fuck this cancer shit
#ftcs


dateline - eastern urology, st. vincent's hospital, january 24, 2012, 2:30 p.m. - it was one year removed from january, 2011, the appointment at which i had graduated to yearly visits. i had not seen dr. wade in twelve months, and, as usual, i was certain shit would be bad. i went in to the ct closet, did my scan, got injected with the iodine contrast, tasted metal in my mouth, felt all warm and tingly inside, did another scan. dr. wade came into the closet to read the scan. he looked at it with sarah. as usual, i waited around the corner from the computer desk, and tried not to read sarah's face. dr. wade read the scan. as he said in october of 2009, january of 2010, and july of 2010, and then in january of 2011, to his eyes, everything looked like it should. we left his office. i took a deep breath. all was well.

or so we thought.

dateline - pet supplies plus, january 30, around 2:00 - my cell phone rings. i don't recognize the number, but i recognize that the number was from around the area, the first three numbers "836". my first thought was, "it's the daycare." so i answered.

"hello."
"is this mr. o'kelley?"
"yes, this is kevin."
"mr. okelley, this is sandy from the st. vincent's pet scan center. i wanted to confirm your your appointment for tomorrow morning."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"i'm sorry, what? i didn't know...what do you mean...i wasn't aware...i'm sorry...this has caught me off guard...why do i have a pet scan appt....sandy?"
"i'm so sorry. i didn't realize you were unaware. dr. wade set up the appt. for you this afternoon."
"but, i just saw dr. wade last monday. he said everything was fine."
"i am sorry. you will have to talk to dr. wade. i don't have any details past your appointment time."

holy. mother. of fuck.

i remember the feeling of my head spinning. it was the same feeling as it was back in 2009 when dr. wade read my first scan, expecting to see a kidney stone, instead finding a large fucking mass in my right kidney. my head spun again. i stumbled into the office. i told kathy and someone else to get the fuck out. i called sarah.

"what the fuck?"
"i am sorry. dr. wade called me. i was going to call you. i didn't think they would call you."
"so, what the fuck?"
"when they sent your scan to the radiologist, they found something."
"they found what?!"
"we don't know. it could just be scar tissue from the surgery that has formed. that's what we need to find out."

oh no.

dateline - st. vincent's east pet scan center, january 31 - i had the pet scan at 830. and then i waited. it would be that afternoon or wednesday morning before i would know the results.

dateline - pet supplies plus, february 1 - sarah called dr. wade that morning. no answer. he was in surgery. she finally got a callback. he had made us an appointment.

"we have a lot to talk about."

fuck.

we made it to dr. wade's office. the look on his face told me things weren't good. it was all i could do not to throw up right there on his desk. i didn't. i sat down. i listened. i cried as he told me. there was a spot in the area of the removed kidney that glowed. likely not scar tissue. likely a recurrence. but there was something else. there were three or four small spots in my upper chest area that were glowing, too. those would need to take priority. they could be lymph nodes reacting to what was happening in the kidney bed. or, they could be something else.

fuck.

i called katie. i asked her if she and amy could meet me and sarah at the church before dinner. sarah and i walked with them upstairs at the church and sat down in the phoenix sunday school class. i bawled in front of them all in a way that i never have. what i heard from dr. wade was my death sentence. it was now when and not if. i was done. i cried to sarah and katie and amy and then we went to fellowship dinner.

we went to a book study steve lawrence was leading. at the end, during prayer requests, i told that group that something had been found. i cried in front of them. i made some of them cry. the reset button on my battle with this horrible thing had been pressed. i was back at square one. only, this time, the road would be scarier, longer, and harder.

FUCK.

on february 15, i had a mediastinoscopy to biopsy the area in and around my lungs. several days later, the results came back. that area was clean. it was all benign.

fuck this cancer shit.

march 22nd, i had my third surgery in three years, this time going back in to the spot that started it all, to remove the recurrence. got that motherfucker, too. it hadn't spread.

fuck this cancer shit.

after consulting with two oncologists, we decided to do treatment. i was told there was a "chance" i was cured. it might never come back. then again, i had a 97% chance of that not happening back in 2009. it came back. so, we weren't interested in taking any chances. i wasn't interested in taking any chances. and so i started chemotherapy.

the last seven months, man.

i've documented my travels many times here, so i won't revisit it all. it's been hell, though. literal hell. or what i imagine hell would be like if i believed that hell was a real place. after three or four days of my 28 day cycle, every day after is a different degree of torture. a different degree of pain. discomfort. displeasure. disconnect. all torture. self-inflicted. i've chosen this path. a year of pain on the chance that, when i'm done, i'll never have to deal with renal cell cancer ever again.

will it work? who knows. a clean scan in november was a good place to start. but i've had clean scans in the past. i need years worth of clean scans before i'll let myself believe i'm done with this shit for good. until i can throw myself back into the rest of the population that has as good of a chance of being eaten alive by a feral cat as they do dying from renal cell cancer at my age.

it's working now, though. working on ruining my body from the inside out. i haven't run since july. haven't played more than a handful of softball games. can't even think yet of playing basketball. can only do hundreds of push ups and situps and hope that i can walk with less of a limp today than i had yesterday. the toxicity is literally killing cells that weren't ready to die, the side-effects from which are affecting every part of my body's normal activity.

take for granted walking? tasting food? eating without pain? having a day without diarrhea? without unwavering, brutal fatigue? brushing my teeth without tearing up and spitting out pools of blood each morning and night? my body hair not being prematurely white? constant nausea? not having sores in fucked up places?

no. i will never take any of those things for granted. not anymore.

because 2012 decided to offer me another lesson in perspective. i guess i didn't get enough three years ago.

most days, you won't know i'm hurting. i won't let you.

because fuck this cancer shit.

it can take my body, but it's not going to take my spirit. fuck that. my spirit's mine.

i've got my family. my friends. my church. my employees. my falcons. my alabama football. my braves. my american horror story. they want me on that wall. they need me on that wall.

or so i am telling myself. because i have to. to live.

the first five months of 2013 are going to be hard, just like the last 11 months of 2012 were hard. but on most of those first five months, you won't know i'm hurting. i won't let you.

because fuck this cancer shit.

i win 2012, cancer. fuck you. fuck you. and fuck you.

i'm going to win 2013, too.

it's a promise.