one year ago today
today, i celebrate a different kind of anniversary.
where were you on july 23, 2009?
me? at this time one year ago, i was probably in a room after having my right kidney removed from my body by dr. brian k. wade. turns out that kidney had been housing a malignant mass for who knows how long. also turns out that i ended up being one of the "lucky ones". i was lucky, in that, for whatever reason, those perverted cells that made up that mass had not yet decided to go exploring in the rest of my body. the friday after the surgery, dr. wade came into my room and told me it was "completely contained" and also told me to "celebrate".
a year later, i don't know if i've let myself celebrate. for the first six weeks, post-surgery, it was all about the physical recovery. getting back into shape after having been cut into was a new, long and painful process i had never done before. after three weeks, i went back to work. after six, i started lifting and exercising again. looking back, the surgery and the physical recovery was the easy part.
then came the demons. after i started getting back into my normal life-ly routines, i started worrying. i've always been good at worrying, but now i felt like i really had something to worry about. after all, i just had freaking cancer removed from me. surely the doctors had missed some of those perverted cells moving somewhere, right? in my mind, i was convinced that the answer to that question was "yes".
i was dizzy all the time. i started seeing floaters. so, in the first six months leading up to my first follow up ct, i went to the eye doctor and had my eyes checked for tumors there. no tumors. just floaters. i also went into my primary care doctor's office, cried like a baby and allowed them to schedule a "peace of mind" scan on my head so that we could rule out a brain tumor. no tumors. just anxiety. i went to therapy three times for the anxiety. learned the "is it possible? yes. probable? no." mantra.
six months passed. i went back to see dr. wade, again knowing full well that my first follow-up scan was going to show something bad. it didn't. neither did the chest x-ray. by this time, i had been prescribed and started taking lexapro to help fight off the demons. it helped. time helped. all the clean scans helped. the no tumors in my eyes report helped. and i started acting like the crappy human being that i am again.
i plugged back into church. we got limbo off the ground. my store became a point of pride again. things started feeling..."normal". two weeks ago today, i went back for my year-out visit. the scan looked good again. they saw something in one of my lungs. but then, they didn't. i had a chest scan. clean there too.
is it time to celebrate?
maybe it is. i still worry. this week, i started the process of weaning myself off the lexapro. can't take that shit forever. we'll see how good i've got at coping with the demons on my own.
today, a full year removed from my surgery, sarah and i are heading to gatlinburg. it'll be my first trip there since late 1999 when i took a few youth there to see gay-ass josh mcdowell and the columbine crosses (that part was actually kind of moving) at some youth praise-all-things-that-came-from-jesus-which-is-everything gathering.
today, we are going to travel somewhere without children for more than one night for the first time since 2002. it is going to be weird. we hope it's relaxing. and fun.
it's been a helluva year. here's to many, many, many more (without cancer).
12 comments:
I'm so glad to celebrate with you. That trip was scary for all of us. Even though you and I do a horribly crappy job of seeing each other on any kind of regular basis I still consider you a close and dear friend and wouldn't want to imagine the world without you. I appreciate your honest in sharing your "demons" with the rest of us and the strength you've shown in getting through all of this. Much love to you and Sarah. Have a great weekend and, yes, celebrate.
im too lazy to make a google account, so .....i had no idea you had gone through all that when i came to visit the store during christmas break, im glad i know such a strong individual,you would have to be one to still be the same fun-loving person after an experience like that. Have fun celebrating!!!!!
with love, beandon
p.s. the peeing blood blog-post is still hilarious!
happy cancer-versary kevin! i knew when i came to visit you in the hospital two days removed from your surgery and you asked me to go on a walk much longer than you needed that in the battle of kevin vs. cancer, kevin will always win! to borrow a line from jane-ann, cancer should have known better!! i'm so glad you find yourself a year removed with the opportunity to celebrate. it is definitely time for that. i have always been proud to know you but even more so through your journey this past year.
I for one am glad to have the crappy ass human back. I have witnessed a person of great faith and strength battle things I can't imagine over the past year. Your openness to share your experiences and your demons with everyone has truely been humbling to me. I am glad you and Sarah are taking a celebratory vacation. Where are you going to celebrate year two?
Unfortunately, I haven't been around for much of the journey since last year's surgery because of school. But I know in Limbo when you've mentioned being obsessed with cancer, just being able to talk about it has got to mean something, right?
I agree with Amy -- I'm proud to know you, to know someone who has fought cancer and kicked its ass. You continue to be someone to look up to for me. And I think it's great that you can admit to your demons, instead of trying to pretend you've been a-ok the whole time, etc.
So...I'm really glad everything worked out, and I hope you guys have had a great time this weekend! You both deserve it :)
Boy, for a man so caught in worry, you sure enjoy the heck out of life. Makes one wonder if you are just playing for our soft spot. You are a joy of joy's and your life is full of vim and vigor - or is that flem and vinager. Keep rockin' on the important stuff, GOD, Caroline, Hannah, and Sarah!! Don't forget Kevin either. Celebrate, make merry, enjoy yourself, and continue to compliment life in the boldest way we love from you!!!
Kevin, my brother from another mother , I couldn't be happier that this cancer episode is in your rear view mirror. Because cancer can suck my ass. Seriously. But I dare say that the way that you honestly and courageously stared it in the face have served to make you and many folks around stronger in the long run. I know it has done that for me. I am proud to have been a part of your story for a while now, and know that whatever you face, I got your back. I love you man. No homo.
I've hesitated writing a comment here because I was hoping something really profound would come to me. But I guess this is what grabs me- I don't necessarily think there is a REASON for everything, but I do like to try to find meaning.
So, where was I on July 23 last year? I don't remember exactly. I do remember praying for you that morning and worrying.
Fast forward one year. If this were happening now- I'd be at the hospital holding your hand before the surgery, and holding Sarah's hand during the surgery. I'd probably be keeping Hannah and Caroline at some point. (oh wait- did I do that at some point? I think I did)
Because of this horrible thing that happened, my family and I have had the opportunity to truly fall in love with you and your family. If you had ONLY been courageous, we could have stood by and admired you. When you opened up and showed us your fear and vulnerability, you allowed us to love you.
Thank you.
May cancer never again darken your door. And may the life you live in spite of it be as honest and wide open as it has been this past year (without the anxiety, of course!)
Kathy
on july 23, 2009, i spent part of the afternoon visiting you in the hospital and that night with hannah and caroline so sarah could stay with you. i, like amy, can think back to seeing you after the surgery and knowing then that you were going to be more than fine. you were bound and determined to use that spirometer thing until the nurse had to take it away from you. on this year's journey, you've handled it like kevin o'kelley and that is more than enough. be relieved, be reassured, be happy, and do celebrate!
I too was waiting for something profound to come to me... Glad you arent dead... I know it has been tough on you guys. But to remain as you have in the face of adversity is to be truly righteous. I still consider you my big brother, I still look up to you, and I hope when I walk through the valley I can do it as admirably as you have.
Where was I on July 23rd? I was going through my normal routine in not so normal circumstances and I was worrying my ass off for my friend? That's the easy answer. Where was I when the shuttles blew up, where was I when the towers fell, where was I when Reagan was shot (ok that may be a little ahead of your time), where was I when my children were born (I hope I know the answer to this one), where was I when i found out my friend had cancer, where was I when i found out my son has a congenital disorder that will require him to be on a ventilator when he sleeps for the rest of his life? Why does it matter? I have waited a couple of days to post a response to this because that is the lingering question that I keep coming back to. Why do these days embed themselves in our memories? The best that I can come up with is that they stick with us and become such a singular point in our memory because they force us to evaluate and change our perception of the world. My perception of my own mortality has been changed because you got cancer and my perception of you as a Christian and a person has changed because I have watched you suffer, struggle and deal with it. My perception of what it means to be a father has changed because of what we have gone through with Noah. In the end we are not defined by what we drive, where we work or how much money we make but rather by the people we surround ourselves with and how we deal with the challenges that life presents us with.
I remember when I first found out about your cancer. We were in the car coming back from the beach and you sent out an email. I recall reading it to Chris while he was driving and then us both being silent for a long while. Shock (being the main emotion), sadness, worry, fear; these were just a few of the emotions I was feeling. I wondered how we were going to be "normal" around you but after that first Sunday I realized that you would be ok. Truly, I admire you for your faith, strength and sense of humor through it all. It sounds crazy but I think it touched all of us in a positive way. Between your cancer journey and our interesting journey with my sweet miracle Noah, I think we have grown individually as well as a group. For me, I now take nothing for granted and realize how precious life really is. Our trials have made us stronger and we look at life a different way than most people. I think it is both a positive and a negative thing. Positive in that nothing is taken for granted and negative in that sometimes it feels like I am alone because nobody understands and the every day "gripes" of people and their so called problems seem insignificant (even though I know it is significant for them). (ex: You had a bad day because you fought with your spouse/children/boss? Well, my child almost died and is now on a ventilator for the rest of his life!) I bet you have similar feelings. The world goes on even though your life has changed forever. Thanks for being so open and honest with us and being able to show us your vulnerability. You are a lot stronger than you realize.
Melinda
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