How? How was it that I got cancer? I really don’t have an answer for for that question.
It could have been genetic. It could have been environmental. Or it could have been [insert your own theory here or leave a comment with astute speculation].
Regardless, the “how” has become less important as I focus on overcoming the “what”: Stage II Gastric Cancer. However, I do find it cathartic to document the process that got me to this point.
I was born under a full moon in August of 1973…ok, I am not going to go back that far.
For the past couple of years, I have been dealing with stomach pain and discomfort. Patty and I thought I might be gluten- or lactose intolerance. The symptoms were never severe enough, though, to go see a doctor. That all changed this past January.
I had just completed a marathon (I don’t want to talk about my time…it wasn’t my best). In the post celebration activities, I got a spicy chicken waffle sandwich. Within minutes of eating that abomination delectable concoction, I began to experience the worst heartburn of my life. The burning persisted all night and into the next month.
I, like most men, am pretty stubborn. I think it was by my third bottle of Tums and countless doses of Pepto Bismol – chased with an occasional shot of Milk of Magnesia – that I figured I better go see a doctor. It also didn’t help that about the only thing I could eat without getting heart burns was white rice.
The first Dr appointment ended with me getting a prescription to Prilosec – a common antacid medication. And a recommendation to go to Walter Reed or Ft. Belvoir to get tested for something called H. Pylori…a stomach bacteria known to cause, amongst other things, ulcers and reflux pain.
The Prilosec helped a little. I didn’t go get the bacteria test because I would need to be off the meds for a couple of weeks for the test to be effective. But when the intensity of the heart burn returned a few weeks later, I went back to the Dr. This time I was given a stronger antacid medication called Protonic. I asked how long I would need to take the meds. When the Dr told me it my be for the rest of my life, I asked if there was some way to see what was going on in my belly…I didn’t want to have to take antacid pills for the rest of my life. The Dr gave me a referral to get an Endoscopy so a GI specialist could take a look and see what was going on; as a bonus, they could conduct the H. Pylori test while exploring my innards.
Fast forward six weeks or so, I finally got into the Ft. Belvoir hospital. I was hesitant to complete the Endoscopy as the Protonic med was working pretty good. Of course, I didn’t want to have to keep taking it, so it was swallow-the-camera time!
The procedure went well. I was sedated and really don’t remember anything after being wheeled into the room. The next thing I knew, Patty and Ian were in the recovery area and the nurse said I could get dressed when I felt I could get out of the bed.
After I was dressed, we asked the nurse if there was anything else we needed to do. She said, “No,” and that I could leave. We assumed the Dr would have come into the room if there was an issue and would just call with the results in a couple of days.
We had just gotten to our car when my cell phone rang. It was the Dr asking why we left and that she need me to come back to talk. As we sat in her office, the furthest thing from my mind was what came out of her mouth.
“We found something during the Endoscopy. The cancer, I mean, the growth is around an ulcer. We did a biopsy, but it won’t be back for a week. I need to go to the lab for blood work and then go get a CAT scan. If the biopsy comes back as positive, we’ll have to transfer you to Walter Reed for immediate care. If it is negative, we’ll meet to discuss care options.”
The gravity of the situation hit us both, leaving us near speechless and suddenly filled with dread. As we jumped around the hospital from test to test, we had to find someone to take care of Scarlett who was just getting home from school.
By the time we finished all the testing, the hospital day staff was going home. We couldn’t find the Dr anywhere. Luckily, while leaving the GI section, we bumped into her in the hallway.
“What do we do next?” Wait…that is all we could do for now.
A few days later, the Dr called to say the CAT came back clean. No cancer or tumors in any other part of my body. She concluded saying that the biopsy should be back any day now.
I felt so relieved after that call. So did Patty. It was short lived, though.
Work required me to travel to Colorado for a 1-day conference. I left the day I received the news about the CAT scan. Upon my return back home I received a call while at the Denver airport. The Dr reminded me of the post-Endoscopy discussion. Without saying that I have cancer, she simply stated that she has referred my case to Walter Reed and a medical oncologist and surgical oncologist would be calling me soon.
May 23, 2019. The day I became a cancer patient. The day I started to become a survivor. Follow my journey at twentythreefive.
Twentythree/5 