Hey guys. I received some not so great medical news recently and I wanted to take a moment to catch my CAG brethren up on what is going on.
About two weeks ago, my urologist discovered a lump on my left testicle. After a couple of ultrasounds, X-rays, a CT scan, and many blood tests and exams, the doctors have determined with 95% certainty that it is a cancerous tumor.
30 years ago, this would have been a much more dire diagnosis. But today, the prognosis for testicular cancer is very good (somewhat oxymoronically, it’s known as “the good cancer”). It’s extremely responsive to treatment, especially when caught early. We’re working with Dr. John Pattaras, a great urologic oncologist at Emory here in Atlanta, and on Thursday flew to Indianapolis to consult with Dr. Richard Foster, the same doctor who treated Lance Armstrong, and perhaps the world’s foremost authority on TC. From the moment cancer was suspected, my wife has been relentless in ensuring that I receive the very best medical care. I feel incredibly lucky to have her as my wife and advocate.
Standard procedure for testicular cancer is an inguinal orchiectomy (I/O), i.e., removal of the affected testis. Sounds more gruesome than it is. It’s done laproscopically through an small incision just below the waist and is minimally invasive. The testis is immediately biopsied to determine what kind of cancer is at work (there are two primary types, with several subcategories and degrees of aggressiveness), and treatment is planned accordingly. Treatment ranges from simple surveillance to ensure the cancer does not return, to chemotherapy, radiation, and a surgical procedure known as Retroperitoneal Lymph Node Dissection (RPLND), which I won’t go into, but suffice to say I’m hoping I won’t need it.
Every indication so far is that the cancer has not spread beyond my left testis, so it could be as simple as the I/O, plus surveillance. There are, however, some mitigating factors that make things a little more complicated. During the ultrasounds, they also turned up a “suspicious area” in my right testis that does not appear to be a tumor, but is reason for concern. Testicular cancer does not spread between the testes, so bilateral TC is EXTREMELY rare (of the 5,000 – 6,000 cases of TC diagnosed in the U.S. each year, only 5 percent of those are bilateral). Right now the consensus seems to be to just keep an eye on it. Additionally, my wife and I want to ensure that we are able to have children (the reason I was at the urologist in the first place was for infertility issues), so we’re trying to choose a course of action that will accommodate that. We hope to make some decisions in that area and move ahead with the I/O this week.
Let me take a moment to urge all of you guys (or any gals who care about their guys) to be vigilant in checking for TC. It is the most common type of cancer affecting men between the ages of 15 and 35 years old -- but it can strike any male, any time. Finding it early is often the difference between a simple operation and long, complicated, and painful course of treatment ... or worse.
I won’t sugarcoat it: This is scary as Hell. But rest assured, I have no intention of giving into that fear. I may not go on to win the Tour de France, but I WILL BEAT THIS BASTARD.
Please keep my wife and I in your thoughts and prayers. In the meantime, I welcome your best off-color testicle-related jokes.
About two weeks ago, my urologist discovered a lump on my left testicle. After a couple of ultrasounds, X-rays, a CT scan, and many blood tests and exams, the doctors have determined with 95% certainty that it is a cancerous tumor.
30 years ago, this would have been a much more dire diagnosis. But today, the prognosis for testicular cancer is very good (somewhat oxymoronically, it’s known as “the good cancer”). It’s extremely responsive to treatment, especially when caught early. We’re working with Dr. John Pattaras, a great urologic oncologist at Emory here in Atlanta, and on Thursday flew to Indianapolis to consult with Dr. Richard Foster, the same doctor who treated Lance Armstrong, and perhaps the world’s foremost authority on TC. From the moment cancer was suspected, my wife has been relentless in ensuring that I receive the very best medical care. I feel incredibly lucky to have her as my wife and advocate.
Standard procedure for testicular cancer is an inguinal orchiectomy (I/O), i.e., removal of the affected testis. Sounds more gruesome than it is. It’s done laproscopically through an small incision just below the waist and is minimally invasive. The testis is immediately biopsied to determine what kind of cancer is at work (there are two primary types, with several subcategories and degrees of aggressiveness), and treatment is planned accordingly. Treatment ranges from simple surveillance to ensure the cancer does not return, to chemotherapy, radiation, and a surgical procedure known as Retroperitoneal Lymph Node Dissection (RPLND), which I won’t go into, but suffice to say I’m hoping I won’t need it.
Every indication so far is that the cancer has not spread beyond my left testis, so it could be as simple as the I/O, plus surveillance. There are, however, some mitigating factors that make things a little more complicated. During the ultrasounds, they also turned up a “suspicious area” in my right testis that does not appear to be a tumor, but is reason for concern. Testicular cancer does not spread between the testes, so bilateral TC is EXTREMELY rare (of the 5,000 – 6,000 cases of TC diagnosed in the U.S. each year, only 5 percent of those are bilateral). Right now the consensus seems to be to just keep an eye on it. Additionally, my wife and I want to ensure that we are able to have children (the reason I was at the urologist in the first place was for infertility issues), so we’re trying to choose a course of action that will accommodate that. We hope to make some decisions in that area and move ahead with the I/O this week.
Let me take a moment to urge all of you guys (or any gals who care about their guys) to be vigilant in checking for TC. It is the most common type of cancer affecting men between the ages of 15 and 35 years old -- but it can strike any male, any time. Finding it early is often the difference between a simple operation and long, complicated, and painful course of treatment ... or worse.
I won’t sugarcoat it: This is scary as Hell. But rest assured, I have no intention of giving into that fear. I may not go on to win the Tour de France, but I WILL BEAT THIS BASTARD.
Please keep my wife and I in your thoughts and prayers. In the meantime, I welcome your best off-color testicle-related jokes.
#
ing whore and you need to beat the shit out of it!
