Just had my last meal before surgery - Caren made a super homemade pizza - and I downed it with about 55 gallons of water and some pop since I don't get to have any liquids either.
Admittedly, I am a little anxious (who wouldn't be), but I feel positive about how things will go. Leon is not too thrilled with the whole situation, but he will get over it - heck, he doesn't have much of a choice now, does he?
We will hit the IU Hospital pretty early, check in, and then in a couple of hours I will be on the table sleeping like a babe. Then it is off to recovery for three or four hours, and then Caren and I will head home. With any luck, Caren will not have to drive home during rush hour in Indianapolis. If she does, she has her Mario Andretti hat and will be ready to take on anyone. Pray to God no "ROAD RAGE" kicks in, as you don't want to piss Caren off while she is driving!
Thanks for all the notes and messages of good health and best wishes. I will update everyone here as soon as I am able to let you know that I am fine (maybe Tuesday morning?). Until then, remember what Caren and I often say, "If I don't hear from you, I will assume no news is good news."
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Saturday, June 28, 2008
A Poem
Anon E. Moose, a friend from Iowa, sent this poem to me as a way to cheer me up as her town begins to deal with the horrendous task of cleaning up from the Iowa floods.
There once was a cancer named Dion
Who attacked Matt's friend Leon
On Leon he hopped
So he had to be stopped
Dion will be gone and Matt will move on
Matt's prognosis is great
Caren's help is first rate
Matt thinks his doctors are tops
Soon no more raindrops
And Matt and Caren will celebrate
Whew the rain will soon end
Matt will be on the mend
This bad poem will be done.
Matt and Caren have won!
And Matt will cheer with his friends!
Anon E. Moose will be the first to admit the poem is not stellar, but in my book it gets the Pulitzer.
There once was a cancer named Dion
Who attacked Matt's friend Leon
On Leon he hopped
So he had to be stopped
Dion will be gone and Matt will move on
Matt's prognosis is great
Caren's help is first rate
Matt thinks his doctors are tops
Soon no more raindrops
And Matt and Caren will celebrate
Whew the rain will soon end
Matt will be on the mend
This bad poem will be done.
Matt and Caren have won!
And Matt will cheer with his friends!
Anon E. Moose will be the first to admit the poem is not stellar, but in my book it gets the Pulitzer.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
In Good Company
Who knew I was in such great company with the whole testicular cancer thing? It seems that Hsing-Hsing (pictured) was diagnosed with testicular cancer and underwent surgery in 1997. If you are not familiar with Hsing-Hsing, he is the mate of the slightly more famous Ling-Ling - one time panda bears at the National Zoo. Hsing-Hsing lived out a normal and happy life after his surgery until his death in 1999. For those of you unfamiliar with the two pandas, they came to the United States from the Chinese government in 1972 as a way to commemorate Nixon's visit.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
The Waiting Game
The waiting for the surgery that keeps getting moved is, at best, a little tedious. The surgery now is set for Monday, June 30, at 7:30 AM. Luckily, I believe, I am taking the wait better than Leon – for obvious reasons. I spoke to a friend of mine from Ohio in the whole doctor (I think I can call her that and not upset the AMA) and hospital business, and she said scheduling surgery can often be a major pain in the neck, so I shouldn’t worry about it, and that the doctor wants to get me in there as much as I want to get it done.
However, the wait eats away at you just a little, but then you get your act together and go on with what needs to be done.
Speaking of what needs to be done . . . Caren and I have used this event to get some things taken care of that we should have taken care of a long time ago. I was always ready to do it, but Caren didn’t want to do it so much, but she said, “It is time for me to put on my Big Girl pants and do this!” We sat down and each made a will, did Power of Attorney, and did a Medical Power of Attorney. If you have not done all of these yet, do so. It doesn’t take much time, and is easy to do. Admittedly, I am not expecting anything drastic to happen, but I just like to have all my bases covered. As Caren says on occasion, “Being a grown up sucks!”
You have to admit, she is kind of right.
However, the wait eats away at you just a little, but then you get your act together and go on with what needs to be done.
Speaking of what needs to be done . . . Caren and I have used this event to get some things taken care of that we should have taken care of a long time ago. I was always ready to do it, but Caren didn’t want to do it so much, but she said, “It is time for me to put on my Big Girl pants and do this!” We sat down and each made a will, did Power of Attorney, and did a Medical Power of Attorney. If you have not done all of these yet, do so. It doesn’t take much time, and is easy to do. Admittedly, I am not expecting anything drastic to happen, but I just like to have all my bases covered. As Caren says on occasion, “Being a grown up sucks!”
You have to admit, she is kind of right.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Medicine at Its Best
Some of you have emailed and asked how bad my lump is. I was able to get a copy of my ultrasound from Dr. Beck. Here is the picture he gave me that best represents Leon!
Friday, June 20, 2008
A Matter of Perspective
At times, it is difficult to be calm, cool, and collected. I received a phone call a few minutes before 5:00 this afternoon from Trish, Dr. Beck’s secretary. Dr. Beck wanted to cancel my surgery on Monday. Seems he forgot to tell me on Tuesday to quit taking my Plavix (a blood thinner) so I have been taking it all this week, not knowing the wiser. Caren even confirmed that he did not tell me to quit taking it, as she sat there with her trusty note pad and bright pink Sharpie taking notes while Dr. Beck acted like a hummingbird on crack! Turns out this would have caused some major issues on Monday. Not wanting me to “bleed out” on the table on Monday, he pulled me from the surgery schedule, and it looks like Friday, June 27, will be Leon’s last day with us. Me? I am a little irked. Leon, well, all I can say he is no longer singing the Blues.
Part of me is frustrated, as I mentally had my mind prepared for Monday. I mean I know that four days is not going to make a difference at all in the whole scheme of things, but still, when you have it in your head the battle for your very life begins on a certain day, having that date suddenly changed is a bit unnerving.
So, I begin the battle for my life on Friday, June 27, 2008! Now mind you, Trish is going to call on Monday to let me know if she was able to get that date confirmed, so who knows by Monday what the actual date might be.
All in all, it doesn’t really matter. I’m not going anywhere. The cancer is not going anywhere. And most importantly, Leon is not going anywhere.
With that said, I have to say I met a woman a little bit more than a week ago who has helped me put things in perspective. As some of you know, I occasionally read grant proposals for the United States Department of Education. It is a fascinating experience just to go through the whole process. I receive a box of about 12 proposals. I read them and then I score them in certain categories. Then I get online and enter my scores and comments in the D.O.E.’s program that manages all of their grants and proposals. During all of this, I work with one or two other people on my “panel” reviewing the same proposals and then we have an impartial panel moderator who acts as babysitter to make sure we talk things out if our scores differ drastically, and the moderator also handles all the paperwork and logistics of the whole review process. Okay, I am really digressing here.
Anyway, this past review (finished this morning about 10:00) I worked with Karen, a superintendent from Iowa. Karen’s school district is located down stream to the south and to the west of Cedar Rapids. One day before getting together for a conference call, Karen had been out sandbagging the downtown area. Before the next conference call, she had spent the morning cooking hundreds and hundreds of eggs for the National Guard helping with the sandbagging and flood control. Now mind you, the National Guard had already taken over one of her school’s for their “headquarters” and staging area. Karen even met for a conference call while the town and National Guard were sandbagging one of her schools! The waters are NOT expected to crest in her area until Sunday – and the rain they are expected to get today and tomorrow will not help. But in all of this, Karen was extra worried about me. While I was amazed she was still doing these grant reviews, she was amazed I was doing the grant reviews.
It is funny how a little perspective can alter your own reality.
Part of me is frustrated, as I mentally had my mind prepared for Monday. I mean I know that four days is not going to make a difference at all in the whole scheme of things, but still, when you have it in your head the battle for your very life begins on a certain day, having that date suddenly changed is a bit unnerving.
So, I begin the battle for my life on Friday, June 27, 2008! Now mind you, Trish is going to call on Monday to let me know if she was able to get that date confirmed, so who knows by Monday what the actual date might be.
All in all, it doesn’t really matter. I’m not going anywhere. The cancer is not going anywhere. And most importantly, Leon is not going anywhere.
With that said, I have to say I met a woman a little bit more than a week ago who has helped me put things in perspective. As some of you know, I occasionally read grant proposals for the United States Department of Education. It is a fascinating experience just to go through the whole process. I receive a box of about 12 proposals. I read them and then I score them in certain categories. Then I get online and enter my scores and comments in the D.O.E.’s program that manages all of their grants and proposals. During all of this, I work with one or two other people on my “panel” reviewing the same proposals and then we have an impartial panel moderator who acts as babysitter to make sure we talk things out if our scores differ drastically, and the moderator also handles all the paperwork and logistics of the whole review process. Okay, I am really digressing here.
Anyway, this past review (finished this morning about 10:00) I worked with Karen, a superintendent from Iowa. Karen’s school district is located down stream to the south and to the west of Cedar Rapids. One day before getting together for a conference call, Karen had been out sandbagging the downtown area. Before the next conference call, she had spent the morning cooking hundreds and hundreds of eggs for the National Guard helping with the sandbagging and flood control. Now mind you, the National Guard had already taken over one of her school’s for their “headquarters” and staging area. Karen even met for a conference call while the town and National Guard were sandbagging one of her schools! The waters are NOT expected to crest in her area until Sunday – and the rain they are expected to get today and tomorrow will not help. But in all of this, Karen was extra worried about me. While I was amazed she was still doing these grant reviews, she was amazed I was doing the grant reviews.
It is funny how a little perspective can alter your own reality.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
The History: For Those Who Don't Know
Let me begin by saying that there is no funny or cute e-card that says, “Hey, I have cancer!” Believe me, I have looked. So this will have to do, and by the way, “Hey, I have cancer!”
About two weeks ago I found a marble sized lump and went to my doctor on the following Monday. She scheduled an ultrasound for me on Thursday of last week, and from that, all indications pointed toward testicular cancer. Caren and I went to the Indiana University Hospital in Indianapolis this afternoon, and the diagnosis was confirmed.
Caren and I were very impressed with the doctors at IU. I am working with the same team of doctors who treated Lance Armstrong, so I feel like I am in good hands. Dr. Beck (my lead doctor in all of this) sent me for a bunch of blood tests (looking for certain markers in the blood to help indicate what type of mass he is dealing with) and then I had an EKG and a chest x-ray (for the anesthesiologist), as surgery is required. My surgery is scheduled for early Monday morning.
The surgery is outpatient surgery. Dr. Beck will make a two to four inch incision on my left hip - a little bit lower than where my belt rests – then go down and remove Leon (what I have named my left testicle) through the incision. Then Leon goes off to pathology, and I go home.
Once the pathologists have a chance to look at Leon and dissect him, Caren and I will go back to the IU Hospital for more tests (most likely an MRI and CT scan) to see how far things have progressed, to determine what stage the cancer is, and to decide if chemotherapy and radiation therapy are necessary (at this time, all indications are that they will most likely be needed).
So there things are in a nutshell. Dr. Beck is great, and he has a fantastic sense of humor (he even began to refer to things as “Leon”). There is no “good” cancer, but testicular cancer and its treatment has a 95%-98% success rate, so Caren and I are keeping our hopes up that I fall in that category.
About two weeks ago I found a marble sized lump and went to my doctor on the following Monday. She scheduled an ultrasound for me on Thursday of last week, and from that, all indications pointed toward testicular cancer. Caren and I went to the Indiana University Hospital in Indianapolis this afternoon, and the diagnosis was confirmed.
Caren and I were very impressed with the doctors at IU. I am working with the same team of doctors who treated Lance Armstrong, so I feel like I am in good hands. Dr. Beck (my lead doctor in all of this) sent me for a bunch of blood tests (looking for certain markers in the blood to help indicate what type of mass he is dealing with) and then I had an EKG and a chest x-ray (for the anesthesiologist), as surgery is required. My surgery is scheduled for early Monday morning.
The surgery is outpatient surgery. Dr. Beck will make a two to four inch incision on my left hip - a little bit lower than where my belt rests – then go down and remove Leon (what I have named my left testicle) through the incision. Then Leon goes off to pathology, and I go home.
Once the pathologists have a chance to look at Leon and dissect him, Caren and I will go back to the IU Hospital for more tests (most likely an MRI and CT scan) to see how far things have progressed, to determine what stage the cancer is, and to decide if chemotherapy and radiation therapy are necessary (at this time, all indications are that they will most likely be needed).
So there things are in a nutshell. Dr. Beck is great, and he has a fantastic sense of humor (he even began to refer to things as “Leon”). There is no “good” cancer, but testicular cancer and its treatment has a 95%-98% success rate, so Caren and I are keeping our hopes up that I fall in that category.
Reasoning
I am doing this as a way to keep all of you informed as to what is going on with me as I go through this whole cancer thing. This way, I can write things once, and not have to call or email so many of you. Don't be offended. I am just doing it this way, as I think I might have some days ahead when I don't feel like writing or talking to anyone.
In all honesty, it is also a way for me to deal with what I am feeling inside. If I said I wasn't scared, worried, or nervous, that would be a lie. Those feelings do creep in to my thoughts from time to time, but I am amazed at how rarely they stay. For the most part, I just deal with it and take things one day at a time. I have already realized that it will do absolutely no good to worry about it, get mad about it, or feel sorry for myself. None of that will make the cancer go away.
I hope my future writings give you some laughs - it is laughter and a great sense of humor that I know is going to get me through this ordeal. Well, that and Caren, and all the good thoughts and prayers I get from all of you.
I have already realized that it will do absolutely no good to worry about it, get mad about it, or feel sorry for myself. None of that will make the cancer go away.
What will make the cancer go away is the support and love I will get from all of you.
In all honesty, it is also a way for me to deal with what I am feeling inside. If I said I wasn't scared, worried, or nervous, that would be a lie. Those feelings do creep in to my thoughts from time to time, but I am amazed at how rarely they stay. For the most part, I just deal with it and take things one day at a time. I have already realized that it will do absolutely no good to worry about it, get mad about it, or feel sorry for myself. None of that will make the cancer go away.
I hope my future writings give you some laughs - it is laughter and a great sense of humor that I know is going to get me through this ordeal. Well, that and Caren, and all the good thoughts and prayers I get from all of you.
I have already realized that it will do absolutely no good to worry about it, get mad about it, or feel sorry for myself. None of that will make the cancer go away.
What will make the cancer go away is the support and love I will get from all of you.
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