Skin Cancer Forum - life after cancer diagnosis

I'm glad you found it "inspirational." I can only hope that I just live beyond what feels like madness to the nth power.
One of the odd things that I found about all of this was that until 2003 with my 5th surgery, I actually felt pretty good-- emotionally. Perhaps I just was really good at running from my emotions, and didn't realize it until one day when I felt like a mac truck hit me going a hundred miles an hour.
My doctor had even commented that of all his patients, he'd never met anyone with as much hope as I had.
I laughed and told him if I had any hope it was because God had instilled it in me. He of course commented he couldn't speak to any spiritual dimension because he was a scientist.
I think that I could've made the adjustments easily enough had life not actually happened.
In 1996, my wife became ill, and no one knew what it was. For years they thought she had some form of CFIDS. We never had kids, and had been looking into adoption at that time. We chose to wait, and less than a year later I was diagnosed with the MM.
I'd even been looking into trying to find a means to get a master craftsman certification from German craft guilds, to better my skills as a sheet metal mechanic. That of course went out the window like a rocket.
I figured I'd be back to work within a matter of three months, but no...... The doctors told me I'd never do "that kind of work again." I later learned what lymphedema (LE) was, and how dramatically it'd change my life. I now live with chronic secondary LE of my left leg.
REcovering was easy enough. I hadn't had a vacation in years, and taking a six month break was kind of nice. My mom bought me a computer-- my first ever-- and I got this thing in a box, and put it together, and learned all about computers. Within 4 months I was installing software, adding ram, a harddrive, and a new scanner. You would've thought I was an IT person the way I went at it.
I spent innumerable hours on the internet, and learned all about this new wonder called the "web."
By early September 1997, I'd filed my paperwork for the two disability income policies I had, and by October, I was approved. So while I was no longer working, I now had a comparable income to what I made as a working tin-man.
By October 1997, I got a hold of my local Vocational Rehab. counselor, and asked about aptitude/personality/interest testing to see what kind of a new career I could find.
Within a few weeks I learned that I'd be best suited to either become a doctor, or a scientist.... wow.... a what??????????
I only had 5 years of disability income so whatever I chose it'd better be good.
The VR counselor offered me one semester at the local community college, and I got all A's-- except one class-- and that was a how to succeed in college class... I got a B-. Go figure.
In January 1998, fully involved in a one year clinical trial, done with my radiation therapy, and my looking like it just might be ok, I began attending classes. All went well. I had to go to the NCMC in SF,CA, for my trial drugs, and give myself shots each day. If there was one thing I said I'd never do is to injest myself with anything-- I lost an uncle to heroin in 1975. My favorite uncle too...
That March I filed for social security disability income (SSDI), and by June 1998, I was approved. In July I went back to the VR counself, and asked her what it would mean to them if I was approved for SSDI. She responded with a "you'd just have written your ticket to a bachelor's degree" (which was what I really wanted).
So, I began attending school full time, and loving every moment of it. I even found myself doing a couple of honor's projects-- which for me was a real shock, as I was a high school drop out who didn't get a general education diploma (GED) until I was 21.
When I was diagnosed in 1997, my in laws came to live with us, to help both my wife and I adjust to our new lives-- as people with chronic health issues, and unable to be gainfully employed in our trained, respective crafts.
They were great. Sadly, upon return from the hospital with my first surgery, we learned that my mother-in-law had a far more severe case of diabetes than we'd been led to believe. It turns out that she had two mild strokes that were accumulatively damaging while I was in the hospital-- she had two trips to the ER herself, while my wife and I were 250 miles away.
Her health began deteriorating far more quickly than we imagined possible. By September 1997, she was going to a nephrologist (kidney doctor), and he put her on lasics-- a drug meant to remove excess body fluids. She went from a healthy appearing 165lb woman to a bag of bones, weighing in at somewhere around 95-100lbs within 2 or 3 months. The doctor sent her home to die in November 1997. My wife began her fight to save her mom's life while watching me recover from my first of then 6 unknown surgeries.
And all the while the doctor's were still trying to figure out what my wife's health issues were.
We were thankfully able to get mom on dialysis. She went through 4 shunt surgeries over the course of the next 2 1/2 years. I still remember one where her temporary shunt site sprung a leak when we got her out of the car to take her in for a dialysis treatment. I was pulling her out of the car, and once she stood up, I saw her blouse turn blood red. I glanced down, and blood was dripping on the ground. I told my father in law to get help, and fast.
In Spring of 1999, my 8 year old cocker spaniel had nose problems. We took her in to get a "roto rooter" job on her sinuses. I was taking my last final for the term, my very first physics class. On my way out the door, I got a call from the vet-- my cocker died in recovery. I was stunned more than anything. I somehow had to keep a clear mind for this exam.... I got an A in that class, and it gave me the motivation to try more.... They say we are at our best when things are at their worst. I'd never loved a dog as much as I did that cocker. I was devastated. Two weeks before she died, my guts began hurting something fierce. I'd eaten some fruits and veges for lunch and two hours later I was doubled over in pain. I went to the ER, and found that my mother in law had been placed into the hospital an hour before I got there, from school.
After a sonogram, a flouroscopy, a CT scan, and rather extensive blood work up, they figured out that I was bleeding internally, and needed a 4 unit transfusion just to have surgery to find out IF the cancer had come back. On June 2nd, I had 20cm of my small bowel removed. It turns out that the cancer had come back, and had eaten through the bowel wall, causing a blood vessel to be compromised.
Two weeks later I started summer classes. I sometimes wonder if I'm just plain mad, or a sadomasichist. I'd previously signed up for the classes before I knew about the tumor, and recurrence. God knows I had plenty of reason to take a break.... but no...... not me.
I had to keep running. I couldn't let it catch me. If it caught me, I'd be dead. Ever try running from yourself? It's an oddity I still don't quite understand. It's not like one can escape from their own body while living. I'm looking back at it now with a smirk in my heart, but back then I had to keep moving.
I still miss my cocker. Her name was Bianca. She was as close to having a child as I'll ever get.
As time wore on, life kept going. Mom was in dire straights and we were doing all we could to help her want to live. But the woman that once was, no longer existed for all to laugh, and share with. She was a bag of bones who never spoke, and rarely smiled. Her face was sallow, and we all mourned her long before she was actually gone.
By late 99, school had continue to go well for me. We start 2000 like most others-- wondering what the "new millennium" would bring planet earth. We'd bought some 10 bottles of bottled water, stock-piled the shelves with enough food for at least a month, I even bought a box of shotgun shells for a shotgun I'd never used, and never would-- just in case. By noon on NYE, 1999, I had watched what happened to Siberia, Iraq, Iran, etc..., and noticed that no nuclear power plants had failed in the far east, so figured all would be safe.
2000 came a new life, it seemed for all of us. Mom continued to decline, but we began seeing things just a little differently. Or perhaps it was just me; I don't remember any more.
Something I suppose I should state here is that at least 4 different people in my life kept asking me why I was going to school. I'd hear things like-- the cancer's going to kill you sooner than later, why not do something less stressful, or more fun? You know you're just wasting your time, right, the cancer will get you one day.
While they hurt sometimes, I could only think-- what am I going to do, sit around and watch tv? What good will that do? And those would be my responses.
But somewhere deep inside, part of me believed them. I still remember times when I'd try just watching tv-- during the semester breaks.
But then I'd get really........ bored, and would pick up a book and read it. And we're not talking a novel. I was reading history text books. Albeit old ones, but textbooks nonetheless.
The one thing that had become constant in my life was my need to "keep moving" and not stop.
I think that by trying to find a new life, I was running away from what helped to bring about that life. The cancer, and all it meant.
While I've done really well in school, life has changed, irrevocably, and while it's better in many ways, my mind had been changed, and it's like something I've never felt before.
I don't wish this on anyone.
As the subject line states-- I'm now attempting to find a new course for my life. While I'm sure I'll find it one day, the pain between now and then is sometimes all I can bear.
On the Thursday before Mothers day 2000, mom-- my mother in law-- died. It's a day that will forever live on in my memories. Dad woke us up at 6am, and said it was time. We all gathered around, and I saw the one person who was more a mother to me than my own slipping away from us. I'd survived so much, and the doctors could do nothing for her. I lost one of the best friends I ever had in t his life that day. And you know what I did after she'd died? I left my wife alone, and went to go take a final exam. It was just part of life. One more day in the life of....
disease is cruel. Death is even more cruel. Cruel to those left behind. We lose loved ones, and are at times seemingly inconsolable. I know I'll see her again some day, but we no longer can talk, laugh, and share with her.
That summer I did a summer intership at a local research facility. My wife and I had our first actual vacation in over a decade. We went to Vancouver Island. A very cool place.
By August of 2000, I had my first of many PET scans. I learned I had yet another tumor. This time in my left groin, but my iliac vein was involved.
I learned within two weeks my own mother had metastatic lung cancer. It'd gone into her brain, adrenal gland, and bones.
Two weeks before my 3rd surgery my own mother died. The Saturday morning after T-day 2000. As I said.... life goes on.
Gotta go for now. I get up to go to work tomorrow morning. Aside from doing so to pay bills, and make my life count, I have no idea why. And yet, it's not quite as bad as it sounds....