My Cancer Experience

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My Cancer Experience

I’ve been writing this column for nearly two years and I often make passing reference to my personal experience with cancer. Today, I wanted to share my story more fully.

I first noticed the lump under my left nipple when scratching my chest. Three weeks later, I felt wetness inside my shirt and discovered that I was bleeding from that nipple. My first reaction was not of worry, but of surprise that my nipple had a working orifice.

My second reaction was that this was not good news. I made an appointment with my family practitioner who was concerned and said that my symptoms needed investigation. A surgeon performed a biopsy and informed me a few days later that I had breast cancer. I was 40 years old, in good health, had no family history of breast cancer, and there I was writing “mastectomy” on my calendar for August 30. It all seemed very surreal.

Although breast cancer is rare in men, it’s essentially the same disease as it is in women. Diagnosis, staging, and treatment are all the same, with the exception that men almost always undergo a mastectomy. Of course, the psychological issues are quite different. Losing a breast does not have the same significance for a man as for a woman. On the flip side, men are more likely to go around shirtless. I’m usually the only single-nippled man at the beach.

During my mastectomy, sixteen lymph nodes were examined and one was found to contain cancer cells. As a result, chemotherapy was added to my treatment regime.

That first dose of chemo was the single scariest part of treatment because I really didn’t know what to expect. It was all explained to me, of course, but I didn’t know how my body would react or how I would feel. Actually getting the chemo seemed rather anticlimactic – they put in an IV, dripped in some drugs, put on a bandaid and sent me home. That’s where I waited for bad things to happen. Fortunately, my side effects were relatively mild with fatigue being the primary problem. Thanks to terrific anti-nausea medications, I never threw up once. Ironically, my dog puked that very first night. Man's most empathetic friend.

Shortly after being diagnosed, I opened a fortune cookie and read a message that said, “You have yet to live the best years of your life.” I’m still not sure if I was supposed to find that comforting or worrisome.

For the past eight years, I’ve worked at the Cancer Resource Center of the Finger Lakes. (Until last year, we were known as the Ithaca Breast Cancer Alliance). Most of my work involves helping people through a cancer diagnosis and treatment. Sometimes what I do is listen and give people space to think through their options. Other times, I track down information or help with such practicalities as getting to care and paying for it.

People often ask how cancer changed me. The most significant change relates to my time horizon. I used to focus more on the future and long-range plans. After my cancer diagnosis, I began to focus more on the present and the near-term. I worry less about the future and ask myself if I’m happy and if I’m making a difference in my community.

The bumper sticker on my car sums up my feelings: “I’d rather be here now.”

From the Ithaca Journal, September 15, 2008

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