Death to Chemo
Today is a special day as I write this entry sitting in my chemo station overlooking downtown Grand Rapids for the last time (maybe). Well, at least the last time I’ll be sitting here to get a chemo treatment.
This day brings with it a unique type of excitement. Of all the things to be excited about, hair growth is at the top of the list. In the three weeks since my last treatment, my hair, eyebrows, and eyelashes have started to grow back in. While they'll probably thin out again from this treatment, it gives me a lot of encouragement that the regrowth process will start quickly. Because let’s be honest, looking like the understudy from "Powder" wasn’t doing my self-esteem any favors. June was a tough month mentally as the reflection I saw in the mirror became a shell of who I used to be. It’s hard to not be able to recognize yourself.
Since my last entry, I owe some updates on the health front. I got my PET scan results and met with a pulmonologist. There’s a mass on my right lung and I have calcifications in my lungs and spleen. The good news? They don’t think it’s cancer, but they will be monitoring it to make sure there are no changes, so I have another CT scheduled in 6 months. The calcifications are due to granulomatous disease from a fungal infection at some point in my past. The even better news? While they were able to identify the cause, there is no active infection so no additional treatment is necessary. Apparently, this is something that a lot of people have but just never get diagnosed. Who knew? Lucky me, winning the medical lottery over here.
This past week, the Fore The Fight golf outing happened and blew any expectation that I had out of the water. I’m so thankful to everyone who made the event such a success, and especially to Tony and Amber for having the idea and taking it on. Amber even had to slap my hand and ward off the control freak in me to let her handle things. I listened. It was a really special and cool experience to watch all of the people in my world collide. The sponsors, golfers, and volunteers were a mix of friends (new and old), family, and my personal and professional network. Our identities are made up of all the roles that we fill, and usually those identities are independent of one another, so it was special to see them all come together.
As I wrap up chemo, the next step is surgery. On July 22, I will be having a double mastectomy—bye bye, boobies! During that surgery, they will also do a sentinel node biopsy where they will remove my affected lymph node and a few others, then test those intraoperatively. If there is still cancer, they will perform an axillary node dissection. If there is no cancer, the sentinel nodes are all they will take. Then they will put tissue expanders into my breast pocket to prepare for my future exchange surgery and put me back together. I’ll explain more of the ins and outs of the surgery as we get closer, but the crazy part is that after this surgery they send me home THE SAME DAY. Nothing says “modern medicine” like major surgery with a same-day checkout.
I remain in really high spirits about everything and am really looking forward to a life without chemo, although I will seriously miss seeing my nurse Leah. The Cancer & Hematology Center has become a special place for me. I remember shortly after I was diagnosed when I was brought down there to get oriented I remember feeling out of place and like I didn’t belong there. Now, it’s the only place I go where I’m surrounded by people like me. Today as I was sitting in reception waiting to get called back I was thinking to myself, “I love seeing so many other bald heads walking around, these are my people!” Funny how perspectives shift over time.
Speaking of perspective, attitude is everything! Sounds corny, I know… but stay with me. I have a strong belief that I have tolerated chemo so well because of my attitude and the support network that I’ve built through my transparency about my diagnosis. As terrifying as a cancer diagnosis can be, I was determined to turn this into a positive. That said, the outpouring of support and the way this community has shown up for me has been one of the most rewarding things I’ve experienced in my life. Had it not been for this diagnosis, I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to experience this type of joy.
Life throws curveballs, and sometimes they come in the form of cancer. But it's in these moments that we discover the strength we didn't know we had and the incredible capacity of our communities to lift us up. Remember to prioritize your health, lean on your support systems, and make sure the people in your life know you care. You never know just how powerful a network of love and encouragement can be until you need it most.