The C word

100% Embryonal carcinoma with Vascular invasion. Stage IB.

1 month and 1 day ago I had no idea what most of those word meant on their own, much less put together in a sentence.

1 month and 1 day ago, on September 14, on Will's 3rd birthday, Dan's doctors told him that they had found a mass, and it was cancer. Testicular cancer to be a little more specific.

I have hesitated writing about it here because frankly it's been much to raw for me, and writing does not quite have the therapeutic effect that it might have on others who choose this form of communication more often. I still get greater comfort out of talking. But as we have reached a small milestone in our process with this diagnosis, it felt like the right time to capture some of what has been going on, and some of where we are going.

Things moved very fast after the initial meeting with the Dr that Friday. We went in for a CT scan the next morning and had the initial surgery to remove the tumor on Tuesday. The surgery was outpatient and I was able to bring Dan home that evening. He is really recovering rather nicely and now, at about a month out, is at about 85% I would say.

From there came a series of Doctors visits. conversations about our options, long sleepless night and now here we are. We have a plan. The big picture? This is a very treatable cancer that has a high success rate when it comes to treatment when it is caught early. And it was caught early. But it's still cancer and it still really sucks.

This is the email we sent out on Friday:

Hello, everyone! After visiting with multiple doctors over the past couple of weeks, we've finally settled on an excellent specialist and our next course of action, which is going to be surveillance, and then chemotherapy if necessary. Apparently the big surgery we've been mulling over doesn't work as well for this specific cancer (100% Embryonal carcinoma) as it does for other types of testicular cancer, and might miss microscopic cells which can move directly to the lungs, bypassing the nodes which are removed during surgery. And preventative chemo (which was actually recommended by the first doctor we saw), apparently, is done "sometimes in Europe" but very rarely here in the states (when we brought up the chemo idea to actual specialists, they looked at us with a mix of amusement and horror, like we were dogs depositing a dead squirrel on the floor as a gift).

Surveillance entails monthly x-rays, CT scans and bloodwork for the next two years, then less frequently for three years after that. If the cancer is still around right now (a 50% possibility), it will manifest within that time, and we'll jump into nine weeks of chemotherapy, which itself has a 99% cure rate. So that's the story. We're not exactly done yet, but it feels good to have a decision made, and we're not arguing with the eventual cure rate either way.

There truly are not words to thank all of you for your help and support over this past month. We'll see many of you soon, and for those who are farther away, we are determined to start coming out of our cocoon, so please write or call whenever you feel like it. Our love to you all.