Cancer: The Diagnosis

Wednesday, May 10th 2006

I remember the day that I was told I had testicular cancer, it was much like many other busy days in life, I think it was sunny outside...

I had an appointment with the doc mid-morning, it was a regular follow up to a pain I had felt in my left testicle a couple weeks earlier. Though the pain never receded like he thought it would, I wasn't feeling overly anxious- after all I was already thinking of lunch. I remember feeling rather irritated in myself that I had skipped breakfast that morning because my stomach was grumbling. Later in the day I had to scurry off to work, a prospect that interested me least of all. So there I sit in the waiting room, thinking about lunch, waiting to get the visit over with.

Unconsciously a week before I remember taking the dogs outside and I was awash with this gut feeling that the pain was cancer. I can't really describe the feeling other than to say it was not unlike an internal conversation I was having with myself. I seem to have them often, as that's the way my mind works. I tend to say the words in my head before I talk, a habit that makes it difficult to think on my feet in certain situations- I tend to think too hard when I want to say something important.

"Am I making them feel uncomfortable? I am aren't I. Say something. Quickly, okay um... man- whats that word again..." until finally I blurt out "it's a nice ...day today huh?". Such is the way my mind works. Oi...

Even despite having had this conversation in my head a week before, it still hit me like a train was boring down on me- tied to the tracks and feeling a bit helpless to get out of its way. I remember the doctor saying "We'll need you in for an ultrasound, and most likely surgery... today."

While I was digesting the new information about the body that I've known for the better part of 27 years, I was absolutely fixated on his last word: "today" Was it really that bad? Was it going to grow into more areas of my body- had it already? It was like my body was under siege, and that millions of little ninja's had full run of it.

Next came a flurry of activity and I soon remember walking across to another section of the hospital on one of those elevated bridges that cross the streets. I looked down at the cars and it was just Ashley, Isabella and me for a good length of time. I watched the cars going by below me, almost feeling silly- that here I am the one who's in shambles. I'm supposed to be strong for our family, I'm the one who takes care of them. The cars reminded me of my blood cells moving through my arteries. The analogy made me realize just how fragile I was.

It wasn't long before I was taken to a room, and the preparations for surgery had begun. Most of the day had come and gone by then, I remember it was sunny and I wished I hadn't skipped breakfast. Leaving Ashley and Isabella, I was wheeled into another room, where they gave me a black sharpie and instructed me to draw an "x" on my inner thigh- the side that they would eventually remove the tumor from.

I was perplexed to say the least and all I could think about was- "You mean to tell me you guys don't know!?" I nonetheless obliged and then was told to take my contacts out. Now without my contacts, I'm blind as a bat is in sunlight- wait but bats have sonar- so I was left feeling rather screwed and a little hesitant about what was going to happen next. They put an IV in and the next thing I know I'm getting some pretty decent medication.

So off they wheel me to surgery, and here I am feeling a little funny an X drawn on my inner left thigh. The nurses help make me feel at ease, and soon they're asking me questions while I squint at my surroundings passing me by. I remember telling them that I like movies and then mention King Kong. I can't be sure, but I'm fairly certain I talked at length about that big ape, probably butchering the storyline only to fall into a dreamless sleep (most likely drool accompanying me).

Great, way to make a good impression Mariucci.

The surgery went very well, and soon I awoke in a room with my loving wife. I remember little of the following hours, only that the morphine was making me feel ill, and that I desperately wanted to go home and be left in peace and quiet.

It was well beyond the point of reflection, for I had cancer and within 5 hours of its diagnosis, it was out of me. Surreal I would call the experience, as I really hadn't had the time to digest it. I was lucky, and am happy to be able to count my blessings.

The sun did shine that day, I remember...