I distinctly remember thinking about my own death. It sounds weird or even disturbed I guess but I was the the little brother of a dead boy, and I used to wonder if I was going to die too. He died of a brain tumor that spread to his spine and couldn't be treated with chemotherapy. Radiation therapy didn't work either. He was 5 when he died, just about Eva's age right now, and I remember anticipating my 6th as if it was some sort of finish line. After my 6th birthday I remember thinking, 'OK, I made it, I am safe now...' Morbid for a 6 year old, I know, but also quite optimistic. Poor kid right?
Two weeks ago I was diagnosed with testicular cancer. Almost 28 years after my 6th birthday, my luck ran out I guess. It took the urologist about 6 seconds to determine that I had a tumor. He said "pull your pants up and sit down...ok you have cancer." Not a surprise really but sudden and coldly delivered. I had been feeling discomfort and really pain on my left testicle for about two months. Two weeks before my appointment I started getting acne all over my torso and then my nipples started hurting. So I knew this was coming, but the delivery was cold and sudden. He told me I needed surgery, probably the next day, and I would lose the testicle. The rest of the appointment I barely remember. All I could think about was my kids and who was going to take care if them, who was going to teach my class, and other non cancer things. I didn't cry cry in front of him, I waited till I got out the the car, and called my girlfriend. I couldn't hold back then.
