My First Post
6/4/24: Ollie (21 months) and I waiting for the Garbage Truck.
Hi. My name is Mikey. I was diagnosed with Stage 4 Pancreatic Cancer at 29 years old and am now in remission. This is my story and where I am at today.
“Michael, your appointment is at 3:30 PM on Tuesday, February 22, 2022. See you then!”
That is the confirmation text for my first appointment to address the lower back pain I had been experiencing for a couple of months. It is also the beginning of my story.
As time went on, the back pain got worse and eventually became unbearable. I had seen multiple back specialists, physical therapists, chiropractors, and neuromuscular experts, all who could give me no answers. It got to the point where I was taking 8 or more Advil a day, barely sleeping at night, spending hours a day bent over in hot showers, and had no energy or will to do anything. Resting was extremely difficult. Staying active was impossible. It took every ounce of energy I had to get through the days at work. Despite the pain, I knew I had to provide for my family—the most amazing wife, Emma, our beautiful one-year-old son, Oliver, and our two perfect pups, Lily and Luna. I knew I had to keep going for as long as I could.
About a year and a half after that first appointment, my primary care doctor ran some blood tests and ordered an ultrasound that ultimately led to more blood tests, a CT scan, a PET scan, and my referral to an oncologist. Within just a few days, on August 6, 2023, I was officially diagnosed with Stage 4 Pancreatic Cancer. It had spread to my liver and lymph nodes. I was terrified of the future, but at least I finally had an answer for the pain I was enduring. The following Thursday, I started my first chemo treatment. It was time to get to work. My mentality shifted—I was preparing for the fight of my life. Despite being down 25 pounds (from a mere 150) and having zero energy, I was mentally tough. I had a lot to fight for.
I knew if I was going to beat cancer, I would have to change my perspective. Every day, multiple times a day, I would tell myself three things:
(1) One day at a time.
(2) Stay positive.
(3) News is just news, not good or bad, just news.
These were all completely opposite of how I usually operate, but I committed to them.
I underwent 18 rounds of chemo over 6 months. I was on an intense chemo regimen that would keep me at the treatment center for 7 hours on Thursday and another 2 hours on Friday. Two weeks on, one week off. My wife sat with me every Thursday and Friday, while my mother-in-law watched our son. During treatment, I would listen to music, watch shows, and look up watch reviews on YouTube. Most of the time, though, I worked. I also started an online baby & toddler clothing store with my wife, which is still going strong!
Fast forward to February 1, 2024—I had my last chemo treatment. At my scan review, I was told there was no active cancer in my body, just six months after my diagnosis. Thank you, God!
It didn’t feel real. The pain in my back was gone. My weight was back up. And I felt great. When people talk to me about the experience, I really don’t know what to say. It’s hard to put it into words. No one knew the pain I was in other than my wife. I never complained outside of when I was home. I didn’t want to burden people by making them worry about me. And I didn’t want people asking how I was doing. I would lie and say I was fine. I’d say my back was hurting from golf.
Anyways, that was all behind me. I prayed.
Then, two weeks ago, about three and a half months after my last treatment, I started experiencing tightness in my back. Panic set in. It was all too familiar. Fortunately, I already had a CT scan scheduled for the following Monday and moved my oncologist appointment up to Wednesday, two days after the scan.
I hoped the back pain would disappear after a day or two. Maybe I tweaked something while rearranging furniture in our house. Maybe I strained a muscle playing with Ollie, now almost 2. Maybe it was just a side effect of the previous back issues paired with six months of toxic chemo drugs. But with my history, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. There was no taking it one day at a time. No staying positive.
I am a worst-case scenario type of person. All I could think was, my cancer is back. I was terrified. If the cancer returned this quickly, would I ever be able to get rid of it entirely? I was just starting to feel like I was getting my life back.
I was spending each morning and night with my wife pain-free. I was getting a full seven days a week to be a dad without having to lay down. My hair was growing back. Would this all really be so short-lived?
The wait for results was brutal.
Finally, Wednesday came, after what felt like the longest week of my life. The cancer is not back.
My CT scan showed no significant changes in my lesions—they remain cystic-looking or benign. My blood tumor marker is still in the normal range.
My back might just really be weak, or maybe there’s something else causing the mild irritation. It took a few hours after the appointment, but I finally felt like I could breathe again.
I started writing this before my scans this week as a way to cope with what I was going through, expecting the worst. I did this often throughout the last year as a way to release the thoughts I would normally hold in, trying to keep stress low. I never planned on sharing any of it.
But during chemo, I always wanted to find a way to give back if I beat the cancer. Thankfully, I had my wife, family, friends, and an endless amount of support. I know not everyone is as fortunate. I hope I will be able to support someone going through a similar experience or someone who knows someone else who is. Or give hope to someone even after a bad diagnosis. Or maybe just provide insights on how I got through treatment, handled recovery days, or discuss things as simple as the diet and fitness routine I followed throughout my treatment.
So here it is, a brief look into my journey, in the hope that I can help someone else on their journey.
Much love and more to come,
Mikey
*UPDATE (6/16/24): Unfortunately, there is more to this story. Read more in my second post, Trusting Your Instincts.
