JONATHAN: Hello. My name is Jonathan. About 2 years ago, during the seventh month of my wife's pregnancy with our first child, I was diagnosed with esophageal cancer. Needless to say, instantly, everything in our lives changed. In a matter of seconds, we went from expecting parents to expecting one of us to die.
Getting there, however, actually didn't take seconds. What I found later was that it actually took years for the tumor to develop. I keep thinking that maybe if I had been a little more worried or vigilant or overly careful, or I if was a hypochondriac, or if the doctor did one thing and not the other, or if we simply got lucky, everything would be okay. Of course, thinking like that will drive you mad. There's no going backwards, so you have to be able to put all of those things in the, "Things I Cannot Control," box, and move on.
Next thing, we're looking at the results of the biopsies. Yup. Esophageal cancer. More specifically, what I had was a tumor about the size of a grape attached to where my esophagus meets my stomach, also called the GE junction. There were also some tiny spots on my lung, but it was generally thought that they were not malignant. To complicate matters, I had problems with my stomach previously.
About ten years ago, I hurt my back - slipped a disk - and couldn't move at all. Literally. Getting up from bed to sit outside in the sun occasionally, or going to the bathroom was about all I could handle. Then the doctors gave me Vioxx. It was like a miracle drug. I went from being mostly immobile to walking and driving almost immediately. It really was quite amazing. They said it was easy on the stomach since I only needed to to take one pill a day. And I took them. These pills made it possible for me to walk. Why wouldn't I?
That question was answered for me eventually. The Vioxx it seems ate away at my stomach causing inflammation, irritation, swelling -- Pain. This condition is called gastritis. I went to the doctor and he prescribed another pill to fix the problem caused by the previous pill. I was beyond happy that it worked, but it was more a band aid than a real permanent cure. Over the years, I've endured recurring stomach pain, and I always attributed it to gastritis. But, I took my pills and I was better.
Some time before my cancer diagnosis, my stomach pain started to get worse and more frequent. The doctor gave me a new medication saying that sometimes the body just gets used to a particular drug and taking another should do the trick. It didn't. My pain got worse, and I even started to have trouble swallowing food. That's when we did the endoscopy, so the doctors could take a look, and perform the biopsy. What the doctors saw looked bad. But, we had to confirm it. Waiting to hear back from the lab was torturous. Plus, it was over the weekend. Tuesday morning the phone rang. We were summoned to my doctor's office. We sat across the desk and he gave me and my wife the news. "I'm sorry, "he began. Immediately I knew -- Not good news.
CANCER: Not good news? You finally meet me, and that's all you have to say? I'm awesome. Esophageal cancer, you know we're still somewhat rare in the U.S. We mostly hang out in Asia and Europe. You should feel special. And what about my plan? Brilliant. How I grew inside you using your other stomach ailment as a cover. By the time you found me, I was already full grown. But, that's whatever. Doctors rarely look for me in patients your age anyway.
JONATHAN: Alright enough! I agreed to your helping. Don't push it.
So that was it. I had cancer. I didn't know what to think and was probably in shock for over a year after that initial meeting, but decisions had to be made, doctors had to be found. Weren't we just talking about cribs and breast pumps? I could see our plans and dreams were never going to happen as we'd hoped. It's tragic, but it's my life now, and my wife's.
I almost feel worse for what she's going through compared to my ordeal. Although, what I'm going through sucks plenty. She has to do all the work -- take care of the baby, take care of me, make the appropriate doctor appointments, handle the house, and get up and go to work each day to support our family. Meanwhile, I'm as useful as a bike with no wheels, not terribly capable of doing much. Everyone says that my job now is to get better. That's all I should be focusing on. Take all the drugs, do the chemotherapy, the radiation, whatever they think is needed to keep me alive. I can tell you already this job sucks. I think I have to lie down now. I'm not sure if I'm making sense anymore. Hopefully, I am, because there's more.
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