Cancer zaps all of my energy
So why on earth am I placing a Texas Tribune story at the top of this week’s front page?
It’s because I have zero energy. Even writing this column is an effort when stories, columns I write usually just fly off the tips of my fingers. At least most of the time.
Not this week. Or last week to be honest.
The Skin Biopsy
In the March 4 issue of The Advance, I wrote a column about a skin biopsy I had done and was waiting for the results, courtesy of my longtime dermatologist, Dr. Richard Newton.
The waiting period, approximately a week, was the worst part, or so I thought at the time.
I thought the biopsy column would have wide reader appeal simply because cancer, unfortunately, whether it’s skin or some other form, is so prevalent in our society today. If there is someone over the age of, say, 21, who has not known either family or friends who have had cancer, they are indeed blessed.
When Dr. Newton called me Monday, March 2, I was waiting to hear, “No worries, the biopsy came back normal,” or words to that effect.
Instead, what I heard was that the biopsy had come back positive, squamous cell, level 2.
Please, someone hand me a bottle of tranquilizers so I can swallow half the bottle. Make it the whole bottle. Obviously, I wouldn’t do that, but that was my thought at the time.
My anxiety level went from zero to 100 in less than 30 seconds. Probably 10.
Then Dr. Newton told me about this skin cancer surgeon he’d been referring patients to for approximately 28 years, and the guy was the best of the best.
Great, but by then, I was already thinking the worst. I was going to lose my entire nose because the cancer had already spread, and how was I going to deal with that?
In fact, a woman had once told me a story approximately 20 years ago about her husband. And by the time the surgeon got to him, it was too late, she said. He was left wearing a nose prosthetic for the rest of his life.
Why this woman was telling me this story, I had no idea at the time, until I later looked up the psychology, which is: People who have lived through a traumatic event deal with it, in part, by telling other people about it. The sharing of the trauma, even if it’s with a complete stranger, helps mitigate their emotional pain.
Still, I really didn’t want to hear a story about a poor guy who had to wear a nose prosthetic the rest of his life because he had waited too long to get a spot biopsied.
Then the woman doubled down: “And sometimes when he bends over, it, the nose prosthetic, drops off.”
For approximately 20 years, that story has remained stuck in my head even as I exposed to my skin to more UV radiation.
Now I was hearing that I, too, had cancer on my nose.
The back of the neck, maybe. On the forearm. Even the top of the ear could be covered up by skipping the next haircut. But on the nose? Really?
Dr. Newton’s office referred me to the skin cancer surgeon, whose office called two days later and set me up with an appointment two weeks later.
A pleasant time, those two weeks of waiting. Can’t imagine having to wait longer, which is indeed the sad case with some people who don’t have insurance or the money to afford either the biopsy or the surgery. What do those people do?
Of if they need to see a specialist, but they are booked two months out. How does one get through that long period of waiting, eight weeks, already knowing that something may be seriously wrong with them?
The Surgical Experience
After 13 days of waiting to get to the skin surgeon, the big morning had arrived.
Oh, boy. I was both happy and terrified at the same time.
The type of surgery I had is called Mohs surgery, which was developed back in the 1930s specifically to treat basal cell and squamous cell carcinomas. It’s particularly useful for the face because to remove the malignancy, surgical layers can be removed with precision, so the surgeon doesn’t have to cut good tissue away unnecessarily.
For the nose, around the eyes, that’s a big deal.
Over the decades, thanks to modern medical technology, the surgical procedure has improved in many ways too numerous to define in this space.
Still, while lying in the surgical chair, the story about the guy who no longer had a nose was playing games with my head.
So, after having needles stuck in my skin to deaden it, the surgeon got to work.
Then he said he was going to step out for a bit and to hang loose. Or words to that effect. By then, I had already zoned out.
But when he came back into the room after doing a biopsy on the skin and tissue he had cut away and said that he had removed it all (the cancer) and wouldn’t have to cut away any more tissue, I actually gave him a hug around the waist.
I’ve been relieved before by life events, but this experience ranks right up there.
For almost the past two weeks now, every day, I have to take off the old bandage, wash the stitches/wound, put on two layers of ointment, one bandage, another bandage, more petroleum jelly, etc., etc. But, and this is a big “but,” compared to what might have been, dealing with the healing process is a small price to pay.
Now I look at sunny beaches, and I immediately cringe at the sight of the sun. Whereas before, I could never get enough of the sand and sun. Funny what skin cancer can do to someone in terms of how they think about Mother Nature.
Of course, now that I’ve been branded with the C-word, meaning I’ve already had cancer once, I’m left wondering, when will the next spot show up? Or now that I know my body has been compromised, so to speak, does that mean other parts of my anatomy are subject to other forms of some malignancy down the road?
I have no clue. Live one day at a time and all that jazz, as they used to say.
I know one thing, I am so grateful that it wasn’t worse, and I’m glad it was caught in time. And most importantly, I got to keep my nose, even though Dr. Newton and the surgeon had assured me that was never going to happen, based on what they saw with regard to the biopsy.
Still, once the worry train has left the station, there is no stopping it until the surgery is complete. Plus, the type of squamous skin cancer I had, if it is gotten to in time, the survival rate is between 95 and 99 percent.
Meanwhile, I’m so sorry for the people who can’t afford to have done what I had done. Either through Medicare, Medicaid, or private insurance. And I’m sorry that our government can spend so much money killing people in foreign lands but can’t spend the money instead on healthcare.
Sure, that may be a political statement, but it’s the damn truth.
Tex Tribune Story
One downside to my story is, it is taking longer than I thought to get back my energy level.
That’s why, probably for the first time in this paper’s modern history, I placed a story published by The Texas Tribune on page one, above the fold.
Whereas I usually write between four and six stories (news, features, and/or columns) in every issue, this week’s Advance really hit a low with only this column and an editorial. Two Word files total.
The Texas Tribune story is timely though. In the Feb. 25 issue of The Advance, I wrote an opinion column about the border wall. Asking why we’re still spending millions of taxpayer dollars on it if the president has already said countless times that the border is completely shut down. So why do we still need a border wall?
The answer lies in the no-bid wall-building contracts being handed out to “special contractors.”
No doubt the river buoy deal is no different.
If the border is shut down, why do damage to the Rio Grande with the placement of ugly orange buoys?
Just so someone can make money. That’s why.
By the way, a shout out to The Texas Tribune. Their journalists publish some excellent stories. Texas is lucky to have it available online, funded by generous donors and nonprofits.
If anyone wants to contribute to quality journalism, there is a donor link on its website: texastribune.org.