The Battle Begins

From my book, Nothing Worth Doing Is Easy...

Once the initial shock that resulted from my diagnosis wore off, another aspect of my upbringing quickly stepped into the forefront of my mind and assumed the dominant position. You see, when I was growing up, I had a very strong military influence in my life, not only from my dad’s past in the United States Marine Corps being a necessary influence on me, but from my own time spent in a youth group called Young Marines. In a lot of ways, that made my approach to the fight against cancer far different from how it might otherwise have been and it ultimately proved to be quite helpful.

I learned not only to approach the fear I would inevitably feel as a motivator, rather than a barrier, but to listen to those around me who could help me, as well as my own knowledge. One of the most significant things that I learned from those influences, though was that if a person found themselves faced with an enemy, the best way to defeat that enemy was to learn as much as possible about it. After all, knowledge is power and knowledge of weaknesses and effective battle tactics is among the greatest powers one can possess.

Well, at that point, I saw no other way to look at cancer than as the current enemy that needed to be defeated, so the learning process began. Right from the beginning, I knew I had no intention of letting a fight against cancer become the first fight I ever lost in my life, so my training and experience just kind of took over. From that initial moment on, I was determined to know everything there was to know about kidney cancer and everything related to it, if at all possible.

Before I even made a decision on how, when or where to pursue the actual treatment of the disease, I got out my laptop and started reading. In the first few weeks after my diagnosis, I spent hours upon hours researching types of kidney cancer, survival rates, treatment techniques, top hospitals, etc. By the time all was said and done, I didn’t even need to ask any questions of the doctors, since I already knew everything I felt I needed to know, right down to the rate at which kidney cancer tumors typically grow.

I’ve always been justifiably known to many people around me as a science nerd, ever since I was old enough to remember. I started pretty much from the moment I could read, researching and taking in as much as I could in the world of science. In fact, I don’t think I even made it through third grade before I had already checked out and read every book my school’s library had about astronomy. From there, I simply continued to expand my knowledge base into earth science, biology and eventually physics and modern medical science and technology. Starting at such an early age in cultivating my interest in and knowledge of science meant it didn’t take a whole lot of time or effort before I found myself engrossed in my cancer research.

As a result of that research, I not only found myself coming into the treatment process with an air of confidence in the fact that I was going to win the battle, but as odd and contradictory as it might sound, I honestly think I was more nervous and apprehensive than I probably would have been if I came into it knowing nothing. Since I knew exactly how fast a kidney tumor was supposed to grow, it wasn’t lost on me that I was potentially in a lot of trouble when the tumor in my left kidney was shown to be growing at an exponentially faster rate than my research had indicated it should. That was when it really hit me that when the urologist who made the original diagnosis encouraged me to get the treatment process started within the next eight weeks after I told him I wanted to seek a second opinion, he wasn’t kidding. And with that, my sense of urgency went through the roof.

Despite all of the research I was able to do ahead of my appointment with the doctor who ultimately treated me, though, there were certain pieces of information I couldn’t know. And that was the really scary part of the whole scenario for me. I knew I needed treatment in relatively short order to have the best chance at the outcome I wanted, but I had no way to know what that treatment would really include.

The first doctor I saw in Texas had already gone over his treatment plan with me, but I knew there was always a chance things could change since there were multiple variables at play. The original plan that doctor had already decided to pursue was to simply go in surgically, remove the kidney and possibly also remove the fatty tissue, adrenal gland and lymph nodes around it in a procedure known as a radical nephrectomy. A simple nephrectomy, in which the entire kidney is removed, but no other structures around it are removed with it was also an option, but there was never any discussion of any other treatment tactics or procedures. The possibility of saving my kidney was never even mentioned.

I knew I didn’t really want the whole kidney to be removed since it’s not really difficult to live a completely normal life with one kidney, but saving the affected organ is still always a better option when it’s possible. I certainly didn’t want to have to deal with the complications I might have faced as a result of having to endure chemotherapy or some other form of aggressive treatment after surgery with just one kidney left in me. Of course, I also knew there was only so much tissue in the kidney to begin with, so saving it might not be an option, regardless.

Knowing the reality of the situation and the most likely scenario I’d be faced with didn’t really help me all that much, though. I still found myself having to deal with the inner conflict created by wanting one thing while accepting that another option could be necessary. It did lessen the stress a little bit, however, knowing that my odds of survival with prompt treatment, no matter what that treatment consisted of, were very high. I was also fairly confident from the prior research I’d been able to do before seeing the doctor who ultimately did it that one surgery would be enough to eliminate the cancer, at least for the time being. That was probably my biggest source of comfort as I got deeper into the process of figuring out exactly what was going to happen, since I never came across a doctor along the way who truly thought I’d need anything more than a single surgery and I knew that was typically how kidney cancer was treated with a relatively high success rate, anyway.

Looking back on the situation, the level of certainty I had in terms of what I was dealing with and how it was most likely to be treated probably had a significant impact on how I went through the whole process of finding a doctor and deciding on a treatment plan. Not only do I think it helped me to not have to ask as many questions as I might otherwise have asked, but it made me a more active participant in my treatment process. In fact, I remember my urologist pointing out on a number of occasions how impressed he was at how much knowledge I already had about what we were dealing with and how the treatment process was likely to progress.