Chapter Two ;  Strike One

  It was Sunday night, and for some reason I still did not have all my lessons plans done for the upcoming week. It was also "health" week, my least favorite. Two weeks of each quarter's Physical Education class was Health. I went to school that evening to figure out what to teach for the week. I went to school, sat down at my test and plotted what to do.

   The easiest thing to do was find some worksheets and handouts to do. I don't remember if football was over, or in the last week, but time was short. I also taught five different history classes, so I had a lot of prep work to do each week. Luckily in terms of health class I had a three ring binder of 500 health handouts. My old standby.

   I reached down to the bottom left drawer of my desk and pulled out the binder. Even today this all seems so clear. I tossed the binder on the desk and it made a loud thump that echoed in the empty school. The binder opened up about half way in the middle. I took a drink of coke, and pulled my chair up to the desk. Looking down at the pages before me, I noticed where it had opened too. The page on the left talked about "breast self examination". The opposite page talked about "testicular self examination". I read and thought maybe this should be something of value to go over in health class.

    I read the pages, and performed the testicular self examination on myself. According to the book, my right testicle was abnormal. Immediately I simply attributed it to the "hit" I had taken at football practice a week or two before. I decided on something else for heath, wrote it up, and went home. Something wasn't quite right, but cancer had yet to enter the picture. It just never occurred to me.

   I have always been a worrier. Always. There were times I would "what if" myself to death. Anxiety and panic run in the family. So, I choose to be a coach. Don't figure. I worried for 12 strait hours.

  Monday morning I called the clinic in Miles City, which is 90 miles away. I spoke to a nurse about the possibility of something being wrong. She agreed I should get check, and it just so happened there was a urologist from Billings, Dr. Melzer, who would be in town the next day.  I got a substitute and on Tuesday I headed to Miles City. Of course by now I was worried, but having "cancer" still was not a possibility. I was firmly convinced I must have ruptured something when I had been hit.

   Blood tests and and exam and the doctor pronounced that it was testicular cancer. I had read the handout three days ago and I swear that was the first time I had ever heard the words "testicular cancer." Things were happening way too fast. 

  At that point I don't know who made decisions. I don't know if Carol was there, or just me, or the doctor decided for me. I was in a daze that would continue for two years. That afternoon and Wednesday we informed family and friends. I told the school what was happening.  I was in shock. I cried, sobbed, yelled, screamed. Part of me was still in denial, still convinced it was just a rupture.

  On  a Thursday in November I had surgery to remove the testicle, five days after I had discovered something wrong. It seems like a dream today. It all happened so fast and I was in shock. Years later the doctors would say I even had some delayed stress syndrome as my mind fought to deny any of what was happening. I remember laying on the gurney, flying through the hospital hallways, and the operating room. For a long time the O.R. gave me problems. The anesthesiologists talked to me, as did the doctors and nurses. There was music playing. It was all so routine for them. Then the anesthesiologist told me he was going to put me to sleep, and it went dark. Dark dark! Like lights out, slam the door, boom! It would freak me for a long time.

  I woke up slowly. I was still groggy when my wife told me it was cancer. I cried again. For some reason I still held out hope it was something else, even though the doctors by now had confirmed through blood tests that it was cancer. I remember seeing my parents. Slowly the grogginess wore off. I was put in a temporary room. I had the option of being released that afternoon, but we decided I would stay the night. I don't know if I slept or not, my mind whirled continuously.

Friday morning I got out of the hospital and we headed home, a trip of 200 miles. The worst part in regards to pain was from the air trapped inside my body. Once it worked its way out I recovered pretty fast. At home I slept and wrote lesson plans. Before long I was back at school. Of course the worst part was still to come - the radiation treatments, and the mind numbing "worrying". In the meantime basketball practice started Thanksgiving weekend. I ran practices from the sidelines, and tried to pretend nothing was wrong. It worked for a couple of weeks.