Wednesday, October 5, 2011

A remarkable diagnosis (a non-humorous post, for a change)

I've been using this blog for some pretty light-hearted stuff (If this is the first post you read, this isn't the norm...keep reading after this), but I just wanted to throw this out there as a major component of my cancer diagnosis, and while it may start off a bit depressing here, it's an interesting coincidence nonetheless and can be taken however you'd like to take it - spiritually, as a mere coincidence, intervention, etc. Well, this is an interesting disclaimer, isn't it?

My younger brother, Ryan, died just over three years ago from an accident, which has been tough on my family (that may be the biggest understatement ever!). He was only about 1-1/2 years younger than me, and we were very close growing up. While I'll never completely get over losing a sibling, I've come to terms with what has happened, and part of that involved figuring out what to do on the anniversary of the date he died each year.

The first year I skipped work and went fishing...something both of us enjoyed doing growing up (the fishing part...having my family own a small business, we didn't have much of a chance to skip work!). The second year, I reflected on his life at home. This past year, though, I wanted to start a tradition. I wanted to start doing something new on the anniversary of his death each year - something I hadn't done before. It could be as simple as trying a new type of food or something as dramatic as visiting a new country. I started making plans to skydive, but timing made that a bit of a challenge this year (I plan on it next year, however), so as a result I made plans for my wife and I to go on a full-moon canoe float. I had never gone canoing at night, and it seemed like a perfect way to spend a warm, August night...reflecting on my brother's life out on the lake.

Anyways, as the date started getting closer, I started second-guessing myself. The full-moon float was technically scheduled the night before the anniversary, and it wasn't supposed to last past 10 p.m. (it was a county conservation department sponsored event). As a result, I decided to add another "Neverdunnit" item to this year's calendar for that anniversary - horseback riding.

I've been horseback riding before, when I was young enough to be picked up and put on top of a horse, but they were always trail horses walking in a straight row and couldn't be steered, sped up or slowed down. In essence, I was placed on a smelly, hairy wagon and given a rope to hold until I was told I could get off. I wanted to actually steer a horse and make it go faster than a lazy walk.

The full moon canoe float was amazing...despite the full moon, we were still able to see some fantastic shooting stars in the sky (a meteor shower was peaking that night), and it was awesome, but like I mentioned before, it wasn't on the day of the anniversary of my brother's death, so I was really looking forward to horseback riding.

The following day, I went out to my in-law's farm (they own horses) and was finally able to mark something I'd never done off my list - ride a horse solo and make it gallop. I went out with my wife, Lauren, and my mother in law at first, learning how to steer the stubborn animal I had, and eventually had a chance to take it out on my own, steering it along a pasture, through their backyard and in-between grapevines they have on their property. I even got it going pretty fast, galloping, which jostled me like crazy up and down on the saddle as I mentally checked this year's item off of my list.

The next day was when I first noticed my testicle hurting. It went away the following day and reappeared a couple weeks later, but that jostling up and down on that horse was what first made me go, "Hmmm...that pain seems abnormal." It was that pain that subsequently lead to my testicular cancer diagnosis.

I've gone over the what-ifs since all of this occurred. What if I hadn't gone horseback riding that day? How long would it have taken for that pain to develop? How long would my TC have gone undiagnosed? How far could that cancer, which eventually progressed to my lymph nodes, have gone if left unchecked for another month? Two months? Six months?

I don't care if you're religious or not, something like that will give you pause and ponder the question of how mysterious, and awesome, life can be. For me, just thinking of that makes me shudder, as it rightly should.

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