So when last we chatted about my balls, I had just had surgery, which had gone pretty well, and my pre-op CT scan had come back normal. All indications were that the cancer hadn’t spread, and I was awaiting the pathology report and the post-op blood work to determine what my treatment regimen would be. I was hoping to end up on surveillance, which basically is just what it sounds like — they watch you carefully, you do tests every month, get a CT scan every couple months, and if the cancer doesn’t show back up, you win.
Unfortunately, that’s not going to happen. Instead, starting in about a week, I’m going to get two rounds of chemotherapy.
That’s mainly due to what they found in the pathology report. The good news is that my blood work went back to normal after the surgery, so if anything’s metastasized, it hasn’t gone very far. But the tumor itself was pretty far advanced, and it had at least one, and possibly two kinds of tissue that spread easily.
The first kind — the kind I certainly had — was enbryonal carcinoma. If that sounds like “embryo” to you, you win 80 Fecke Points. Yes, my cancer was mostly made up of placental tissue with some yolk sac and random tissue thrown in. Indeed, according to my blood markers, I had the level of alpha-fetoprotein of a woman in her second month of pregnancy.
The jokes pretty much write themselves; I choose to believe that I’ve had the mythical Gay Abortion. Okay, I’m straight, but the cells that made my wacky, potentially-life-threatening fetusoid were all male.
Anyhow, EC is pretty nasty and tends to hang around and cause trouble for some time, so that alone would be call for chemotherapy. I also might have had some choriocarcinoma, which spreads differently than testicular cancer usually does (by blood rather than lymph nodes); while the pathologist couldn’t say for sure that I did, he evidently couldn’t say for sure that I didn’t. And again, that argues for chemo.
So chemo it is. I’m not looking forward to getting poisoned for a week, and then doing it again three weeks later, but if that’s what I have to do to live cancer-free, I’m willing to put up with it. The good news — there’s always good news with testicular cancer — is that the regimen of bleomycin, etoposide, and cisplatin (BEP) is really, really effective in killing this stuff off. I have a better than 95% chance of needing no further treatment after this — and a nearly 100% chance of long-term survival which, I keep telling myself, is all any of us has.
So it’s not the best possible news, but it’s not the worst possible news, either. And hopefully, in about eight weeks, I can close the book on the treatment phase of this, and start celebrating milestones. Believe me, I’m really looking forward to it.
I’m really happy for you that it was detected early enough to have the best prognosis one could ask for after the diagnosis of “Cancer!!!!!”
Good luck & keep us updated. I’m particularly interested in hearing your description of your upcoming poison regimen.
You’re in my thoughts, Jeff. Good luck with the chemo, and insert joke here about how you don’t know, but cancer could grow up to win the Heisman.
Good luck. Hang in there. Bring on the milestones!
Best of luck with the chemo. The good news is that you can do anything for a month, no matter how bad it is. When you get a chance you might want to click over to the resource page of my blog. This link is for testicular cancer and there are some funny links.
Sounds like you’re in for a rough month or two. I pray that that’s all it is and the chemo does it’s job. Keep your mental strength up!
So, not having a ball, then?
Good luck, Jeff. Thanks for the update.
Man, that sucks — but it’s wonderful the prognosis is so good. Thanks for the update.
Is there any way we can blame your need for chemo on George W Bush?
Thanks for the update, Jeff. I’ll be thinking of you and wishing that time goes as fast as it can till the treatment is finished.
Jeff,
I hope the chemo causes you as little discomfort as possible. Best of luck!
cancer is pretty weird stuff. who’da thunk there was such a thing as embryonal carcinoma? fucking cancer. [please don’t tell me what color ribbon for that one.]
liking your odds, though! a LOT. people react differently to chemo, but — check out the anti-nausea meds, make sure you have lots of entertainment nearby, and i’m sending some virtual saltines and 7-up as traditional backups. you may or may not want to investigate festive headgear; that is a personal decision. but i’m pretty sure that if you held a headgear contest, your esteemed readership would have lots of ideas.
best to you, jeff.
Is there any way we can blame your need for chemo on George W Bush?
Given that we don’t know what causes testicular cancer, I suppose it could be all Bush’s fault, but it’d probably have to be GHWB given the time it takes to develop…actually, if you’ve been anywhere near Iraq you might have a case. Depleted uranium, in particular.
That aside, the main reason men die of testicular cancer is because they don’t complete their chemotherapy as scheduled. It’s total crap to go through, but chemo works for testicular cancer…unless you don’t go through it all the first time and allow the most resistant clones to multiply. So, sorry, but deal with it now or deal with it later.
Best wishes to you! Last bit of advice: if you’re experiencing nausea, pain, or any other symptoms make sure you tell your oncologist. This is not the time to get macho about putting up with pain or other problems.
I will be wishing you well, Jeff. Thanks for the update.
Best to you, Jeff. Only you can make a post about cancer cause me to laugh out loud at my desk. Best wishes and hugs.
Wishing you as easy and effective a treatment as possible, Jeff.
Thanks, all, for the kind wishes. The good news is that the first week was mostly uneventful — oh, I feel tired, and my hands look like they’ve aged about 40 years, but the nausea has been bearable (mostly just occasional waves — it comes and goes, but hasn’t forced any issues) and fatigue is best handled by sleeping, which I can do.
Of course, my oncologist is now threatening me with a third round depending on blood tests, which I’d rather avoid, but meh — as Dianne noted above, BEP works wonders if you commit to it. I only wish every cancer had as good a prognosis as mine. I’d rather be done after two cycles, but if a third cycle is warranted, a third cycle is what I’ll do. Quite frankly, I’d rather have had no cancer in the first place; all I can do is play the cards as dealt.