Jun 25, 2009 10:55
Today I got a call from my sister at around 9am. There was cancer in 10 of the lymph nodes they took out. Additionally, it looks like the cancer cells are adrenal carcinoma (OR that's what i heard, she actually said "adenocarcinoma," which makes a big difference later on). Basically, it meant that it wasn't the original urethral cancer they though it was, and this was moderately good because even though it was in the lymph nodes it's at least a less aggressive cancer (whereas the urethral cancer is super aggressive). I was doing my deep breathing to try and avoid a breakdown when Jane walked into my office and asked "how is your dad doing?" at which point i start to cry. I wasn't sobbing, but there were tears. Essentially, this update meant that chemo was all that was left...etc. and probably not the best news because they "didn't get it all."
I was sitting at my desk and my heart was breaking. I'll admit I was in a panic mode for a few minutes (like 30) and wondering, yet again, if my father was going to make it to my wedding. I even looked up adrenal carcinoma to try to learn more. i couldn't find much info (there was a lot for the urethral cancer). So, I was starting to deal with it, slowly but surely, and hoping that not too many people asked me about it since I have work and class tonight.
At about 10:45am I got another call from my sister. Basically, it boils down to this:
MY FATHER HAS F'ING PROSTATE CANCER. PROSTATE CANCER.
They were wrong. It never should have gotten that far but we, as a society, are so dependent on technology that they were using his blood testing instead of the "old fashioned method." If they had just stuck a finger up his butt, they would've caught this a long time ago and we wouldn't be going through this right now.
What does this mean?
-His prognosis will be completely different (we don't know what it will be though).
-He has primary prostate cancer WITH NO METASTASIS. It is localized.
-His treatment options have opened up ridiculously (whereas with urethral it was surgery and chemo and prayer.
-We still don't know enough for to be "happy" but this is good news. My dad has the most common prostate cancer...there is hope.
I've cried twice so far today. Once when I heard the news we hoped so much not to hear, and once when I heard the news that in this situation, bad as it is, anyone would hope to hear. I'm a little choked up right now actually.
My personal quote for the day: "To have hope taken away, and then give back, is a humbling thing."