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CANCER...I really hate that word. It is the devil we've chased in this family for too many years. First, it was my husband's dad, then it was my husband's aunt, followed by my father. Then it was my sweet boy. It always sits like a guillotine above our heads. We have a new date. 6/7/2017. Cancer has struck our household again. Maybe the date should be 9/11/2001. My husband like so many brave men and women heeded the call for help. Senseless destruction was followed by the selfless response. Now 16 years later, it rears its head as an early-stage, high-grade carcinoma of the bladder. Carcinoma should be an Italian entree instead of a bunch of evil cells.
Removed with an expert surgeon's blade, faced with a 30-70 percent chance of return, we face further examination of another mass in the prostate, most likely if it is cancer, it's a completely different type. After that is decided and heals, immunotherapy begins with BCA which cuts the recurrence to 7.5- 35 percent recurrence.
We are back to the world of percentages and procedures. Not really sure how to feel about this. Should I be angry or numb? Should i what if? All I can say is this sucks.