June 28th, 2016. the darkest day of my life.
Diagnosis: Lung Cancer, Stage 3.
Me: “Stage 3? What the fuck is that?”
Doc: “The tumor is in your upper left lung lobe, but it spread to your lymph nodes.”
Me: “Stage 3? What the fuck is that?”
Doc: “The tumor is in your upper left lung lobe, but it spread to your lymph nodes.”
Me: “Lymph nodes? What the fuck are lymph nodes…?”
Earlier that day I had been given a Mediastinoscopy, where they perform a small surgery at the base of the neck and insert a specialized camera to visually check the area. Once there, the surgeon can easily flush any parts for a better view of the lungs. And there it was, a small neo-plasm that looked like a transparent blob blocking my left lung lobe. Plus, there was evidence that this neo-plasm was also inserted into the lymph nodes located in the center of my chest. This fucker was already gaining some serious ground within me, but for how long?
“Wait, did the surgeon really say the word Cancer?”
The surgeon opted for me to spend the night at the hospital for observation after my blood pressure spiked to dangerous levels soon after I was told. Plus, there would have to begin a battery of tests to identify the type of cancer that has developed, a PET scan, maybe an MRI of the body. And having Polly still at Ceders with the kids was not helpful.
“My God… I have a family…”
Ultimately she left, and I was left alone to process this whole new fucking world that fell on my head. Needless to say sleep was off the table. My body kept triggering the cardiac alarms through the night, prompting the nurses to check-in on me frequently. At one point I thought I was having a heart attack... But it was all a mental issue. An anguish, deep-darkening of the soul issue.
And this was the easy day…
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