everyday during radiation. He says he didn't have a choice, but he probably could have had one if he really wanted it. Radiation sucks the energy out of you.

A lot of love--we have so many good friends and family who helped us with the kids or food or were just there to laugh with us. And so many offered prayers on our behalf. We love you for loving us. I know it's cheesy but my husband and children are more precious to me than ever. The thought of losing any of them hurts my heart.

A lot of comfort--hope has been our constant companion. We never felt despair. A little fear and worry, but never despair. People would often ask me how I was doing and the truth was that I was fine. I don't usually get faithy on my blog because I don't want to trivialize my deepest feelings. But our faith is inextricably linked to everything we have experienced. We have felt the constant comfort of the Holy Ghost and uplifting power of the Savior Jesus Christ during the last two months. So thank you for your prayers. They have truly worked.

Most of all, gratitude has been the prevailing emotion in my life the last two months. Gratitude for insurance (Jeff's doctor's bills amounted to roughly $75k and we only had a small deductible in comparison), gratitude to competent doctors and nurses. His treatments were done at one of the six leading cancer treatment centers in the nation. And it's only 20 minutes from our house. Jeff met some patients that traveled across state lines just to go to that hospital. Gratitude for curable cancer. Gratitude for an understanding employer. Gratitude for friends. Gratitude for family--I don't think you will ever know how much we love and appreciate you. Gratitude for sweet healthy children that kept us grounded. Gratitude for marriage. And gratitude to God. He knew Jeff would get cancer. He didn't prevent it from happening, but he provided a way for us to detect it and overcome it. He is well aware of everything in our lives. Six months ago when we decided, in a totally uncharacteristic move, to have another baby, we didn't know that four months later Jeff would get sick. We didn't know that his doctors would tell him that due to the effects of the treatment, he shouldn't have children for the next two years. We didn't know any of that, but God did and He knew that even though the timing was different than we would choose, we still wanted more children. And therefore we are pregnant. Lucky for me, I'm in my second trimester--not the nauseating first, or the hugely uncomfortable third. I am in a physical and emotional state to manage what I need to manage. I can't ignore nor deny the hand of a loving Heavenly Father in our life. So more than anything, I am thankful to God.

The "Official" Diagnosis

Friday, Oct. 23. Jeff and I met with his urologist and got the pathology report from the tumor they removed, as well as the results from his blood tests. Everything confirmed that he had a seminoma tumor. The cancer is stage 1. What all this means for us is that the doctors believe the cancer did not spread anywhere else and that he will undergo radiation therapy to make sure it is all gone. This is good news.

We thought all along that he had a non-seminoma tumor because they tend to be more aggressive in nature and more prevalent in men his age. We also thought he would have chemotherapy, not radiation because non-seminoma tumors do not respond to radiation. Apparently radiation is a better route because it is actually a proven cure, whereas chemo is still experimental and slightly more inconvenient. Seminoma tumors are slower growing and occur more often in older men. This confirms our suspicions that Jeff is just an old man...

His treatments will probably start this Thursday if they can squeeze in an appointment and will hopefully finish before Thanksgiving.

I just wanted to update a little. I promise I will post again...

I was never meant to be a nurse

and I'll tell you why...

My husband recently went under the knife. Last Friday, his urologist confirmed that the suspicious lump on a certain body part was indeed a tumor, and that it needed to be removed asap. On Tuesday this week he had a right radical inguinal orchiectomy. I could just say that they took out his right testicle, but I really like big words. Plus if you say it ten times fast--well, you can't say it ten times fast.

Surgery went well and while he was in recovery I was trying to help him stand, which he did just fine. He swayed a little back and forth, but he didn't fall. No, it was me who almost fell. Granted, I am pregnant and we were in a small room perfumed with way too much air freshener and he was swaying. So I could never be a nurse. Back in 2001 when he had shoulder surgery I had to call his mother to help clean his wound because the sight of blood sent me heaving. I don't think he will appreciate me having to call his mother this time.

He is doing well post-surgery and so are we. The doctor says it is a 99.9% chance that the tumor is cancerous. Next week, after more procedures and testing, we will have a better idea of what we are dealing with. Instead of hoping on that 0.1% chance that it is non-cancerous, we are hoping that we caught it early and that any post-operative chemo will be minimal. We are optimistic and very grateful to friends and family.

On the more positive side of things, we think we are having a girl--if the ultrasound technician is right. We weren't too surprised. The girls were a little. "But, mom. We have too many girls." At least we won't have to buy anything new. Plus if we have a boy that is anything like his father, he would need a nurse for a mother with all the potential bruising and cuts and scrapes. And apparently I'm not the nursing type.