If You’re Going To Get Cancer, This One’s The One To Get
“We won’t know for certain until we take it out and test it, but in my experience and looking at these images you’ve got testicular cancer. Since we won’t know until it’s tested we have to move forward with your treatment as if it is cancer.”
I stood there in my urologist’s office, fighting back the tears as he was explaining my situation to me. I had heard of testicular cancer, but I basically didn’t know anything about it beyond that it was cancer in your balls. I was beginning to become overwhelmed with the growing confusion and fear inside of me. I stared at his computer screen as my vision continued to blur with the tears I refused to let fall.
He explained that I would need to get some blood drawn and a CT scan before getting my surgery to remove my right testicle. This was to see where my blood marker levels were at before the surgery, and would give us a starting point for post surgery monitoring. After my surgery he recommended that I go to a sperm bank and freeze some sperm because I might need chemotherapy, and chemotherapy can cause some fertility issues. The chemo and sperm banking would mostly depend on what the pathology results come back as.
“Just so you know, this can be a scary journey. You’re more than welcome to bring your family members along with you for support.”
This moment stood out to me because up until this point I hadn’t really thought about bringing my loved ones with me to my appointments. The last time someone came to a doctor’s appointment with me was back in high school before I could drive myself anywhere. It was also the first time I realized that I wasn’t in this fight alone. I’ve always felt that you weren’t “a real man” if you couldn’t handle things on your own. I’m not saying that this is a good way of thinking or even going about life, but that’s how I’ve carried myself for a long time. I never liked to ask for help, at some point in my life I got this mentality stuck in my head and I never questioned it. I’d keep my problems and issues to myself and not talk about anything going on in my life. (Now look at me, blogging about my testicles!) I have to thank Shannon for helping me get out of this habit of mine. She’s pushed me to grow as a person and to better myself, and I don’t know where I’d be without her.
“I know I’ve just given you a lot to process, but do you have any questions for me right now?”
“This is probably a stupid question, but ever since my right testicle started growing I feel like my left one has kind of shrunk. I don’t know if its just in my head, but is the left one doing okay?”
“Yes your left testicle is fine, I touch roughly 30 testicles a day, I know what a healthy testicle feels like.”
I’ll admit, even though I was still fighting tears at this point, I chuckled when he said that.
As he was walking me out of his office, down the hall to get my CT scan scheduled, he shook my hand and said “I know this is scary, but if you’re going to get cancer, this one’s the one to get. There’s a lot worse cancers out there.” I definitely wasn’t expecting to hear such an interesting take on cancer.
The receptionist told me they had to wait until my insurance approves the CT scan orders, so to give them a call back in the next day or so to get my “rushed CT scan” scheduled sooner than later. I finally get into my truck and I call Shannon to tell her how the appointment went. I couldn’t really get the words out then, and I didn’t really want to have to say it over the phone either. As I was driving home, I decided to stop by my parents house to tell my mother in person about how the appointment went. When I get there, she wasn’t home, but instead I was greeted by my brother who told me she was still at her dentist appointment. As I was about to leave, I felt a vibrating in my pocket, so I pulled my phone out, and it was my dad calling me. I hit the accept button.
“Henry, how’d the appointment go?”
“I…he said…I have cancer. What if…what if I can’t have kids?”
That’s when I broke down. I started to cry right there in my parent’s kitchen, in the house where I grew up. You see my biggest fear wasn’t about me and my health. I knew I could handle whatever I had to go through for treatment. I wasn’t going to roll over and give up. My greatest fear out of all of this was whether I would still be able to have kids. Deep down all I’ve ever truly wanted to be, was a father. I’ve always wanted to have kids, and now almost 2 months after I proposed to the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, that very dream of having a family was being threatened.
Back in his office, my urologist had explained to me that even after the orchiectomy, which is what the kind of surgery to remove a single testicle is called, the remaining testicle would be able to do the work of 2 testicles and still produce sperm in order to have a family. I understood this, but there was still a chance of it spreading, which is why the CT scan was needed. The CT scan of my pelvic, abdomen, and chest areas would show if the cancer was spreading, and to where it was spreading. He had told me that testicular cancer is a very predictable cancer, and where it spreads is very well mapped out in the human body, so we’ll know exactly where and what to look for the signs of spreading.
After waiting a few more minutes at my parents house, I continue heading home to Shannon. When I get home, I just hug and hold her. I bury my face into her shoulder and I cry. I explain to her what the urologist told me. I tell her all of my fears about our future and our chances of having children. She just holds me and tells me everything is alright and that she’s there for me.