In June of 2024 I was recovering from a hysterectomy that was the result of late stage endometriosis. It was my first day home from the hospital and I was sending message to friends letting them know that I made it through and that I was home resting.

I messaged my long time friend (and when I say long time… I mean we’ve known each other since the 2nd grade and we’re in our 40’s now), and he responded with surprise, I evidently hadn’t mentioned to him that I was having it done. We caught up a little, he filled me in on some of the more tragic health things that were going on with some of his local friends. Nearly 20 years prior he had traded one peninsula state for another and made it his home, and the warm weather suits him.

2 days later I got word that he had been hospitalized with a testicular cancer diagnosis.

Before they even operated they knew it had metastasized, but they wouldn’t know if it was an easily treatable cancer until after they removed it and examined it. He seemed in high enough spirits prior to the surgery, joking through text, reassuring me that he had lots of local support in spite of his biological family not being there.

Surgery was the next day, but there were complications. He threw a blood clot in his abdomen and they had to install an IVC filter to catch it in the event that it broke loose and headed for his lungs and heart. Because of the blood clot, after the surgery he was on strict bed rest for 6 days before he was allowed to start physical therapy to recover from being restricted. And was released from the hospital the next day. The biggest consistent complaint he voiced about the hospital was how often they were drawing blood, I put spin on it like I was pitching a new medical drama “Dracula MD, where ancient and modern medical practice meet but the main character has to manage his addiction to blood.”

The next several months were a barrage of chemo appointments, scans, blood work, and eventually blood transfusions because the chemo was driving his hemoglobin levels dangerously low. By early October he had completed the chemotherapy treatment and all of the blood work and scans were saying he was in remission. All was right again, well… except that every bit of hair on him had fallen out as a result of the chemo, leaving him looking like Neo from The Matrix when he is first extracted from the pod. But (spoiler) it all grew back, and super soft like baby hair… I know because he asked me to trim the hair on his neck line when we saw him in January.

Another couple of months pass, we’re in pretty constant communication through October and then things got busy on my end and I didn’t get a chance to message him again til his birthday in December. But I didn’t get a response. Christmas season had me in a frenzy and I figured he was busy with work or friends so I didn’t think anything of it. 10 days later I got a some pictures and a message from him stating he had been in the ICU for the whole week of his birthday. When I asked him what happened he said “Just a brain hemorrhage and tumor”. And the pathology report confirmed that the tumor was genetically identical to the testicular cancer that had been removed in June.

As soon as I established that he was home from the hospital and not opposed to visitors, I booked 3 round trip flights for me, my husband and our daughter to fly down in the beginning of January. We flew in, rented a car, drove to his house… and when he opened that door I don’t think I’ve ever hugged him so tightly before. We visited for a few days, even drove him to his consultation for radiology at the VA. By the time we had to fly home, I was bolstered by his confidence and was convinced that he was going to pull through this.

At this point I began making a concerted effort to message him weekly. “Wednesday wellness check” I only half jokingly called it… but lets face it, he’s been one of my best friends for a VERY long time, he’s the only reason Joe and I met, and he is one of my daughter’s 2 honorary uncles… I wasn’t about to not support him through this journey. He had 1 more brain scan to submit to before starting radiation therapy, and with that scan they discovered that in the 2 months since the tumor had been surgically removed, it had completely grown back.

As you can imagine, this sounded devastating. Not only had the cancer spread to his brain, but it was highly aggressive. The plan for radiation therapy stayed on course, I’m sure there were some tweaks in terms of the strength and duration of the treatments but because the tumor was isolated and not spreading the did not do whole brain radiation. After the radiation was complete, he couldn’t have a follow up scan until the end of March, and that scan showed that the tumor had reduced in size by 1/3.

Fast forward to April. Our messages are sometimes still weekly, but more often they are bi-weekly. I still send little updates about things going on here, and goofy pictures of my nephew when I’m baby sitting (they have never met, and my nephew is now 6). I messaged him on Easter, and didn’t get a response… odd, but I know he can be busy sometimes. Then I messaged him on Wednesday, again with no response. After trying to call him twice and his phone going straight to voicemail I got concerned enough to reach out to his mother.

While I didn’t get the worst news I could get, it was still a gut punch. My long time friend, my brother by choice, was in the hospital with another brain hemorrhage. It occurred on Easter, he was supposed to be transported to a hospital that could perform the necessary surgery on Monday but they had no beds. Its now Thursday and he STILL hasn’t been moved and still hasn’t gotten the pressure in his skull relieved or the bleeding in his brain treated! His mother flew out to see him and found a hotel near the hospital he was supposed to be transported to, but since there have been delays in his transportation she hasn’t seen him in several days. She has agreed to keep us in the loop and suggested that I try calling him on the phone in his room, that “he might answer” and that it had started to seem like he was giving up hope.

Joe has a nervous energy, something ranging between a pacing caged animal wanting to strike and a rabbit. He wants to be there, to help, to support, in any way that he can… I wish I could be there to help too, but we both know there is nothing we could personally do to directly help the situation. So for now, we offer our support from a distance, support for him and for his local support team. I sent our friend a text message that I know he won’t read for a little while still, telling him how I found out about him being in the hospital and how Joe wants to drive down there like some knight in a shiny red pickup truck 😂

I intend to call him tomorrow when it isn’t so insanely late, in some ways I hope that the hospital will tell me that he’s been transferred because at least then I will know that he’s finally getting the treatment that he so immediately needs.

Ultimately I’m afraid that I will call and get to talk to him, and that my voice will betray my fear and worry, but I also don’t want to try to force feed him false optimism.

Part 2:

Part 3:

Part 4:

Conclusion: