A few weeks ago I scratched my chest causing a tiny, little sore to appear. I put some Bactine on it and didn’t think of it again until a week later when it hadn’t healed. I usually heal very fast. I asked my wife to look at it. She said it was nothing. I said it was cancer. I was joking. Another week went by and it still hadn’t healed. I cranked up the cancer rhetoric as a way to get her to set a dermatologist appointment for me because a $50 copay to learn that I had a tiny, slow-healing scratch would be salt in the wound. And I’d rather she be responsible for that. But she said it was nothing. Then last Friday, after Adam Yauch of the Beastie Boys died of cancer, she called me at work and said that I had an appointment with a dermatologist on Monday.
I paid my $50 and then sat down with my shirt off. “Yes, well, it’s cancer.” the doctor said after a quick examination. “We’ll have to do a biopsy, of course, but it’s a highly treatable form of cancer called basal cell carcinoma.” And then he pointed at a poster on the wall behind me. Of the four columns of data and pictures on the poster, mine was the least nasty looking. “When the lab results come back we’ll schedule you to…” and his voice faded off as my thoughts went to my wife. I was RIGHT! And I couldn’t wait to tell her.
But first I needed to confirm my thinking. “So this is a direct result of radiation from the sun, then, yes?”
“Yes,” He responded. “Most likely because you grew up in the deep south in the 70s. And you’re fair-skinned.”
“So it’s not hereditary?” I asked.
“Well, you say no one else in your family has had cancer. So it’s only hereditary because you’re fair-skinned and more susceptible to the sun’s harmful rays.”
Ten minutes after walking into the office, I was finished. “I’ll call you next week with official results and to set plan of action so we can take care of this for you.”
On my way out, I texted my wife, tweeted and facebooked. I had fucking cancer. Empathetic feedback immediately poured in via little 1s and 0s flying through the air from all over the world and into my phone as words.
My wife called. She couldn’t believe it. “We’ll get through it.” she said.
“Oh I know, honey. It will be fine. I have absolute confidence in that. But here’s the thing – I was RIGHT! I knew it!”
She paused. “Yes, you did.” she said. “I love you.”
I drove home thinking about it. I felt like I was now part of an exclusive club. A club I wanted no part of. Friends from around the globe started sharing their own experiences and sending me well-wishes. I immediately thought of the blog post I wrote on Saturday morning following the death of Yauch who was my age. In that post, I wonder out-loud whether cancer is even supposed to be solved, based on the great mystery of it. Then I thought about irony – and how God has a wicked sense of humor. Then I thought about how my form of cancer was caused by someone fixing a magnifying glass on my chest waiting for it to burn a tiny hole before moving on to someone else.
I went through the rest of my day thinking about it. I mowed the grass. I got on the roof and cleaned the gutters. There was no escaping it. I have cancer. You only hear that once for the first time in your life – and you never expect it. But now I’m over it. I have cancer. I love my wife. I love my kids. And I want this thing cut off of me right now – because even though it’s small, it wants to spread malicious code to other parts of my body. Like a foot soldier of death working its way up the chain of command.
***
GabrielleNYC
May 8, 2012
Jim as a 3 time survivor – Great post. ( You are such a Boy! ) Gx
J
May 8, 2012
Being right is deliciously awesome. Good luck in the fight.
Susan
May 9, 2012
Sharing my own journey w/ “pre-melanoma.” Cancer is scary, no matter what it is. You’ll be fine. I wish more attention was paid to the less sexy cancers — pancreatic, melanoma — (both have no cure and the protocol for melanoma is to cut and cut and cut)
nichole
May 10, 2012
So sorry to hear this, Jim! But you’re going to kick cancer’s ass. Big time.
Take care and you are in my thoughts!
Nichole
Jenny
May 11, 2012
I knew people who had survived cancer. I knew people who knew people who hadn’t. And I thought I understood how awful and scary cancer could be, until it happened to my dad. And it was too close all of a sudden, and I realized I knew nothing. I still know nothing. I can only imagine that having someone say it to your face, that the cancer is in you and on you and part of you, is so stifling as to make the whole world feel like it’s coming to a screeching halt. Having heard those words you’ll now always belong to this crappy club into which you’ve been thrust, but I hope that the removal of the cancer and your recovery are enough to keep you in the survivor section for the rest of your days. Remember that you have something not everyone does in your battle: you have cancer *and* you were RIGHT.
Sally McCaughrin
May 17, 2012
My fair-skinned husband has had several skin cancers removed over the last few years. It kind of goes with the territory when you spend a lot of time outdoors. He’s now been told by our doctor where we live now to always wear a wide brimmed hat and long sleeves while working outside.
Nine days with cancer. | Obsessed with Conformity
May 19, 2012
[…] in response to the guy from the Beastie Boys dying. Two days later I was diagnosed with skin cancer and wrote another post on the topic. This is my last post on cancer. I’m done with […]
No One Said It Would Be This Way | Obsessed with Conformity
Jun 6, 2012
[…] sore on my chest that wasn’t healing. I went to the dermatologist and was immediately diagnosed with skin cancer. The cancer was removed the following week. It’s been two weeks since the cancer was burned […]
Cancer | Obsessed with Conformity
Jun 23, 2012
[…] Two days after writing this post I was diagnosed with basal cell carcinoma, a form of skin cancer. Prognosis is great. God, what a […]
Playing the Insurance Game | Obsessed with Conformity
Aug 21, 2012
[…] well have a dermatologist look at it since I’d maxed out my annual deductible. He immediately diagnosed it as basal cell carcinoma. I’m all like, what the fuck? The biopsy confirmed it. A week later I had that removed. I […]
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