October 3rd 2017. This date rattles me to the core. As much as I’d like to forget it or have it brainwashed from existence, it is etched into my mind forever. I hate the thought of this day, as it is a constant reminder of a pain and sorrow like I’ve never felt before.
“You have cancer. It has spread to multiple locations.” After those words were spoken by our primary care doctor, everything said thereafter, in those moments, was just kind of a blur. My brain immediately started shutting out his words and going to spaces in my mind that was anywhere other than there in that small square room at that very moment. I feel like Meredith and I were only there for a few minutes. But it was closer to several hours because the doctor had blocked off the rest of his appointments after 3pm to be there to give Meredith and myself all this unbearable news. We were the last patients to leave that day and one of the nurses had to unlock the door for us to leave.
I don’t remember a lot of what was said there that afternoon. I can only remember bits and pieces of those few hours… words being spoken about followup scans to determine where the cancer had metastasized. Words about what type of cancer it might be (my cancer type was unknown until I had my biopsy and subsequent results several weeks afterwards). Words about what my next weeks or months were going to be like. All these words were too much to take in during that short span of time. My brain and heart could not cope that afternoon. I had the feeling of being crushed. I totally shut down.
Worse than what I was going through in those moments in the doctor’s office that day was the look on Meredith’s face as the doctor was describing all of the locations cancer was found. Every minute or so I remember looking over to her and I could only imagine what she must be feeling. Actually, I could have never imagined what she must have felt. I know she was in her own place that day. I only knew that when I looked into her eyes I could simply see a look of despair, extreme sadness, and a type of pain that I could not take away or make better. At that point I felt I could not breath. Watching her somehow absorb this diagnoses that afternoon was far worse than what I was feeling and worse than what I might have to go through in the days ahead. If moments could break someone down into fragments of a human being, this was the moment. I felt like a part of me died at the doctor’s office that day. Another part of me died shortly after when we had to call Meredith’s parents and my own to tell them the news. She had to make those calls. I couldn’t. I mean, I physically couldn’t. I could not speak and was stuck in a place in my brain that couldn’t process things for at least several hours.
When we returned home that afternoon we also had to tell our son and daughter that I had cancer. Telling them was just a little over two years after Meredith had breast cancer. I don’t know if I will ever get those pieces of myself back that died that day or that I ever wish to have them back. They are too painful. And just maybe it was meant for me to leave those pieces behind, to die that day. I’ve tried to put that painful day behind me. I don’t claim to know what PTSD feels like. But I would guess this day might fit somewhere on that scale.
The Diagnosis
The locations my cancer had metastasized was many. The cancer cells had not discriminated making their home in quite a few of my organs. I was told I had cancer on or in my pancreas, lungs, throughout my intestines, and adrenals that Tuesday afternoon. The biggest tumor was in my abdomen and the size of a grapefruit. Subsequent scans would also reveal that I also had cancer in my bones (humerus, tibia), a few subcutaneous tumors, and innumerable brain metastasis. When I received the news regarding the brain mets a couple of weeks later I felt the end was near. It all became too real at that point.
I had stage IV melanoma.
Are these my last days? How did my body betray me like this? How will I be able to bear the thought of leaving my family if I am dying? Will I go through a horrific, painful death?
The hardest questions I could ever imagine asking myself were constantly swirling around my head in the coming days and weeks. These often unbearable and unanswered questions are one of the many burdens cancer inflicts. Never knowing all the answers is simply a part of life. But all of the unknowns cancer dumps into someone’s life has got to be one of the largest burdens to endure.
I’m sure I’ve left some details out of this day. But I hope that by processing some of what I remember about it will allow me to help myself better understand and cope with the grief it caused and maybe even help a few others cope with the wrenching news of cancer.
“Strength is born in the deep silence of long-suffering hearts; not amidst joy.”
Felicia Hemans
