Got 'Til It's Gone (the cancer story pt. 2)

When last we left our valiant hero, he was struggling to come to grips with the fact that he had testicular cancer. We pick up our story three days later, in Carroll County General Hospital, as I'm being wheeled into surgery. I was scared out of my mind. I had never undergone surgery and had no idea what to expect. I don't really remember anything leading up to that first operation.

I do remember waking up though. I know that I was in my hospital bed and my dad was on my right, holding my hand. I remember being in some pain, and then the nurse coming in to give me pain medication. She just rolled me over like a rag-doll and stabbed that night right in my butt cheek. Then I sort of drifted back to sleep. I left the hospital the next day, still in some pain. This is when I started to learn about my operation.

My doctor explained to me that my surgery did not go as smoothly as planned. Because my testicle had grown so large, they were unable to push it out of my body through the incision below my navel. Instead, they had to slice open my scrotum and pull out the mutant nut that way. I am proud to say that I had the largest testicle every removed in Carroll County. My one testicle weighed in at 989 oz., which is almost 2 lbs.

Yes, you did read that correctly. Two pounds. Next time you are in the produce section of the grocery store, grab a medium size cantaloupe and drop it on scale. That is about how large my nut got. Now you can probably see why that crazy Spaniard was so desperate to get into my pants. Here he thought he'd discovered the next John Holmes.

If you don't believe me, feel free to email me and I'd be happy to email you a picture of my doctor holding the nut after he removed it. My loving parents asked for the doctor to give them pictures of my nut. Lovely. We always joked about how they were going to frame it and hang it over the fireplace in the living room.

Because my testicle had grown so large, my scrotum also grew and stretched to accommodate it. When they removed the growth, my scrotum was still very stretched out. To prevent it from filling with fluid, my doctor stitched it to my body to keep it from hanging down. Yes, my nut sack was sewn to my body. I also had about twenty staples on my pubic region from the incision. These had to remain covered while the wound healed. The best part was that my dad had to help me change my dressings every day. There is nothing more humbling than having your father apply a bandage to your crotch at 20 years old.

Now that the cancer had been removed, the next step was for me to be tested for any further signs of cancer in my body. My mom is the executive assistant for the President of USUHS, a military medical school. Through her connections, she had my medical care transferred from the doctor in Carroll County, to a Urologist at Johns Hopkins. What an eye-opening experience that is. Every visit to my doctor, I was THE youngest patient there. Almost everyone else there to see the doctor was at least 60. How many people in their 20s do you know with a urologist?

Dr. Kavoussi was a great doctor. He explained everything to me in basic terms and was very friendly. He decided that due to the length of time my tumor grew, the best course of action would be to remove my abdominal lymph nodes next. He would be performing the surgery himself, and lucky for me, Hopkins is one of two hospitals in the world that will perform the operation laproscopically. In lay terms, he would make four small cigarette sized holes in my chest, instead of opening me up from nipple to navel. My second operation was scheduled for July 2.

There was one small risk associated with my surgery. My doctor warned me that it was possible that as a result of the surgery, there was a tiny chance that I would be rendered infertile. This was a lot for me to deal with at that time, because not only was I dealing with cancer, but also trying to come to terms with my own sexuality.

My parents and I decided that I would go to a sperm bank before the operation and put some of my swimmers on ice, just as a back-up. My parents wanted to be involved in every aspect of my treatment, so they wanted to take me to the sperm bank as well. The best part is that I had to do this not once, not twice, but three times. Three different times my parents had to drive me early in the morning, to a doctor's office where I would jerk off in a cup, with them in the waiting room. If you have ever thought that you've had awkward conversations with your parents, it is nothing on riding home from the doctor's office for sperm donation. Good times right there!

The most interesting part of that whole experience is that I learned that I have a very low sperm count. For the average man, his sperm count is around 20 million. Mine was down to 1 million. They say that this is common in survivors of testicular cancer. Once my sperm was placed in reserve, I was ready for the second operation.

The day of the operation I woke up at 4 AM, to be to the hospital by 5:30. I was prepped and ready to be taken back by 6. I remember that all of my family was there to see me off, then the nurse came and administered the first narcotic. I didn't feel anything or a few seconds, then all of the sudden, the clock started swimming like it was part of a Salvador Dali painting. I was wheeled back to the operating room and they put a breathing mask and told me to count back from 20. I think I made it to 18.

The next thing I remember is waking up, being wheeled to my room. I was still out of it and just kept asking for my mom. There she was, at my side. I just remember thinking that I couldn't let go of her hand no matter what then passing out again. I spent the next few hours in and out of consciousness.

My next memory is from the middle of the night. I woke up with the worst urge to pee. I paged the nurse and let her know that I had to go to the bathroom. She kindly explained to me that I had a catheter in, so that should just let go and it would all be taken care of. I tried and tried to no avail. I paged the nurse again and told her I still couldn't go. She then came to my room and discovered that my catheter was kinked up and blocking my urine from following to the collection canister. When she unkinked it, I let loose with 2 liters of fluid. I have never felt such relief in my whole life!

The next few days were tough. I was told that I wouldn't be released until I could stand and walk on my own and had a bowel movement. You wouldn't think this would be a big deal, but you are wrong. I had four tiny incisions on my chest, yet it felt like my entire stomach and chest had been opened. You know that feeling when you've done too many sit-ups and it hurts to stand up? Imagine that feeling times 100. That is how it felt. And for whatever reason, my body decided that I would never poop again. Thankfully, the doctor released me after three days.

When I got home, all my systems did start working properly again. It took me about three weeks though before I finally felt up to par. Surgery really does take a lot out of you. Most days I would feel OK, but then out of the blue, I'd be exhausted and just want to sleep.

Thankfully, there was no further sign of cancer in my body. I didn't have to go through chemotherapy or radiation. I was EXTREMELY lucky, especially considering how long the cancer grew in my testicle before anything was done. This whole experience has given me a very unique perspective on life. I think it has really taught me the value of not stressing over the little things and to cherish your friends and family. You have no clue how much a twenty minute hospital visit can mean to someone, until you've been confined to a hospital bed for three days.

Kids, the moral of this story is, if your testicle starts growing one day, don't assume it is a good thing. Most men love the thought of their genitals mysteriously growing larger, but it isn't everything it is made out to be!!!