Jim’s Story

Site created on May 24, 2019

On April 12th Jim had a colonoscopy due to few suspicious power bricks that not even a good cup of coffee and oatmeal could solve. The procedure took place mid-morning, so Jim had been fasting and was desperately planning his next meal while he emerged from the anesthesia. As we waited for the doctor to recap the procedure, we lightheartedly made a plan to eat in Falls Church just to check out a new neighborhood. When the doctor entered, our mood changed as he cut right to the chase, “we’re looking at a case of rectal cancer here.” He showed us a three centimeter tumor in his rectum and dozens of pre-cancerous polyps in his colon. The news was devastating and scary because it came out of nowhere. He has no family history of cancer and had experienced very few symptoms.

The days that followed were incredibly hard. We went a week not knowing how advanced the cancer was, all the while keeping it together in front of the kids. We are fortunate to have friends who are like family that immediately helped us find contacts at John’s Hopkins in Baltimore. We were then swept up into the amazing care system there. Jim underwent a variety of tests and scans and we met with a panel of doctors who reviewed Jim’s case specifically. Each doctor visited with us privately, which was incredibly informative and calming. They explained the following: Jim has stage three rectal cancer (T3N2M0) which basically means that it has spread to a few lymph nodes in the surrounding area, but spread to other organs in his body has not been detected. Doctors are overall optimistic that he will be cured. They were upfront that they do not say this unless they can back up their diagnosis, so we have let ourselves believe that, despite the long haul ahead of us, Jim will be OK by this time next year.

So far Jim has gone through a form of intense radiation that targeted the tumor and one round of chemotherapy. He will have three more rounds of chemotherapy (June 11th, June 25th, and July 9th) followed by surgery towards the end of August to remove his entire colon and part of his rectum (we are cool with butt jokes now if you have any). After surgery he will go through four more months of chemo and then a final reconstructive surgery this winter.

Right now we are just so thankful for our support system. Our parents (Rita/Rob and Grant/Sue) have rented an apartment in our neighborhood so that someone is always here to help with the kids. Rita and Rob have taken the first shift and have been amazing by helping  with the cooking, cleaning, and logistics of having three kids. Rita is in full Mama Bear (her new nickname) mode, researching immunity boosting smoothies and caloric meals for her baby boy. Ayana, Jim’s sister, lives close and has brought food (and love....and tequila) over whenever we need it. Every person who has harbored this news with us has been an amazing support so far and for that we are incredibly grateful.

We did not come out and tell people right away in order to protect Grace from hearing anything at school or in our neighborhood, so that’s why this might be the first you’re hearing of it. We told the kids last weekend and they are more curious than sad or scared. Jim has tolerated the radiation and chemo like the Big Daddy Grizz that he is, so the kids haven’t been exposed to very much yet. If you are in our neighborhood we ask that you only discuss this with your kids if they bring it up, and please stress to any children that Jim is going to be OK.



Again, we are so fortunate to have such a loving support system. We will keep you updated!







Newest Update

A-

Journal entry by Megan Moos Detweiler —

Since I will never have my shit together enough to send out a Holiday card, here is what I can get my shit together enough to send! We got an A-!

Finally. I don’t think you ever get that actual pure overachiever A if you have cancer, so A- is the actual best grade you can get. After four years of for-real-for-real just not ever knowing if we would get that good news that you really want, we got it. Clear scans. Clear scopes. Full-on no cancer. It’s kind of surreal to hear that there is a clear bill of health to celebrate for the first time since April of 2019. With that also comes intense survivor guilt, but that’s because this disease is so real and has begun to affect so many young people. If you had a tamagotchi, a raspberry lemonade lip smacker or you are team backstreet boys (Nsync = nope), get your ass checked people. Seriously. 

There will never be a time when the worry and angst completely dissolves, but we do get to live another 11 months in relative peace. May, the 12th month, scan month, is riddled with stress and coping mechanisms like stupidly opting to coach kindergarten soccer, and mediocre public school track teams, fights about birthday parties (the actual worst part of parenting in this era), and heart-wrenching silence because we both know how dark things could get. 

Big Daddy won’t ever eat another caesar salad or Wendy’s spicy chicken sandwich, but this man can roll with pretty much anything after what he has been through. No “man flu” here. Plus we have the same bidet as Beyonce and Jay-Z, which I highly recommend. The new normal is an adjustment in so many ways, but if you’ve got an A-, it’s hard to complain. And he doesn’t. 

I feel like maybe we are cancer wizards now. Not Hermione/Harry level, but possibly Luna level. Stick with me here cancer muggles - we can see thestrals because we’ve been through some shit, but for now we get to wear those glasses that she wears. She sees creatures that others can’t with those glasses, and we have this shitty struggle going on that is mostly invisible on the surface. But Luna survives because she is a boss. And Big Daddy is a boss because he made it to the four year mark. One more year and he is considered CURED. 

That’s it. Happy holidays…aka scan month. Hope I never have to post one of these ever again. 

Read More of the journal titled "A-"
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