The only thing worse than the certainty of cancer is a pathology report that falls short of confirming that fact. So, I went into Hughston Hospital on Thursday, October 14 to have a spinal biopsy of my L-2 vertebral body, hoping for the best news but with both eyes open to the possibility that my renal cell carcinoma had returned.
That biopsy fell short of proving conclusive. I was as uncomfortable as you might expect someone to be who had been punctured in the spine by a large needle. In this case, no news was really bad news. I had scheduled an appointment with a radiation oncologist at Emory Midtown Hospital in Atlanta that I had to cancel in light of this lack of a conclusive pathology report.
So, again on October 21, Jill and I rolled out of our driveway in Seale at about 5 a.m. headed to round two of the biopsy olympics at Hughston Hospital. This time, my good friend and bicycle riding buddy, Dr. Mike Gorum, got enough tissue and bone to get a definitive diagnosis. Sadly, I do have a renal cell carcinoma metastasis in my L-2 spinal vertebra. It is relatively small and should respond well to stereotactic radiosurgery.
I have been successful in getting another appointment with Dr. Liza Stapleford at Emory this Friday, October 29 at 9 a.m., where I will receive information and consultation about radiosurgery for the treatment of my spinal met. During the testing that I had prior to the first biopsy, we were able to confirm that other than this single bone metastasis, I don’t have any other apparent issues with my brain, lungs or other bony structures, the typical places where renal cell cancer would likely attack. The fact that this is my only met makes this bad news slightly more palatable.
I have done enough research now to be very confident in the radiation option as my best bet to re-take the summit of NED mountain. Extensive email conversations with Dr. John Cabelka at the John B. Amos Cancer Center have prepared me for my Friday visit and the issues we’ll soon face. I am fully ready to take this next step and confident that I’ll have a good outcome.
My only fear right now is the fear of the unknown. I’m a little fearful of going somewhere for treatment where I’m not known. Ever single local encounter I’ve had with any health care professional has been uplifting. My transparency since my diagnosis and because of my involvement with the John B. Amos Cancer Center marketing campaign has afforded me the luxury of being known by nearly 100% of the people who have treated me, drawn my blood, handled a nuclear test or even simply handed me a bag full of barium bottles that I was required to drink. If they didn’t know my name, they definitely knew my face. It has been a blessing to me throughout my treatment.
Now, it is time for this bird to be nudged out of the nest. I confess to you here that I’m as uncomfortable with having to fly as a late spring robin who has just opened his eyes. But I’ll get it done. Knowing that this cancer is spoiling to taking another shot at me has me ready to fight. Again.
I’m now officially a round-two angry, impatient, crotchety, take-no-prisoners cancer patient. I’ll be stalking the halls of Emory Midtown Hospital soon and looking for a someone to aim some curative radiation at my spinal invader. Please keep the prayers coming. Also, your posts to this blog have given me and my family such comfort. Please don’t hold back!
I remember reading a facebook post a few weeks ago from John Pezold that he was sick of reading lame, sissy happy birthday greetings from folks. He wanted people to step it up. As you know, since my diagnosis, my life has been an open book. I know that my writings here have helped people to understand what goes on in the mind of someone who is engaged in the fight of their life. I’m prepared to be candid, and maybe even cause some discomfort in the minds of my readers. Hell, I figure I ought to try to channel some of this pain and discomfort somewhere. What I’m saying is that I’m up to reading whatever you want to throw at me.
I’ve said all I need to say here. It is back. It is in my back and I’m making plans to nuke it. Keep tuned in to this blog. I’ll post often.
Sherrie says
We’re with you friend..picture us like the masses of folks that follow that Verizon dude around…..right there with you…imagine us following you through those doors at Emory and just outside the nuke chamber…..outside your window when sleeping or talking to the doc……well…you get the picture. (we won’t peek in the back of your gown though)
Nancy & Eddie says
You can take comfort in the knowledge that your faith will bring you through this very scary time for you. God has always been with you and he is not going to leave you now.
You have many, many people praying for you and you are constantly in our thoughts.
The medical people in Atlanta will give you the best that they have, so trust God and them to cure this beast once and for all.
We love you.
Jack Smith says
Mike, I have never met anyone more capable of beating cancer than you, my friend. Be strong. Our love to you and Jill. You are in my prayers.
Jack
Nancy & Eddie says
your faith will get you through this very scary time for you. God has always been with you and he is not going to leave you now
You have many,many people praying for you and you are constantly in our thoughts
The medical people in Atlanta will give you their best trust God and them to get rid of this beast once and for all.
We love you.
Kathleen says
Mike, you will definitely be in my thoughts and prayers. You will beat this again!
Knowing the people at Emory is not important. They will soon become new friends. I knew nothing of the KC Cancer Center when I was sent there. When my 6 months of chemo was over I cried. Not only because I was happy, but because I no longer had a reason to see my new friends every two weeks. They will take great care of you.
Lots of healing vibes your way!
Amy Overton says
Snatch it out, strangle it, kick it and beat it until it is dead, like only you can! You are in our prayers.
Ric, Amy & Lani Overton
Butch Wheeler says
Thanks for your uplifting attitude and willingness to face this news head on. May God bless, comfort and sustain you and Jill.
Kim Jinks says
God Love You Mike!! Don’t know how I can read this horrible news and still smirk….you have a way with words. Got my cheerleading skirt on for you!!
Allen O'Shields says
Really sorry that it is back. Really glad there is a high probability treatment! Will be following your progress and confident that it will be progress.
Debbie Davis says
Mike, Please know that we are all in your corner, hoping, praying and just thinking of you. Thanks for your open letters to keep us posted. I know it helps but cannot be easy. Love you, man!
Love you too, Jill! Your road with Mike is so very hard!
Mitch Allen (Ohio) says
Hi, Mike,
Finally doing the Facebook thing. Great looking boys you have there. Sorry I missed ya’ll last Christmas. Let’s try again this year.
My father was diagnosed with stage IV renal cell carcinoma five years ago this month. His first symptom was coughing up blood. It had already metastasized to his lungs. Probably been there for years. The doctors in Columbus suggested “Interferon and hope for the best.” They gave him a year.
Instead he went to MD Anderson in Houston.
Christopher Wood, who removed Dad’s kidney and a football-sized tumor, had removed over 1,500 kidneys. Dad did a couple of different clinical trials out there (none with placebos) and racked up some serious frequent flier points. The treatments, which included Avastin and a drug that would ultimately become Sutent, slowed the cancer significantly. Now he regularly undergoes radiation treatments for various bone metastases and has settled into a regimen locally in Columbus. Up until a couple of weeks ago he has doing Interferon and Avastin, but is now off the Interferon due to the side effects. He can handle Avastin pretty well.
For Dad, fighting cancer has become a routine, like brushing your teeth or washing your face. He often fills me in on your struggle, which he reads about in your magazine. He was supposed to be dead before my oldest daughter’s wedding last summer, and he isn’t supposed to be alive for my youngest daughter’s wedding next summer, the date of which is Dad’s 75th birthday. But he will be. 🙂
As hard as the fight has been on Dad, it’s been harder on Mom. She doesn’t know how to deal with his fading strength, which is cheating her of the happy golden years she was promised.
Here’s what I’ve learned: Take control of your own health. Research like crazy and ask a lot of questions. And don’t trust doctors who resent their patients educating themselves. BTW, since Dad’s diagnosis of kidney cancer, I have seen six friends get the same diagnosis, including you. All of them were stage I or II and all are doing fine.
Also, I lost my only brother, Michael, back in May. He was healthy and 50. Died of a seizure in his sleep after a day of sailing. He had a great job in L.A., a new fiancee, and he was happy, maybe for the first time in his life. Dad is the one with cancer. He was supposed to go first, not my brother. Unlike you and Dad, Michael never got the chance to fight what killed him.
Here’s what I’ve learned: Not everybody gets 70 years or 50 years or even 6 years. Waking up in the morning is like winning the ultimate lottery. And worrying (about anything) is joy’s cancer.
They say that most people with cancer end up dying of something else. So while you’re fighting this, don’t forget to look both ways before crossing the street. I expect that the universe has many more years planned for you.
Oh, and remember that Jill is on the front line, too.
Love to you both,
Mitch
Robert and Sara George says
Mike upon returning to the USA we were sadden to learn of your health issues. Your positive attitude and never-quit persona is a great step toward complete recovery. Please know we are standing with you and your friends praying for you.
Steve and Sherry says
Mike: Hate that word “cancer” especially when it is spoken in the same sentence with your name. Give it everything you’ve got, Mike. We will be standing right behind you with our prayers, thoughts and anything else that we have that can help! Love you both… Steve and Sherry
PAT WALDROP says
I’ve seen your strong side and I’ve seen your passionate, vulernable side and let me just say this, “You are one heck of a man who can absolutely kick this thing”!!!!! Your faith and the love of your family and friends are going to get you through this!!! Hang tough you ole booger!!!! We love you.
Sheron and Ben says
We are so sorry that you and Strainer have to go through another bout with this thing (can’t think if a word ugly enough and still printable to call it). We are confident you will prevail!! 🙂 Our thoughts and prayers are with you and your medical team.
Russ Carreker says
Mike,
I like the attitude!
I think that too often, we try to see God as “soft” and non-violent, but my perception is that He is a warrior at heart. He fights for all that is good and righteous and there are examples of that throughout the Bible.
I will lift up my prayers for your warrior spirit!
WANDA LAMB says
MIKE OUR THOUGHTS AND PRAYERS ARE WITH YOU AND JILL .TAKE CARE SWEETIE YOU ARE A FIGHTER AND SURVIVER. IF I CAN HELP ANY WAY PLEASE LET ME LOVE TO YOU,JILL AND FAMILY
Margie Ivey says
So sorry about the results. It won’t take long for everyone treating you at Emory to know and love you. You will add new friends to your already big circle of friends and you will be in good hands there too! Many prayers and thoughts will travel with you….you will win!!
Perry Ann says
Dear Mike and Jill,
Appreciate your transparency with all that is happening. You blogs are priceless, informative, and courageous. I love reading the responses from your Team Venable community. Dissapointed the war is once again on…but, maybe cancer should be considered a chronic disease, like diabetes, Parkinsons, arthritis, etc. You just keep adjusting the medical game plan and finding the most progressive ways to manage and confront the symptoms.
If friends could cure cancer, you’d have this enemy defeated.
Please know my home is your home if you need a port in the storm while in Atlanta. The professionals at Emory Midtown will fully engage with you; I trust your charisma and enthusiasm will be as contagious as pink eye!!!! Love you buddy. PAW