There were no colorful wristbands with my name on them. There was no 5k walk in my honor. My family and close friends didn’t shave their heads. Yet I was not alone in my battle against cancer this year. The year could have not started off worse, but it has been one of the best years of my life.

Last December I experienced a pain in my back. I woke up one morning thinking I just slept wrong. The pain was located in lower back right on the left-hand side above my kidneys. As the week progressed, the pain did not go away. People get pain all the time, and it’s just a part of life. I didn’t see the need to mention it to anyone because I didn’t want to appear weak.

Two weeks passed, and the pain was getting progressively worse. Now it felt like a fist pressed against my kidneys; the pain was not just an annoyance. Driving in my car was problematic because I could not sit. I kept trying to turn and find a comfortable position. I was unable to sit still for any extended amount of time making sitting on hard seats in class unbearable. Yet, I trucked on for another week without telling anyone.

One evening after school I was lying on the coach and I rolled off and let out a scream. I had enough. My parents ran into the living room to find me rolling on the floor groaning. They promptly asked me what was wrong. I told them that my back pain has not gone away and was getting worse. I made an appointment with my doctor. His first impressions were that it may be kidney stones. He ordered an ultra sound and a blood test.

The ultra sound test revealed that there was a mass the size of an egg [roughly 3.5 cm] in my lower left abdomen. I was sickened and relieved at the same time. Sickened that the mass could be cancerous and relieved that they knew what was causing me all this pain.

I was referred to Dr. Wayne Kiser, an oncologist. He had treated my grandfather seven years earlier for cancer. I had a CT scan of my testicles, a needle biopsy of the tumor and then a follow-up appointment to hear the results.

I sat in the lobby, my legs bouncing fifty times a minute. My stomach was uneasy. As patients staggered slowly out of the treatment center, looking frail and battered from their treatments, I wondered if my fate would be the same.

On Jan. 26th I was diagnosed with stage II testicular cancer. Dr. Kiser explained how a cell broke off from my left testicle and sprouted in my back causing me pain. As Dr. Kiser outlined what lay ahead for my family and I, all I could hear was one word replaying in my head: cancer. It felt like a Toyota Prius hit me in a parking lot, this slow moving thing snuck up on me and it was going to change my life forever. I looked over at my mom to see her in tears. She was trying her best to hold them back. According to the National Cancer Institute, there are 8,000 cases of Testicular Cancer a year, most commonly in men age 15 to 34.

I left the doctors office to head back to Santa Rosa Junior College to cover a women’s basketball game for The Oak Leaf Newspaper. It was a short drive, but a thousand thoughts ran through my mind. My thoughts started out about little things. How do I tell my family and friends? What am I going to do about work? Am I going to continue to go to the JC? As I drove, my mind drifted to larger questions about life. What if I will no longer be able to have kids? What will the long-term effects of chemo have on my body? What if I die?

As I parked my car I picked up to my cell phone and called my grandparents to tell them the news. The news silenced them for a few seconds. They were supportive, and they knew what I was going to be going through because my grandpa was a cancer survivor. They told me it would be hard but it was nothing that I coudn’t handle and that I would come out a better person. I then called my Starbucks manager, Nicole, to let her know that I was going to need time off from work. I have known Nicole for four years and she has been like an older sister to me. Nicole knew something was wrong right away when I called. My voice trembled as I told to her that I had cancer, and I would be doing chemotherapy for three month. She told me that if I needed anything that would be there. I must have blind-sided her by the news because she was shocked.

After my phone calls I headed down to Haelh Pavilion to cover the game. I must have covered 20 games before and have never had a problem staying focused and keeping notes. This game was different. I felt like I should be home with my family. My entire life I have loved sports, but that was the first time I was not at a game mentally.

The following week on Monday I underwent more tests including a MRI scan of my brain and another CT scan. I had an appointment with my doctor about the removal of my left testicle.

The night before my surgery I tried to sleep, but I lay on my bed staring at the roof. My surgery was scheduled for early in the morning. This was my first hurdle in dealing with cancer. I was a little nervous, but I knew that it was going be alright. The surgery was an hour. I was able to return home that afternoon. Surprisingly, I did not experience any pain from the incision. The only pain was from the tumor.

The following day around noon my doorbell rang. It was Nicole, along with another girl from work with an orchid and card signed by the rest of the girls at Starbucks, wishing me a speedy recovery. Two days later Nicole returned with five more cards from customers who had heard about my cancer. She also brought me a pile of movies and candy. We chatted for a while about Safeway business, and she reassured me that I was going to be alright.

I spent the weekend resting in bed and on the couch. Walking at first took some getting used to. I was still in severe pain from the tumor in my back. I didn’t want to do anything but sleep. However, I remained in high spirits because I was trying not to over think my situation. In a few months I would be back to not sleeping from working full time and going to the JC. I’d rather not sleep from being too busy than from going through chemo.

Monday was my first chemotherapy treatment. My chemotherapy schedule was to go for five days; that was one set. Then in two weeks I was scheduled to go through another set. At first that I was suppose to have 20 treatments or four sets.

My appointment was at 8 a.m. and I was the first one there. I had no idea what to expect. The treatment center is in the back of the office. The room was larger than I expected. There were eight chairs on each side and a nurses station in the middle. The nurse Mara gave a brief explanation of what I should expect. I sat in a nice leather recliner seat overlooking south Santa Rosa. They put the IV in my left arm and I sat there for four hours as the drip system ran. First was the hydration bag that took about 45 minutes. Then was the Cisplatin that took about an hour and a half. The next one was Etopside and that took an hour and a half. Last was a small hydration bag. I did not feel any different that day. Dr. Kiser said it could take four or five days till I felt the effects.

During my fours hours I watched movies on a portable DVD player. Mara provided me with a lot of ‘80s movies. When I was done with the movie I sat and stared at the clock. I did not talk to anybody in the chairs next to me. Most of them were reading or taking a nap, and I had no idea what to say. So I kept to myself.

As the week progressed I did not notice much of a change. If anything I was tired, and groggy. Friday came, and I made it through my first week. However, leaving the center I started feeling sick to my stomach. The affects of the chemotherapy were starting to take place. I went straight to bed and did not feel like eating. My parents called the doctor to get me some stron
ger nausea medicine because the one I was taking was not working.

The weekend was horrible. I had no appetite. Nothing sounded good. I slept for a good part of the weekend and was starting to feel exhausted. My energy level plummeted from not eating and the chemo. The following week was worse. The chemo made me vomit, it gave me the chills and a fever. My day consisted of watching sports shows, having three small meals and many naps. Sometimes I got tired going from my bed to the couch only 30 feet away.

Chemotherapy is known to make people’s hair fall out. And sure enough mine started to fall out about 14 days after my first treatment. Not a lot at first. The idea of being bald intrigued me. I always wondered what I would look like with no hair. This was not how I wanted to find out, but life goes on and that is how I approached dealing with cancer. Life goes on.

I dealt with cancer the only way I knew how. I was going to be stubborn. I refused to believe I was not going to be fine. I was going to get through it and then continue my life; this was only a speed bump. The last week of February my hair started coming out in big chunks in the shower. When I got out I had about four spots with no hair. The next day I shaved my head to avoid random bald spots.

Five days before my next set of chemotherapy, two friends from high school visited me. My nausea was slowly becoming tolerable. Since I rarely left the house other than to go to the doctor we decided to go and see the movie, Shutter Island. We had an awesome time. The movie sparked a debate on the ending of the film.

When I went back for my second set of chemotherapy I had my blood drawn and was weighed. I was 143. I had lost 13 lbs in three weeks. My treatments seemed to go as they did before, except this time the effects from chemotherapy seemed worse. I felt good until about Thursday. I felt nauseated, my appetite had diminished, and my energy had disappeared. However, there was one food that I did crave while on chemo: macaroni and cheese with hotdogs.

During my two weeks off of chemo I watched movies. Sometimes I watched two or three a day. I didn’t feel like doing anything else. I was so tired and the nausea had me feeling sick constantly. My hair was gone on my head, arms, eyebrows, legs. My skin had become pale like chalk, and I continued to lose more weight. It was safe to say I looked like I had cancer.

Near the end of March I strolled into the Safeway Starbucks where I work. I noticed there was a flier on the door. It was a 21st birthday party for me! Nicole was setting up a surprise birthday party for me at Howarth Park on April 3. I was really excited.

I showed up around 12:30 p.m. at Howarth Park to find balloons on four tables. Two of the tables were covered with chips, crackers, a vegetable tray, a fruit tray and cookies. Two coolers filled with soft drinks. One of the tables had three poster boards signed by people I work with and loyal coffee drinkers I have gotten to know over the past few years. There must have been fifty signatures on each card. By 2 p.m. more than 35 people ranging from close relatives to Jim Fox, a loyal Safeway shopper who gets a tall hazelnut latte every day. Many people stopped by for a few minutes to say “hi” and drop off a card. When the party was drawing near a close. Mr. Bartow showed up. Mr. Bartow has been the store manager for more than 20 years. He also donated all the food, drinks, plates, cups and napkins. He said he wanted to personally wish me a happy birthday and grab a piece of cake. The party was tremendous. It was a lot of fun to so many of people I hadn’t seen in a while.

I returned for my third set of chemo with a low white blood cell count. It was so low that Dr. Kiser postponed my treatments for another week hoping that my white blood cell count would improve.

The following week my blood count was back up. I had five days left of chemo and was excited to be one step closer to being back to normal. Unfortunately, my last week did not go well. The affects of the chemo seemed to take place the first day. I was drained. I did my best to stay positive knowing that I had only four more treatments, but I was frustrated with not feeling good. Chemo makes you feel worthless. Lying in bed all day only made matters worse.

On Tuesday I broke out in hives. My entire body was full of red dots. I had an allergic reaction to the steroid they were giving me called Dexamethasone. My last day of chemo I was as happy as a sick person could be. I was exhausted. I did not want to go. I felt like I had just run a 5k race and had a horrible hangover. My body was the sorest it has ever been and all my energy was zapped. As I sat in the car before my final treatment I said, “I hope I can do this.” I put on a smile and gingerly walked to the treatment center and sat in the closest chair by the door. “Only four hours till I could ring the bell,” I kept telling myself. There was a bell the patients rang when they are done with chemo.

Today was my day to ring the bell. Ringing the bell I had mixed emotions. I was so glad to be done. On the other hand, as people clapped, I knew that they had more treatments and not everyone would get the chance to ring the bell.

I was getting close to being done with cancer. There was one more hurdle standing in my way. This one was the one I was dreading most. My tumor had to be removed along with all the lymph nodes around the tumor. I was referred to Dr. Maxwell Meng at University California San Francisco [UCSF]. Dr. Meng specialized in this kind of surgery and is considered one of the best. I met Dr. Meng for a consultation and he told me I could have the surgery done in June. I was looking at a five-day hospital stay and a six-week recovery period.

The surgery required to make an incision right below my rib cage down to my belly button. Then they would remove my intestines to get to the tumor and remove it. Then they would have to remove all of the cancerous cells around the tumor. The surgery would be about four and half hours.

I had more than a month until my surgery. I spent the first half recovering from chemo. I must have watched around 50 movies, some more than once. I still had little to no energy. I was bored, but I never felt alone. My friends texted me at least once a week asking how I was doing. I must have missed about six close friends’ 21st birthdays because I was too exhausted to go out and celebrate. On my 21st birthday I learned that chemo and alcohol do not mix.

About two weeks before my surgery I was feeling healthier. The World Cup was about to start and I was stoked. I went down to a friend’s house to who was having a World Cup extravaganza. We drank most of the night then got two hours of sleep to wake up early for the first match only to start drinking again. I had a fantastic time.

The day before my surgery I drove down to San Francisco to stay in a hotel with my parents since I had to check in an hour before my 7:30 a.m. surgery. I was unable to eat all day. I had to take a laxative. It was in full force around 5:30 that night. Between having anxiety and trips to the bathroom every 20 minutes I was awake all night. This was the only time I was scared. There was some risk in the surgery. The tumor was located near some large blood vessels.

I don’t remember much of the day of my surgery. I remember being very quiet and short with the nurses as I was being prepped for surgery. I rolled out of the operating room at about 1 p.m. I was in recovery for another two hours. The surgery went great except I lost a little blood. Most of my time in the hospital I slept. I was cancer free.

My stay in the hospital was surprisingly eventful. My mom spent the week there keeping me company and providing moral support. The following day I met legendary coa
ch and broadc
ster John Madden. He was walking past my room when my step dad stopped him and asked if he could get a picture with me. After the picture he stayed for a few minutes. I told him what I had been going through the last few months. Sadly his son has cancer and is getting treatment at UCSF. He was in his 40s and had prostate cancer. During my stay he stopped again to check on me.

The following day, four of my friends from the newspaper made the trip to UCSF. The next day I had two more friends from high school come to see me as well. We reminisced about better times and how more good times were to come. I felt hopeless lying in the bed seeing them and hearing stories about their crazy nights.

Up to this point I had not eaten anything in five days. Dr. Meng started me off on a liquid and soft food diet like pudding and gelatin. On Friday night I was set to have my first meal. I was given three options, and I choose the chicken and rice. Unfortunately, shortly after eating the meal I was unable to keep it down.

The nights were the worst part about my stay. Every two hours I had to get my blood and my temperature checked. This was done 24 hours a day. On the third day I was to get up and walk three times. This was no easy feat. It took me awhile to sit up and get out of bed. Then walking, I could only go about 10 feet. I got dizzy and everything started to go black. The next day I did a little better; I walked four times and made it to the nurses station down the hall. By Saturday I was able to do three laps around the hospital wing.

I went home on Sunday. The ride back was painful because the seatbelt was pressing up against my on my stomach. The crappy roads did not help. Every pothole felt like we were driving into a ditch.

During my six-week recovery of my surgery I was to be on a low-calorie diet. I love food. The thought of eating healthy three times a day did not sit well with me. This meant no double decker ham, cheese, lettuce and tomato sandwiches, no mini-corn dogs and worst of all no Cheez-ITs.

I took walks around my block everyday to get my strength back. I was nearing the end. I was looking forward to going back to work. The thing I missed most was human interaction. I missed getting up early to go to work and school. I missed late nights hanging out with my friends.

I went back to work August I was out for more than seven months. I didn’t miss a beat when it came to making drinks. I still remembered customers’ drinks that I hadn’t made in a long time.

I met my replacement Chantel who had become good friends with Nicole. After working with her a few times, I knew why. I hung out with her and Crystalbelle, another girl I work with, for two months. It seemed like we were together every night. We had several adventures including hikes at Annadel, a trip to the beach and the river. Hanging out with them I felt like I was a part of something special. Every time we hung out seemed like an instant classic.

I felt like a 21-year-old, not a cancer patient. I was no longer a cancer patient; I was a cancer survivor.