I Have Some Really Fucking Awful News
A couple weeks ago, my and my family’s life was served a giant heaping shit sandwich when a number of sizable cancerous lumps were found in my abdomen. They’re carcinomas of a yet-to-be identified source that has already spread to my kidneys, adrenal gland, omentum and lower lungs. If you know cancer, then you already know I’m in a really bad way. Barring any new immunological breakthroughs I’ve got a huge battle ahead of me that is going to require every known treatment, much of it used in a test-and-discover approach. Fortunately I’m going to use all my strength, fortitude and optimism to drive this foreign occupier from me like the Allied march from Normandy to Berlin.
Just three weekends ago I was skiing with my daughter in Tahoe. I spent the next week leading an important work launch at Medium.com, all set to leave on a family vacation the following week. I had some growing symptoms (unexplained weight loss, fierce abdominal muscle cramps when I slept, and night sweats) that sent me to the doctor about 6 weeks ago, but blood tests didn’t turn up anything unusual.
The day before our vacation that we were so looking forward to, I took myself to the E.R. because nothing was getting better. This was just 16 days ago. The E.R. staff expected I’d have diverticulitis. But one look at my CT scan and the E.R. doctor told me the Hawaii trip was off and I would be admitted to the hospital right away. It’s been a giant shit sandwich ever since. At first, doctors hoped I had a highly treatable cancer called lymphoma, so it was a roundhouse kick to the face when tests came back as carcinoma — meaning this had already metastasized some time ago.
My wife, Molly Ditmore, and I are thoroughly devastated, as of course our families are too. I’ve got a shinning ace, my amazing sister, Dr. Susan Rheingold, a very well-respected pediatrics hematology-oncologist at Children’s Hosp. of Philadelphia (CHOP). She’s been deeply involved with medical studies that use immunotherapy in young leukemia patients to train their T-cells to attack and kill in entirety their body’s malignant cells. Susan flew out to me immediately, without me even asking, and was here for the hard meetings. She also conference calls in for other important discussions. She speaks with the doctors in unpackable clinical terminology and then makes sure everything is explained to Molly and I thoroughly and directly. She’s lined up many top-level introductions at USCF and Stanford and is watching for studies and trials across the world. I gave Susan a lot of shit for being so smart growing up. I’m glad she never listened to me.
Even after getting the carcinoma diagnosis, Susan behooved me to live a normal life for as long as I could. So without anyone knowing my status I went to work last week, and pretended I had been on vacation, which was surprisingly easy. Turns out no one working really cares how your vacation was, or stops to even wonder why you’re not tan. She was right, it was an escapist relief to be ensconced in and resolving pressing work topics even though it took a couple Vicodin to get through the day.
[Hi everyone at Medium. I’m really glad I was able to lead through the Promoted Stories product launch earlier this month. Professionally I was deeply satisfied working together and considered if I could scrap my greater long-term entrepreneurial plans and look for a permanent role at Medium. But that too is all moot now. I knew my days were short, so last week I feel like I wrapped up a lot of Q2 preparation that can be taken over from me, hopefully seamlessly. It’s not a coincidence I got two forward-planning Hatch posts out last Thursday ;) But here’s where I’ll be dropping off. Best to all of you.]
There’s one person I haven’t mentioned nearly enough and that is Molly. She has been a ROCK, like I could never have imagined. Yesterday was our 12th wedding anniversary and there’s no one better I could have chosen. It reconfirms something I learned during my Dogster days: You commit to people not so they can improve status when things are idyllic, but when things are at their worst. We’re both devastated and frankly horrified when we think too much about the future.
I’ve decided to keep a journal, (Sorry Medium, I just can’t call this a publication ;) to share where I am. I heard some Donovan playing the other day and decided to call this “Season of the Witch” instead of the more vulgar names I had been considering. I’m making a choice to be honest about my situation and I’ll keep it pretty honest in this journal. Though you don’t have to worry about me wallowing in known truisms like how brutal chemo is, or how asinine insurance companies … ain’t nobody got time for that. I’m not looking to become a thinkfluencer or a hashtag out of this. I just need a place to keep the people who know me up to date. Also I will try and make you laugh and teach you things while I have your attention. I’m still @tedr on twitter, and hopefully will just be talking about normal things there. If you’re ever wondering what you could do for me, please just share a funny gif or picture of beauty with me.
[Too read my updates, click that green “follow” button next to Season of the Witch. Or grab the journal URL https://medium.com/season-of-the-witch and put it in your browse toolbar or RSS reader or those other pre-phone thing we used to do.]
