So here’s the story… Part 1

Hey Everybody,

So, I never thought I’d ever have anything interesting enough in my life to blog about. I mean really, isn’t Facebook enough? 140 characters is all I’ve ever really needed to say what I need to say when a thought pops into my head that needs sharing, so the open format of a blog seems a bit self-indulgent and narcissistic to me. Ok, bullshit. If you know me then you know I’m not that humble and I do love an audience… so here goes.

I have cancer. Specifically I have Blastoid Mantle Cell Lymphoma. I found this out last Friday and have been trying to pull it together since then. Woah. As I read that sentence it seems like a fiction, I still can’t believe this is my life but here it is. If you really want to know what my disease is then I suggest you google it or look it up on wikipedia or something because I really don’t have a great understanding of it yet since I’m too scared to do either of those things and they have specifically told me not to. At this point though I guess I can tell you what I do know and how I got here.

So December 2010 I started working out with a trainer to shake up my workout routine and get hotter. (yup, hot-ER) I’ve been working out regularly for over 10 years now and I figured it was time to do things a little smarter so that I could make better use of the 10 hours/week I was putting in at LA Fitness. The workouts were great! I know this because I was in excruciating pain and barely able to walk so I figured I must be doing something right.

So just before New Years I noticed a tender little bump just above my junk (yeah, I said “my junk,” you know what I mean) that I thought might be a hernia. I had been using a lot of unfamiliar muscles in these new routines so I figured I just over-did it that day. No big deal right? So I go to my primary care doc a few days later to get him to check it out. I take down my cute red undies (my doc is hot you see, so I had to dress up for the occasion) and he says “Wow, great hernia! You need to go across the street to see my surgeon friend right now to get that taken care of, we don’t want it to go all gangrene.” My heart starts to race a bit, I’ve never had any medical problems before unless you count having mono in high school and wisdom teeth extraction in college. I thought this surgeon was gonna start cutting on one of my favorite parts of my body in the next few minutes! I had no time to prepare! Manscaping was not enough!

I get to the surgeon’s office with my blood pressure elevated and take down the cute undies again so this older and significantly less hot doc could take a tour of my naughty bits. “Nah, that’s no hernia” he says “that’s just an enlarged lymph node, it’s no big deal. Those things tend to be either nothing or some type of infection like cat scratch fever. There’s a tiny chance it could be tumor but that’s remote. Take this antibiotic (Bactrim) for a week and follow up with me in 3 weeks. If it’s completely gone by then you can just cancel the appointment. ”

“Whew! Great! Drugs not knives. I wonder if I can still drink on Bactrim?” I think to myself. You know I googled that shit on my iPhone immediately and was happy with the results. So I take my drugs religiously for the next week and take off from the gym just for good measure… any excuse to be a lazy bum. The bump goes down a small bit (I think) but blows right back up the day after I stop the antibiotic and get back in the gym.

I wait around for another few days to see what happens. At this point I’m still 2 weeks from my follow up appointment and I don’t want to be a pest or a hypochondriac, “Bitch be cool” I tell myself. By the end of the week though, my dad convinces me to call the doctor back just to see what he thinks since the bump (which I had officially named Ned at this point) was steadily getting larger and it seems that Ned Jr. was growing on the opposite side of the twig. I talk to the doc on a Friday and he says I can come in a little earlier if I want, but no worries if I wait another week. I decide to go in the following Monday just to be safe. I was already googling cancer at this point trying to freak myself out, so it seemed like it was time to go in for another look.

I get to the appointment and older less hot doc says “You have 3 options: we can do nothing, we can aspirate it (poke a hole with a needle and suck out some fluid), or we can do a biopsy. I would prefer to do option 3 since there is a 5% chance of tumor and an aspiration would probably not provide a large enough sample for the pathologist to read. A biopsy is a minor surgery with anesthesia that is done in an outpatient surgical center and will take a few days to recover from.” I tell him that I’m comfortable with the biopsy because at this point I just want to know what the hell this little guy is, growing up around a neighborhood he doesn’t belong in. Also, there might be fun drugs involved.

Surgery is set up for one week later at Piedmont Hospital, approximately 1 month after I first noticed Ned. I’m a little annoyed that I can’t do it any sooner but figure that if the doc isn’t in a rush then I shouldn’t worry. I tell my dad about it immediately and he thinks this is a good plan. Mom wants to come up for the event, but I tell her not to because this seems pretty minor and I don’t want her to worry… or baby me. Also, it’s surgery on my junk and I don’t want her tending to my junk.

A week goes by and I psych myself up for minor surgery, I really am kindof excited about it to be honest. I’ve never really had anything like this before and it seems interesting. Plus, narcotics right? Haven’t had those since my wisdom teeth were taken out and I’m certain that I could be a more skillful drug user at this point. (Sidebar: I’m not actually a drug/alcohol addict, I’m really just being kinda silly). My dear friend Michael Baker offers to take me to surgery, stay with me, and take me home.

So I get admitted to McDonnell Surgical Center and start bantering with the nurses as I trade my new 7-for-all-Mankinds for a lovely hospital gown that barely ties in the back. Baker is allowed back to my room and we play a little bit with Grindr to see what kind of trade we can pick up while we wait for the show to get started. The nurse starts an IV and gives me a bag of fluid. The anaesthesiologist comes and asks me a bunch of questions that I answer “no” to. The surgeon comes and gives Ned a shave (goodbye dignity by the way, it’s really just an elbow down there anyway) and tells me to relax and get ready.

I go in for the procedure and get Versed (the benzodiazepine, not the bible) which makes me loopy and then Fentanyl (anesthesia and/or Michael Jackson’s version of Unisom) which puts me right out. I sleep really really well until I wake up in the recovery area, disappointed that I have to rejoin the world of the living. Things get a little fuzzy at this point, but I’m sure there were instructions given about taking care of myself and taking pain medication.

Alright, this seems like a good start on the story and also a good stopping place for tonight. I’ll pick up again tomorrow and try to post updates to Facebook.

Goodnight my dears!