By Sammi Schenkel.
Cancer means something different to me than it did 10 months ago. Everyone hates the word, but what does it really mean? When it affects your personal life in such a close manner, it can change your perspective in a monumental way. On Feb. 13, my family’s life was forever altered as my brother was diagnosed with testicular cancer.
My older brother (and only sibling), Zack Schenkel, 26, went into the ER for stomach pain and in less than 24 hours was diagnosed with testicular cancer with a mass in his stomach the size of a youth football. The next day he was in for surgery to remove the diseased teste. He then went through four rounds of very strong chemotherapy, which shrunk the tumor by a substantial amount. When I first walked onto the cancer floor at Covenant, I was freaked out seeing so many people struggling.
The emotional process for me and my family changed us all. My brother said the only terrifying part of the process was telling us. I woke up to a note from my mother saying she was at the hospital for Zack. When she came back with news of cancer she began to cry and I was in shock.
Now, when walking into the Cancer Center, it’s no longer a scary place for me. My brother never really had the sickness we expected, but he had to change his eating habits, and he lost weight and hair. He seemed to quickly bounce back after treatment was done. He also was able to disc golf with friends in his later rounds of chemo.
After that treatment and several tests, Zack then met with referring specialists at University of Michigan-Ann Arbor to remove the remaining tumor that we hoped was all dead cancer cells. The tumor wrapped around many main vessels near the kidney and abdomen. They had three surgeons conducting the surgery: a chief urologist/oncologist and his partner, and a vascular surgeon alongside many nurses, anesthesiologists, and surgical technicians; the operating room was standing room only.
Ten and a half hours later, the surgery was finished. My mother’s best friend since childhood, my second mom Sherri was there before surgery and until Zack was out of the operating room. I clutched onto her while waiting as my parents went in to talk to the leading surgeon. Both parents came out with smiles on their faces and happy tears, hearing from the doctor that it went “better than expected” and the surgery was a success.
His second major surgery was scheduled on the day before his 26th birthday; the hope was that he would be be cancer free on his birthday. I posted about his surgery asking for thoughts, prayers, good vibes, etc. My brother enjoyed the post and asked for pictures of bonfires for him to wake up to the next day to spread the feeling of being “cancer-free and full of fire.” We received at least 30 pictures of fires including lighters, shots of Fireball and bonfires from relatives, friends and strangers sending support and love. Through this we have remained positive, there is no reason to spread negativity.
During this time, I always had stress on my mental back burner until I heard that he was “cancer-free.” My brother really lead the way in maintaining a positive attitude through this setback. It wasn’t until we officially received the news on Oct. 1 that he was “in the clear,” that the months of stress and worrying was off our minds. When I read my mother’s official post, I remember bursting out in tears, weeping in joy. We had a wide network supporting us, including family, friends from all over the country and the amazing hospital staff at both Covenant and Ann Arbor. He is now working a job with benefits and is to the point of routine screenings to make sure the cancer doesn’t come back. We came into this news with a positive outlook, seeing it as a rough 8 months, but we pushed through it.
Here is a piece of advice if you know of anyone that is dealing with cancer, please don’t pity them or be negative. It does get frustrating and annoying hearing “I’m sorry about so and so’s sickness” all the time, but we do respect the sentiment because sometimes there is nothing more to say. It may depend on the person and family, but they don’t need negativity or sad thoughts; be there for them when, and if, they need or ask for it. In my family’s case: we will be eternally grateful. How that can be done is simply by being there and not disappearing after hearing the news. You can do this by going to the hospital, helping out financially or listening to them or their family as some days are harder than others. From my experience, any day of chemo started for him I was never myself that day. I would worry that he may have awful side-effects from that particular round; I’d be mentally distracted until I heard it went well.
Cancer does not have to be as terrifying as it may seem. With a positive attitude, coming together with a loving network of friends can make the process a better one. I know throughout these past 8 months we all wouldn’t been able to stay sane without these people in our lives—including strangers who reached out.
