Nobody prepares you for this
It sounds so cliche, but in actuality, nobody really cana really prepare you for getting the news of a Cancer diagnosis. This disease if I can call it that, has a very big name in our world today, with a plethora of types and cases in the millions. No doubt we all know somebody who has it, had it or succumbed to it, and most often we remember those who don’t make it.
For most of my life it has been something out there that affected others, and at my relatively young age, I didn’t give it much mind. I have seen family and friends struggle with it to different degrees and some of the memories are heartbreaking to say the least, so you can imagine my view of the disease. However, this time it came knocking on my own door.
Everybody’s story is different and mine began with throat and sinus issues which I’ve had in the past so that was the first place to go. Initially it was blamed on acid reflux and I was treated for a few months, but it was not going away. One of the recommendations was to sleep elevated and that had an effect on my neck and head, which started hurting and I attributed the pain to the posture. Months passed without improvement, and it got to a point where the pain would fade but come back once the painkillers wore off. Sleep quality went to the dogs and I craved a good night’s sleep.
One Saturday afternoon, when I was lying on the sofa with a headache, my wife, in her wisdom, decided it was time to go to the emergency room. Best call to have been made at that point, and so I went. At the hospital, I gave my story and the investigation began. Initially, a CT/MRI scan was prescribed as well as ultrasound and Laryngoscopy. The Laryngoscopy was clear but there was a question raised by the ultrasound and the words the attendant used after seeing some nodules in my thyroid “it is not a death sentence” was my first cause for worry. It turned out to be not a problem. The CT scan was a different kettle of fish in that it was clear, and the next thing was some sinus surgery. So far, so good, I thought, but there was more to come the next day.
The scan had initially shown nothing, but on taking a second look they saw something”suspicous” in their words and that warranted further investigation using a biopsy. This second look ended up being what changed everything, as the sinus surgery was truncated once they went in and saw what they’d suspected. Even before I went into surgery, I saw a word in the notes that hit me hard “carcinoma,” which I know could only mean one thing but that was yet to be confirmed. As I was wheeled into that theatre, a lot went through my mind, but I kept hoping it was not what I’d seen. The surgery itself was pretty quick and I came to a couple of hours later, and I felt my nose much clearer, and I was upbeat. However, a conversation I had later popped my balloon as things didn’t look quite that great. The next morning, the doctor gave me a briefing and told me it was something that could be melted away by radiation, but I still had 14 days to wait for the biopsy results. Even after that early news, I”d already started getting myself ready, and in a call to my best friend, I said” I’m ready to fight.”
“14 days? What an eternity,” I thought and imagined the gymnastics my mind would have to do in that uncertainty. In that state, going back to work was out of the question, and I had to excuse myself. Another call I made almost immediately was to a counsellor so that I could unpack the heavy news. Naturally, my mind went on overdrive and Dr Google didn’t help much to calm my nerves, and I was already seeing the sand going down in my life’s hourglass. The talk with the counsellor was very fruitful in giving me the needed perspective and hope to navigate that uncertain time.
A week later, I got a call from the hospital to go see the doctor. The news had come earlier than expected, which was a relief in part but added anxiety again. The wait seemed endless but eventually I went in to receive the news. I read the jargon in the report but the main news was underlined “Nasopharyngeal Carcinoma” with malignant in the description. So dumbfounded was I that I asked if it was benign or malignant, yet the words were right there. Heavy news, but to his credit, the doctor played the part of counsellor in helping me understand what the news means and how to navigate the implications in my life as well as how to deal with it through support systems, hopes , dreams and my faith. That gave me much more to work on as I began what felt like a totally new phase of life. One medical question was answered but there remained others like how bad is it? How long has it been there? What caused it? How long do I have? What are my chances? Etc.
An emotional rollercoaster does not begin to describe what happened next. When I went to the bathroom, I broke down and couldn’t imagine how to break the news to my nearest and dearest. It took a while to gather the courage to share the news, every time I told the story I would break down again until I chose to write instead of talk.
As I was processing all of that I had to set an appointment with an oncologist a couple of days later, which gave me more depth on the treatment plan and diagnostics required. The problem was all this was happening before the long Easter weekend so some time would be lost but what to do? The next week I scheduled a PET-CT scan, which would give more information for the staging of the disease. More waiting, but luckily the doctor got to move it forward. As all this was happening, I am glad that my support system came in with lots of encouragement. Calls and prayers, as well as advice on seeking treatment options. Interestingly, one of the tools that got meto do the search was AI chatbots …
In terms of the PET scan, after scouring the internet on tips I got it done and that was the first silver lining in what had been a grey cloud so far. I mentioned this was needed for staging of the disease which determined the treatment plan as well as prognosis. The results indicated that there was some spread to nearby lymph nodes but no distant metastasis(spread) to other organs, which meant it was locally advanced. This eventually led to a stage 3 diagnosis. After weighing option locally and abroad, we settled on going to India and quickly set that process into motion. This period was the busiest with numerous calls, emails, doctor's appointments, and documentation, but I was blessed to have a great group of family and friends who gave me very good pointers.
The move to India also had major financial implications, and what happened next was miraculous. The outpouring of love manifested in word and deed made sure I was gone in record time. I will not tire to say thank you to all those who spared their time and money for me and may blessings follow you! Right now, as I sit here going through treatment, gratitude is my mantra, and I have so many things to be thankful for.
Getting to India meant another flurry of activity, seeing doctors for tests, but within the first 5 days, I was receiving my first dose of medication. As expected chemotherapy has its side effects, but there’s nothing major so far, and I look forward to getting better.
One of the major pieces of advice I’ve been getting is about attitude. Nobody prepared me for this but I am here now and a positive attitude will go a long way in aiding my recovery. The medicine will be harsh as expected, but I have to keep reminding myself it is to make me better. A close friend told me not to get into a mindset of doom, and that is important and I have to choose hope every day.
Another thing that hit me is considering my mortality. In life, as a young person, I make plans not knowing what the future holds, then this thing comes that puts that ticking clock right in my face. I do not know what the future holds, so my best bet is to focus on getting well today. In any case, none of us knows how we will leave this place, and that keeps those doom thoughts out of my mind.
In essence, it is taking it one day at a time, enjoying the wins and fighting the battles with the disease.
Thank you for reading
