Beating cancer
Last week I mentioned that I wanted to write a little about my bout with cancer. The story begins in the spring of 2004. I had finished the course work for my Masters program in Computer Science at Stanford, but stayed at school for an extra quarter to finish up a research project before starting at Google. Around that time, I borrowed a bike to compete in my first sprint triathlon. I enjoyed it, did well, and thought it might be fun to take up swimming and cycling in addition to running. I bought my first (used) road bike and started accompanying Brad, Rob, Katie, and others on early-morning and Saturday group rides.
I'd also taken an interest in Lance Armstrong's bid to win a record-breaking 6th consecutive Tour de France that summer. I started reading the book he wrote after his first victory, It's Not About the Bike: My Journey Back to Life. In it he tells his life story, including how he discovered he had cancer (way too late—after it had spread to his lungs and brain), and how he still managed to beat it. I didn't know much about cancer at the time, but I learned a lot from the book. I found out, for instance, that testicular cancer (the kind Lance had) is the most common form of cancer in men between the ages of 15 and 34. I also learned about its early symptoms, which can be quite varied, and its risk factors. I had first noticed unequal sizes "down there" about six months earlier, but hadn't thought much of it. More recently, I'd started feeling a dull discomfort from time to time, but no pain. Lance's book is what first got me thinking it might possibly be something serious. None of the risk factors applied to me, but the symptoms I had were a little disconcerting. So I decided a check-up would probably be worth the $10 copay.
Well, turns out I had it. I would need to have surgery within a few days. My dad, a physician, was very supportive and flew out from South Carolina. I didn't tell many people, because I didn't want all the concern and attention, and I didn't particularly want to talk about the affected part of my body. :) Anyway, to make a long story short, the doctors at Stanford Hospital were very sharp, professional, and genuinely caring. The surgery, an orchiectomy, was successful. I didn't run, swim, or ride a bike for a while. I graduated a couple of weeks later, on June 13, and started working at Google the next day. Radiation therapy would begin a couple of weeks later. I decided to sign up for a marathon in September, because training for it would be an excellent motivator for me. The Tour de France started a couple days before my therapy. Lance finished second in the Prologue, and his strong, consistent performances over the next three weeks would deeply inspire me. I went in to the cancer center at Stanford Hospital every morning before work. My routine was to get up early, run between 4 and 9 miles, go in for a half-hour of treatment, then arrive at work around 8:30 a.m. I'd occasionally feel nauseated or get a headache at work, but other than that, the radiation didn't have any detectable side effects. The yellow jersey went back and forth a few times, but Lance triumphed once again, by over six minutes.
Since that summer, I've returned to the doctors for blood tests and CT scans every six months or so, and I'm still cancer free. (Testicular cancer sometimes spreads to the abdominal lymph nodes.) Two more years of checkups, and the doctors will lose interest in me. I couldn't be happier.
I'd also taken an interest in Lance Armstrong's bid to win a record-breaking 6th consecutive Tour de France that summer. I started reading the book he wrote after his first victory, It's Not About the Bike: My Journey Back to Life. In it he tells his life story, including how he discovered he had cancer (way too late—after it had spread to his lungs and brain), and how he still managed to beat it. I didn't know much about cancer at the time, but I learned a lot from the book. I found out, for instance, that testicular cancer (the kind Lance had) is the most common form of cancer in men between the ages of 15 and 34. I also learned about its early symptoms, which can be quite varied, and its risk factors. I had first noticed unequal sizes "down there" about six months earlier, but hadn't thought much of it. More recently, I'd started feeling a dull discomfort from time to time, but no pain. Lance's book is what first got me thinking it might possibly be something serious. None of the risk factors applied to me, but the symptoms I had were a little disconcerting. So I decided a check-up would probably be worth the $10 copay.
Well, turns out I had it. I would need to have surgery within a few days. My dad, a physician, was very supportive and flew out from South Carolina. I didn't tell many people, because I didn't want all the concern and attention, and I didn't particularly want to talk about the affected part of my body. :) Anyway, to make a long story short, the doctors at Stanford Hospital were very sharp, professional, and genuinely caring. The surgery, an orchiectomy, was successful. I didn't run, swim, or ride a bike for a while. I graduated a couple of weeks later, on June 13, and started working at Google the next day. Radiation therapy would begin a couple of weeks later. I decided to sign up for a marathon in September, because training for it would be an excellent motivator for me. The Tour de France started a couple days before my therapy. Lance finished second in the Prologue, and his strong, consistent performances over the next three weeks would deeply inspire me. I went in to the cancer center at Stanford Hospital every morning before work. My routine was to get up early, run between 4 and 9 miles, go in for a half-hour of treatment, then arrive at work around 8:30 a.m. I'd occasionally feel nauseated or get a headache at work, but other than that, the radiation didn't have any detectable side effects. The yellow jersey went back and forth a few times, but Lance triumphed once again, by over six minutes.
Since that summer, I've returned to the doctors for blood tests and CT scans every six months or so, and I'm still cancer free. (Testicular cancer sometimes spreads to the abdominal lymph nodes.) Two more years of checkups, and the doctors will lose interest in me. I couldn't be happier.
posted by jared at 7:57 PM
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