In the sixteen years since I was first diagnosed with cancer, and the decade since my last treatment, there have been a handful of times when Cancer has returned to punch me in the gut.
Today is my 37th birthday and the 10-year anniversary of the day I lost the last of my testicles. Here I share a few thoughts on manhood, courage and genitals.
MCA was my favorite Beastie, and though I’ve always rooted for those guys as underdogs, I’ve been rooting just that much harder for him these past few years.
At some point this spring I realized that five years had passed since I’d had any indication of cancer in my body. As much as I am grateful and hopeful and excited by that… the moment really just passed without any fanfare or even so much as a high-five.
When I was 21 I was diagnosed with cancer.
Testicular cancer actually, which was kind of en vogue in 2000. Celebrities like Lance Armstrong (hardly a celebrity before his cancer) and Tom Green (remember Tom Green?) were making national headlines enduring treatments and starting a very important conversation about the risk of testicular cancer among young men.
Turns out it really isn’t so glamorous.
This week I finally heard back from my doctor in Cleveland…