My Battle With Testicular Cancer, and What I Hated About It Jan 23 '06 (Updated May 25 '07)    Write an essay on this topic. Tweet The Bottom Line A poem... If Something Doesn't Feel Right, Don't Wait! Go Tonight! ...also get educated about this cancer and other forms. A New Growth On My Testicle Back in the late Summer of 1997, around September, I started to feel uncomfortable in my testicular area. Sometimes our bodies get aches or pains, and then they go away by themselves. I didn't give it too much thought, I was only just 27 years old, and I surely didn't think about disease or my own mortality at that age. The only problem is that it progressively had gotten worse, it felt like a dull pain, like a headache, except this was a ballache. Still, I didn't feel any health threats were eminent, I mean what could possibly go wrong. At about mid October, I felt something. Something was different about my left testicle's shape. It felt like there was a Tic Tac sitting on top of it, though not as hard as that candy. I finally told my then girlfriend (now my wife) about the symptoms I was experiencing, but only so that she would ease my mind of any impending fears. That was not a good idea, instead she struck panic in me about my health now. Anthony Edwards Saves My Life The next night, we were sitting in my apartment and we were watching the TV drama ER. I think George Clooney was still on the show back then. Anyway, this kid gets rushed into the ER because he collapsed in gym or something, surely nothing I was feeling. After the first half hour of the hour show, they determined that the boy had cancer in his lungs, which started in his testicle. That was the first time I heard the words Testicular Cancer. Up until that Thursday night, I had no idea that someone could even get cancer of the testicle. To make a long story short it scared me, and now I was worried. Yet, I knew that I had to go to the doctor. My problem was that I hate going to the doctor, and I am a very private person. I knew that if I went to the doctor and told them what was going on, they would have to examine by testicles and start fiddling around. After two more days of trying to figure a way around it, I came full circle and bit the bullet. I made an appointment with my primary care physician, the late Dr Stanley Stilwell. When I told him that I was having pain, he told me that it probably wasn't cancer because if it was cancer, I probably wouldn't feel any pain. I never heard of that, but it sounded good to me. It's probably an old wives tale. After he checked it out, and told me it was probably nothing, he said just to make sure, go across the street and have a testicular sonogram. Great, I think now more people have to examine my genitals. If I only knew how many people over the next few years would come in contact with my penis, I may have relaxed way back then. The Preparation to Cut Me Again and Again Now, luckily for me, everything started to move very rapidly. After the sonogram, the tech called in the radiologist and said in her thick accent, "No, no, this is not good." I asked her what she means by 'not good,' and she said one word, "Cancer." That kind of freaked me out, and I went back across the street to Dr. Stilwell and told him what they said. I had blood drawn and my all my levels looked great, healthy. I guess that this doesn't always matter either. Stilwell referred me to a good urologist, I forget his name. When I went to the Urologist, he examined me pretty quickly and then I met him in his office. He said tomorrow we have an open spot for surgery and to be there at 8am, don't eat or drink... This was going a little too fast. What surgery, I asked. He said we have to remove that testicle so we could test it. It sounds pretty crazy right? They have to remove my testicle to make sure it's cancer or not. I asked him if we could wait three more days so I don't have to worry about not feeling well for Thanksgiving, because that was two days away. He agreed, thank God my fiancée was with me, she gave me strength to go forward. I had to call my mom who was on vacation in Florida. I told her that the Urologist suspects that the growth he examined was malignant. She got very upset, and she cut her trip short so she could also come home and be with me. Surgery #1 I had surgery at St Vincent's Hospital in Staten Island. I was kind of afraid of what path they were taking to go about getting my testicle. It kept me up for the two nights. I couldn't imagine any other way besides cutting open my sack and grabbing it that way. I finally asked the Urologist while I was on the operating table how. He told me that they go through the upper inner thigh, and it's no big deal. The night before I was talking to everybody on the phone as they wished me luck. My mother told everybody, I haven't heard from some of these people in years. Like my Godmother, she was asking what kind of prosthetic I would be getting. I haven't even thought of that, she said I was dumb. So the next day, as I was on the table and on my way to la la land, I whispered in my doctor's ear about a prosthetic testicle. He told me he would see what he would do. That was the last thing I remember. When I woke up, he told me that he implanted a silicone ball filled with saline. After I was able to pee, they let me go home. So far, this cancer thing was a piece of cake. All of the local anesthesia they numbed me with felt really good, and then after the two days it took to wear off, it didn't hurt that much. I still took my perkosets though. So now, I was off from work, and I stayed home and played video games. The Oncologist #1 Yes, now I needed to have blood tests every week, and get chest x-rays every week. I also had to visit this Oncologist a lot too. I wasn't staying home as much as I thought. Oh, and the best was the CT-Scans. I hated these scans. I had to drink that crappy chalky concoction every CT-Scan, it almost brings you to tears. They found something on my lung. At 27 years old, I thought that I knew better, so I told them it wasn't cancer, it's probably just a scar. My Oncologist suggested that they remove the entire lower lobe of my lung. I argued, but he insisted that this is how it was done. I didn't believe him. He probably got fed up with my stubbornness and he ultimately referred me to Memorial Sloan-Kettering. That was the best thing he could have done, and in fact it was the only thing he had done right. The Oncologist #2 As soon as I got to Sloan-Kettering, my spirits were lifted a little. The whole atmosphere was a bit more heart warming, possibly because most of these people were either in the same boat as me, or sadly much worse off. My new and improved oncologist's name was Dr. Moetzer. He seemed like a genius to me when it came to cancer. He knew what the plan would be since he met me, he never second-guessed himself, he was sure and confident. The first thing I needed was the surgical biopsy on my lung, Dr. Moetzer referred me downstairs to the Thoracic area of the hospital. Surgery #2 This was not the original thoracic surgeon that Dr Moetzer referred me to, he was too busy to see me, so I was pushed into another doctor's room. Unfortunately, this doctor did not accept my insurance, and I had to pay all of the out of network deductibles and co-pays. That really sucked, I was paying that off for like three years. Anyway, this new surgeon agreed that he didn't need a whole plate of lung taken out of me, just a fork full. He scheduled me for the following week, and now with this news about only removing a wedge for the biopsy, I was looking forward to getting past this. This was now mid January that I had the surgery. The surgery was a nightmare, by the way. I had never experienced so much pain in my life. Sloan-Kettering really messed me up for this one. First off, they talked me into getting an epidural put in to relieve me of any pain quicker. They tried to hook me up with this thing, and this was the first part of extreme pain. I had to sit on a gurney, bending over to look at the floor for him to administer the IV into my spinal area. He tried about six times, which means the first five were unsuccessful. When I was moved to the moving gurney, I looked back at the one I was just on, and saw so much blood that it really frightened me that something was wrong. When I woke up in the recovery room, I felt so much pain in my back and sides where they cut me, I didn't know what to do. My fiancée and mother were there when I woke up somehow, and when they looked at my face and heard my weak moaning they demanded some attention. It seems that the person who put in my epidural, never really put it in. They found out because while I was pressing the button for the morphine to numb me up, it was just leaking down the side of the bed and on to the floor. They put a new IV in my arm for the morphine, and rushed my family out of the room. I fell back asleep and woke up when they wheeled me up to my room at about 2am. By then I was feeling much better and used the phone to call my fiancée that I was feeling so much better than before. My stay was only three days in the hospital, I was then able to go back home for a week until my next visit with Dr. Moetzer. Surgery #3 Dr. Moetzer was planning my next surgery for the beginning of February. I asked him if this wasn't too fast and shouldn't I recover longer? He assured me that time was something that we did not have the luxury of. The type of cancer that my testicle produced was an aggressive cancer, and we had to have a lymph-node dissection performed as soon as we can to make sure that the cancer had not spread. He sounded reasonable, so I agreed. That made him happy, and ultimately me too. He referred me to Dr Sogani, the best Urologist at MSK. I met with him and we scheduled the surgery. He warned me of the possibilities that could happen. He told me that this surgery was a big surgery, not like the other ones I had already. The incision would be enormous, and the recovery would be long. I needed to police my own rehabilitation afterwards. Also, there was a 60% chance that I would not be able to have children after this operation, and that my sexual function may be forever hindered. What did he mean by that? Well, although I would be able to have orgasms, the semen would not be able to come out of my penis. It would just stay in the sack and then I would have to have it drained periodically. He assured me that he would do everything in his power to not let something like that happen. He suggested that I make a deposit into a sperm bank in case I did want children in the future, after all I was getting married in a few months. I told him that if God wants me to have kids, he'll either let me have my own, or he'll let me adopt. I think he felt a lot of pressure to make sure he didn't mess anything up. The surgery was supposed to be four and a half hours, he was inside my abdomen for about eight. Lymph-node dissection, by the way is a process of cutting an incision from the middle of my chest all the way down to around my bellybutton and under. Once inside they go through each lymph node to check for cancer. The lymph nodes are how the cancer would travel to my other organs like stomach, lungs and brain. Recovering Dr Sogani, I didn't see too much of anymore. There was a Fellow aiding him, Fellow Rentzepis. I'll never forget Fellow Rentzepis, he had the best bedside manner of any doctor I had met. He always put me at ease. This time I stayed 13 days in the hospital, and it wasn't lying on my butt either. I had to work every day I was in there. I woke up to find that my long incision had about 1,000 staples zipping it up. Luckily they didn't bother me much. But they were part of the work of staying in the hospital. Plus there was a tube up my nose for the first six days to drain my stomach of this black smelly stuff. For the first three days I had a catheter inserted into my penis. It wasn't a pleasant sight to behold, it looked so mangled. But let me tell you my jobs. 1. I had to re-inflate my lungs by using that evil breath test thingy. It hurt so much to work with that, I had to do it three times a day. 2. I had to constantly walk around the hospital floor, and when you can't stand up straight because your slump is stapled shut it was rough. Plus I hated the slippers I was bought. 3. Every day, I had to get a chest x-ray. That meant lying down on a flat table. Remember my slump is stapled shut. I was always yelled at by the x-ray tech to straighten up, it was an insane torture. They should really make a horror movie about it. 4. I still needed to take my CT-Scans while there. I already told you about that torture. 5. I wasn't allowed to eat for the first eight days. I was only allowed to consume the saline coming through my IV everyday and those tiny Indian arrow sponges of water. (Before my surgery by the way I wasn't allowed to eat for three days.) I still do not know the reason why this next thing was happening, but nurses would come in three times a day to check on my penis. Before you guys say, I wish that would happen to me too, you must realize some things. With all of the morphine and drugs I was getting daily, I was held prisoner in an altered state of depression. Plus my penis would need to respond for any nice feelings of this, and at this point, it wouldn't even pee right. When they finally took out the catheter, I couldn't even aim it right. The Prognosis Well, the surgery was super-successful in every way, this I can tell you from being married now over seven years, and my four-year-old son. But at this point after the surgery, they told me what they found in my lymph nodes. I forget what the limit was, I think if they found three or less lymph nodes affected by cancer then I wouldn't need the dreaded chemotherapy. They found two lymph nodes out of...I don't even know how many lymph nodes I have in my abdomen, but I was in the clear. No I wasn't. Remember, I told you earlier that my cancer was very aggressive? Well, the cancer traveled outside the lymph nodes into some fatty tissue. They removed the two cancer ridden lymph nodes, and some fatty tissue from one side of my stomach. But to be safe, they recommended I receive the chemotherapy. Chemotherapy If there is one thing I hate about being an inpatient in the hospital, it's getting stuck with needles. Let me tell you, this is what chemotherapy is all about. Getting an IV every day filled with poison to kill all rapid-growing cells. My chemo cocktail was cesplatin and something else, which is used a lot for stomach cancer. I really didn't have any preconceived ideas of what receiving chemotherapy was before I started. I couldn't have because I didn't know what it was. They allowed me to receive my chemo treatments on an outpatient basis. I would come in to MSK every morning by 9:30, and get hooked up to two bags of the poison and a large bag of saline. I had to finish all the bags before I could leave. It took an average of two and a half hours for my veins to consume the liquids. On a good day, it would last maybe an hour and forty-five minutes. My side effects were minimal, thank God. I only experienced a couple of days of nausea each round of chemo, and I think I vomited once. I did get a lot of tinnitus, which I still get sometimes today. I lost all the hair on my head. My urine was had a lot of residue that looked like a course powder. Many people get many other side effects from chemotherapy, and I consider myself lucky and blessed that I was spared the harsher ones. One side effect I didn't anticipate was depression. It was something I couldn't break out of for about two months. I think I blame it on the constant drugging of pain relievers and the fact that I was alone for most of the day. Even though I was out of work, my family and friends still had to work. I started taking some St John's Wort, and believe it or not, this herb helped me a great deal. The Outcome and What I have Learned The outcome was that my cancer lasted me from beginning to end a little over seven months of treatment and recovery. I received three surgeries, and a couple rounds of chemotherapy. One surgery was unnecessary as we have found out, but mandatory because they would not move ahead with the treatment until I received the lung surgery. I believe that if I had been educated on the dangers of testicular cancer, I could have shaved off maybe two months of treatment. If I had acted much more quickly, I probably would have needed the first surgery, (to remove the testicle), and the second surgery (lymph node dissection) and possibly that would be it. I was told by my first oncologist, Dr. Moetzer that I would need to follow up with an oncologist monthly and then bi-monthly for five years. I went for six years, and very recently had an annual check up with a great oncologist at the Nalitt Clinic. What Can You Do To Detect Testicular Cancer Unfortunately, this sort of cancer affects teens starting as early as twelve years old until about thirty years old. But, if you feel any sort of change down there, examine your testicles after a shower for any new bumps or cysts. Like I said earlier, mine felt like a soft Tic Tac like shape that had grown on top of my left testicle. Doctor's do not know what causes cancer of the testicles, so there's no explanation as of yet. Act fast and the sooner the better. My cancer was very aggressive and I waited. It still didn't get too far as far as other organs. If you act fast, you may save yourself from having to get chemotherapy. Recovery time for me from that alone was about one month, it could be really rough, plus you won't have to be bald. Ask Questions to the doctor's that are treating you. I had to go to three different oncologists before I trusted him. They all pretty much had different plans on how to treat this cancer. If something doesn't sound right to you or sit with you well, go somewhere else if your medical insurance allows it. If you don't have to, do not take as many pain killers as I have. I'm not sure if it was the weeks of morphine flowing into my veins, or just the perkosets I was taking, but the result is an altered state of depression. I can't remember truthfully if I had abused the painkillers or not. I may have needed them, and depression was a forced side effect, or I may have just gotten into the habit of taking the same pills every day. Lastly, please make sure you feel comfortable in the hospital you are in. Back in 1997 and 1998 when I was fighting cancer I had insurance that allowed me to stay at Memorial Sloan-Kettering. The care was second to none, and the staff made me feel like I was the most important patient there. I remember the nurses rooting for me and if I felt depressed there was a playroom up on the 15th floor or something. I remember trying to do a puzzle, and there were a lot of children around. The doctor’s I had were just a few of the people that I will remember for the rest of my life. Not only did they save my life, and my way of life, but also they cared and their optimism always was a small crack of light in my dark days there. Today, I couldn’t stay in MSK if cancer reared it’s ugly head back into my life because my insurance has changed, but I have already looked into other facilities, and I know that I would probably stay at NYU Hospital. But did anything good come out of this experience Well, I guess the answer is yes. I suppose the experience itself can be turned into something positive. Much sympathy can be extracted from people around you. I know it's pretty cheap, but when else am I going to have the cancer story? And boy, did I milk it! I cannot prove this, but I think chemotherapy had cleared up my allergies. I had many allergies before cancer, I would constantly suffer from seasonal allergies, or dust mites for most of the year. Now my health has never been better, my allergies are non-existent except for cat dander still. I know that although cancer could be scary, it does not have to be a death sentence. Cancer is usually an aggressive disease, and it needs to be combated just as aggressively or maybe more so. I do still fear cancer, and I still have nightmares that it's come back sometimes, but I feel I'm smarter and more confident that if it comes back into my life or the life of a loved one, I'll be ready. It's like wearing cancer armor.

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