The 'C' Word

Ok. I'm sorry it has taken a lot longer than it should have for me to get another post up. I feel terrible about leaving you guys in the dark. Thanks so much for continuing to read and pray for me. It means a lot, seriously.

Anyways, an update. I had a bone marrow biopsy last Wednesday. To settle the debate that I fell into prior to this procedure, yes. It is probably the most painful thing I've ever experienced. If I get any requests for it I may outline the procedure in detail, but trust me, it's gross.

The real point I wanted to get to in this post is what it feels like. Not physically, but mentally and emotionally, the moment that the "C" word becomes a possibility.

I have to be honest and say that I have always been a person who believes that there are no coincidences, that most thing are pre-ordained in some capacity and sometimes when you have a premonition, it is true to some degree.

Well, I have always kind of had a premonition that I would get cancer, as morbid as that sounds. I just didn't think that I would be 25. I suppose that it's better I get it now than later, but still it is strange when something like this comes to fruition.

I will never forget going from having pancreatitis one day to having cancer the next, but I amazed myself with how I handled it.

After my first scan that first evening in the hospital, the report came back reading more like a script for an episode of "House" than anything. All that was missing was the possibility that I had lupus (spoiler: It is never lupus).

The words "mass," "metastasis" and "lymphoma" stuck out as if they were circled, underlined and typed in size 70 font. There is still even in the face of printed proof those moments of, "well maybe it's this," or "well they could just be wrong."

But after some more scans and more reports, the doctor comes in and confirms your worst fears.

Even while knowing that my type of cancer is very treatable and curable, there is an immediate moment of your life flashing before your eyes, your regrets and dreams that you haven't quite achieved all come to you in that moment.

And then, acceptance, and getting ready to fight.

When my father got his diagnosis of cancer 22 years ago, my mother looked at him with tears in her eyes and said the same thing that she said to me that day just a few weeks ago: "This is going to be the worst day."

And that's how you have to think of it, every day after today will get better. Yea, I hurt. But the funny thing is I can't wait for chemo because I know that my symptoms will immediately get better after my first treatment.

It is alright to feel sorry for yourself, I have come to realize, if only for a few minutes. But I'll write on that later.

Thanks so much for your thoughts and prayers. Back to MUSC tomorrow for what will hopefully be my final biopsy. If all goes well and I'm not too tired I will try and write about it. See you all soon.

-Matt