In case you're coming in mid-stream: Previously on "GI Junk"...
Over the weekend, I became an anxiety riddled hermit with an internet research and vodka addiction. I absorbed as much information I could on the potential for testicular cancer, the possible prognosis, how they might narrow it down and whether or not I would die from a faulty ball. It's amazing what the mind does when it doesn't have answers. When I wasn't researching different types of cancer, I was marveling at some of the stories that people told about their similar struggle. It made me feel good and it made me feel prepared for my consult.
I was told that the Urologist at Urology Associates fit me into his schedule late on Monday. As I arrived at 4:00 PM, two things occurred to me:
1) I was the youngest one in the waiting room by at least 30 years and it felt like everyone was wondering who I was there to console; 2) Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god.
Dr Peregrine is known for his sight, not his hands (source: Internets)
Apparently, there was an emergency surgery just prior to my arrival so there was a long-expected delay. That gave me plenty time to research my doctor and browse Reddit. While I was already told all the doctors at this clinic were top notch, it appeared to me like mine was great. Internship at Mayo, Director of Urology at Abbott, lots of experience, seemed top notch. That made me feel better. So did the daily ridiculousness of the internet.
At around 5, I was finally asked back for my consult. Right out of the gate, I liked my Doctor. He was to the point but not overly blunt. We brought up the ultrasound images and he explained what was going on in my coin purse. Medically speaking, the ultrasound showed a 2.5 cm growth on my right testicle. As far as tumors go, "It looks good, unbroken, etc. That's all good."
(Here's my ultrasound. Fair warning, it's a sonar image of my cancery gonad.)
He then turned to me to explain the score, "Michael, if you could have a meeting with god, he'd tell you he has some bad news and some good news for you. The bad news: You're going to have cancer at some point in your life. The good news: you can choose which cancer. Might I recommend testicular?"
That made me smile. At least it was unorthodox.
He continued on, "No, seriously. Testicular Cancer is extremely treatable and ultimately curable in most cases. We won't know for sure until we're able to get the pathology done but you're going to have to go through a procedure called Radical Orchiectomy"
Spoiler alert: you don't leave the hospital with sunglasses and a skateboard. In layman's terms, they're going to take the tumor out with the testicle and then biopsy it. So I have that going for me. Would have preferred skateboard feet, to be honest.
The surgery was scheduled for August 30th at 5:30 AM for Check-in. On Tuesday, I would have to get a pre-op physical, blood tests and CT Scan to see if the cancer had spread. That was a whirlwind of a day, at the end of which I packed a bag for a few nights at my parent's place for recovery.
I didn't sleep much that night. It was too difficult thinking about the implications of the surgery. 3 hrs of sleep or not, 5:30 AM rolled around very slowly.
But first, a brief note on telling people from earlier that night.
