My cancer diagnosis - an analogy

As most of you know I visited my urologist yesterday for the 'big picture diagnosis' - post testicle review and CT body scan.

Matt Jones best summed it up when he said the results could have been:

1. Brilliant
2. Good
3. Bad

I like to think I got 'Good'.

'Brilliant' would have meant that the cancer was confined to the right testicle they had already removed.

'Bad' would have been that the cancer had spread to vital organs and become pretty feral (my biggest fear given earlier blood marker readings that suggested the cancer was mobile).

'Good' was me being told that the CT scan showed that the cancer was not in my lungs. Not in my liver. Not in my bones. Not in those places that would have scared the shit out of me.

However, it did show that a gland in my lower back that directly 'links to and feeds' the testicles does have cancer present (hence the gland being enlarged all those weeks ago and being responsible for touching against nerves which in turn caused my excrutiating back pain).

It also showed that there was a much smaller cancer linked to a gland in my chest area (not my lungs).

While my urologist used the term 'glands' not 'nodes', the key now is to crush the cancer in those two glands with chemotherapy and most probably a whack of radiation before they get the chance to do any more nastiness within my body.

I have whipped up the following analogy to help myself visualise what it all means . . .

Imagine my body as a beautiful, white plush living room rug. (Um, I'm not saying I'm beautiful and white, but a very expensive, pristine floor covering is something we all fear might be irreversibly damaged by stains and blemishes and splotches.)

Now imagine walking in one day and finding someone's knocked over a bowl of sticky, chocolate-dipped strawberries atop a coffee table in the middle of your beautiful white rug - a very obvious threat to its future.

Eeeek. Quickly remove the bowl and the spilled strawberries (my testicle).

Then look around and see whether any other chocolate-dipped treats have dropped onto the floor and damaged the rug anywhere (my CT scan).

Be pissed off, but a little relieved to find that only two of the fruity fiends have in fact landed in isolated spots (my glands).

Get in the best cleaning agents to attack and tidy up the two isolated blemishes (my chemotherapy/radiation).

Then watch carefully to make sure that someone who may have been in the living room earlier didn't step on a chocolate-dipped strawberry and potentially return to re-grubby the rug with their dirty soles (my ongoing check-ups to ensure that the cleaning agents have done their job).

It's a 'Good' scenario.

'Bad' would have definitely been that a whole party of people had already trampled the strawberries right throughout the rug leaving it in a state of disrepair.

Make sense? Hee hee.

I'm just looking forward to the cleaners coming in to get that white rug back into top nick.

I will be meeting with my oncologist in the next couple of weeks to set up the chemo/radiation calendar - most likely kicking off in mid-September*.

You now know what I know.

While I didn't get the all clear, I kinda wasn't expecting to.

Because of the peculiar blood markers from day one there was always the concern that there might be a little mess to tidy.

And therefore chemotherapy was always mentioned.

So I'm good with that.

I'm now focusing on getting myself strong for the next round of treatment.

And tidying up those two chocolate-dipped strawberries.

Knowing that the bowl of 'em has long since been taken away.

My mind is now all over this matter.

And I can take the next step.

Positively.

'Cos positivity is one of the best drugs in the fight against cancer I reckon.

Pee

* I did ask my urologist whether I'm at risk of 'karking it' before my chemotherapy starts. He looked at me oddly and said, "No, there's no risk of you karking it". I'll take his word for it. Hee hee.