First off, I will just say that I've already accepted that my wife Missie is smarter and better looking than me; but being too far ahead of me in telling our story is where I want to draw the line. I will do my best to post two updates a week, likely during the weekends. I hope you enjoy.
I want to try to give the man's perspective on our story. I can tell you, the heartbreak of not being able to have children the "regular" way is by no means only felt by the women. It affects him too, but in different ways. You feel angry, and in some cases, less of a man.
Now Missie (who in my previous post was referred to as "M", but she has OK'd the use of her name), talked about the question, "do you have kids?" And some of the obtuse reactions we get when we say no. Another caveat to that version that cooks my grits (when in Rome) is when parents complain about their kids and inform me, "well you don't have kids, you wouldn't possibly understand." So I respond with my typical, "Who told you to have kids." That is usually followed by silence. Another favorite of ours that left us without a good response was a woman we knew in California who had three kids declaring how "lucky" we were that we didn't have kids. Really? If you only knew...
After my second tour in Iraq, we decided we were going to start trying. I have always wanted to be a father. I'll admit I constantly think about all the things I plan to teach my son or daughter someday; Geography being at the top. I'll be damned if my kid is that x% of kids that cannot find the United States on a map.
After trying a considerable amount of times, it just wasn't happening. Now Missie had already been to the doctor a couple times so the next thing we thought, maybe it was me. So it was my turn.
Ah, the dreaded cup. Yes, I had to provide a specimen of the boys. I will admit, it was not the ideal conditions for doing so. No soft lighting or "reading material" for assistance, just a public restroom in a doctor's office, with super bright fluorescent lighting, and an old man pounding on the outside telling me to hurry up. Hurry up I did. Bottom line up front, I had a very low count. Here comes the ultrasound. A civilian Urologist in Kansas found I had a varicocele. Think of varicose veins in your leg; same thing, just in your crotch. Larger veins = slower blood flow = low sperm count. I needed it to go.
Exactly three days before leaving Kansas for California I had the surgery, called a varicocelectomy, where they would essentially synge down the veins, causing the blood to flow faster. 2% chance of it persisting were the chances. To add to the fun, during one last minute ultrasound before surgery, the Doc found a small mass in the left testicle. With no time to lose, I approved her to go ahead and remove it. I didn't think it was a big deal; a great naval Commander would inform me later it likely was.
Surgery over, varicocele done, off to California we go. We were stationed at Fort Irwin, a "lovely" little outpost in the middle of the Mojave High Desert. "In the Middle of Everywhere", the commanding general would proclaim. 2.5 hours to Vegas, 3.5 hours to San Diego, and 1.5 hours to L.A., so I guess that was an accurate description. First thing we did was get plugged back into the fertility fun. One advantage to being stationed there, and the lack of medical services available on post; we got referred to the west coast Mecca of military medical care, the Naval Medical Center at San Diego; hands down the finest medical facility I believe exists.
First things first, the plastic cup. After one sample, we got the call; Azoospermic was the result. Azoospermic essentially means a zero sperm count (shooting blanks I believe is the slang). Obviously thinking it may be a faulty test, I did it again. Azoospermic again. There was no mistake, something was wrong down there. I was referred to the great naval Commander, Doctor (CDR) D.C., the chief Urologist and Fertility Specialist at NMCSD, basically "the" guy to see. If you have never been inside a Urologists office, you need to. Lets just say that cartoon penis calendars are all the rage for these guys. Dr. D.C. would become another key stranger in our journey.
Monday, 09 March 2009: Dr. CDR D.C. would get right to work. He ordered a testicular ultrasound. If you've never had one, imagine another stranger rubbing jelly-like stuff on your "package" and running a wand over it. Not too bad. I had undergone the ultrasound, and was done. Missie and I decided to enjoy a beautiful sunny day walking around San Diego.
After an hour or so of grabbing some coffee and enjoying the sun, my cell phone rang. It was Dr. CDR D.C. himself calling. Now if you have ever tried to get a hold of your doctor for something, you know it can be almost impossible, but for him to call you on your cell phone, you know it couldn't be good. "That thing has to go immediately" he said. Referring to my right testicle. Basically my right boy was essentially one big mass of stuff that wasn't supposed to be there. He wanted to operate immediately, but we decided it could wait a couple days.
Friday, 13 March 2009: I underwent a Right Orchiectomy (Removal of a Testicle). Oh, and Missie's Grandparents were visiting that day. Talk about perfect timing.
Fast forwarding ahead a bit; the testicle was gone and studied. Dr. D.C. referred me to oncology, where I would meet another stranger, Dr. Lieutenant Commander "Chuck" Norris; who would confirm I had stage 2B testicular cancer, and would prescribe four rounds of etoposide and cisplatin chemotherapy. Each round would be five days long spread out three weeks apart. So basically Missie and I got a five day "vacation" in San Diego every three weeks. It would actually be the most relaxing part of this journey.
Dr. D.C. and Chuck Norris both had one question, what was in that left testicle? Remember, the "mass" removed in Kansas? I got them the lab results and everything I could get from that Doctor. They were basically very disappointed with this other Urologist believing that they should have seen this then. They found a mass around my left kidney, evidence that the mass in the testicle was likely a germ cell tumor. Oh well, they didn't, so here we are. I was left with one damaged testicle. Azoospermic forever, here I come.
Oh, one more thing, my Varicocile persisted...
No comments:
Post a Comment