Young4vr

“Cancer Stinks” was my Working Title

I thought I was too old for pimples, but I kept getting a tiny little red spot on the bridge of my nose. It would stay for a couple of weeks and then go away. I didn’t think much of it. My wife politely suggested that it wasn’t normal to have a sore come and go in the exact same spot, and that I should have it checked out by a doctor. I, like most men, do not like going to the doctor, so I told my wife that I would “rub some dirt” in it, and it would be fine. We did that dance for several months.

Then I got a second spot–this one on my left nostril. It turned purple. My wife really turned on the heat then, but I truly thought it was nothing. I offered that if she thought it was a problem, that I would go to the Doctor if SHE set up the appointment. That same day, my assistant at work said, “you know, that spot on your nose has been there for months. You ought to have it checked out.” I thought she and my wife were conspiring against me, but they weren’t. My assistant had skin cancer on her leg years before, and it started out as a little sore that would not go away. Did I get the message? Nope. It wasn’t until my wife had an allergic reaction to some new makeup that I told her I would go in with her to see the dermatologist. (I was so stubborn that the Lord had to allow my wife to suffer to get me seen by a doctor. I should have a sign on my forehead that reads: “Apply 2X4 Here With Force”).

The Doctor took one look at me, and said he needed to biopsy two spots on my nose right that minute. So, he unceremoniously produced a regular looking razor blade, with which he took a chuck of flesh off the bridge of my nose about 1/2 the size of a dime, and another off my left nostril (thus confirming my distaste for Doctors’ offices). Two days later, I got the news that I did, indeed, have skin cancer. Because it was large enough that I was told I would need reconstructive surgery, I took a few weeks to research the best doctors and facilities.

Before I did that, though, I petitioned the Lord in prayer. Cancer is a scary word—no matter the type. Obviously, some types of cancer can instill even more fear than others. As I said, I petitioned the Lord, and was given the peace to know that everything would work out, and that I was in His hands. So, I went about searching for the correct doctors and arranging to travel to the facility where I would have the procedure. In the meantime, my family was getting anxious and concerned–there were tears. I reassured them that everything was going to be fine (after all, I thought, the Lord told me so). I said that we just needed to have faith. Then, I did more research on my particular type of cancer. I learned that people very rarely died from it. I told that to my wife, thinking it would make her feel better. Little did I know that what she heard from that conversation is “I could die.”

The one thing that I forgot to do for my family was to release them from the fear by telling them of the answer to my prayer. I just figured that if I showed faith, they would too. What a lunk head! I didn’t stop to think that they could see my faith as nothing more than pie-in-the-sky Pollyanna positive thinking, rather than faith in the Lord. I didn’t give them a chance to share in my faith. I didn’t see then how it would help them to deal with the uncertainty.

I had the cancer removed at the Huntsman Cancer Institute at the University of Utah in Salt Lake City (What a WONDERFUL facility). At first, the surgeon thought that the cancer had not spread too far, and that I might not even have to see the plastic surgeon the next day. Then, after taking the first samples to the lab, he brought me the news that it had spread. I walked out of the facility missing almost my entire left nostril and much of the flesh down to the bone on the top of my nose from just above the bulb of the nose to the bridge. I was DEFINITELY going to need to see that plastic surgeon.

The reason I picked the Huntsman facility was for the plastic surgeon. Dr. Steven Mobley is a magician with a scalpel. He specializes in facial reconstruction after cancer surgery. Everything I read told me that I needed this man as my physician in case I had to have reconstructive surgery. When I found out that I would need the consult with Dr. Mobley, I called my wife, who took the next flight to Salt Lake City to be with me for the surgery. On the way to the hospital, my wife marveled out loud how I was not the least bit nervous. Why should I be nervous, I countered? I have faith that everything will be fine. Again, like a lunk head, I didn’t tell her the basis for my faith . . . just that I had it. In turn, I was scratching my head as to why she was so very nervous (other than the fact that I no longer had what could be universally recognized as a human nose and that she might have to look at it for the rest of my life).

Dr. Mobley performed a forehead flap procedure in many steps to rebuild a nose for me. I had 6 surgical procedures all together from November to the next April. He did a marvelous job. Most people don’t even notice the scars on my nose; if they notice anything, it is the scar from where they harvested the skin from my forehead with which they built my nose.

But, back to the reason for this blog; my kids were scared to death when they saw me after that first surgery. I have to admit that it was pretty ghoulish. Small children would run in fear from me when I would travel in the airport between Salt Lake City and my home in Las Vegas. Women and men alike would visibly cringe if they turned to see me suddenly. My wife, after not having worked outside our home for 13 years, suddenly decided she wanted to go back to work. I argued that now was the wrong time for that, as our kids needed that stability of having her in the home as I was recovering. It wasn’t until she actually started working that she finally admitted she was afraid I was going to die and she would be left with stale workplace skills and kids to feed. I never saw that coming, despite the obvious signs along the way. I was just SO comfortable in my little cocoon that I had made for myself, secure in the knowledge that everything would be fine, that I didn’t understand why anyone would be the least bit concerned.

I learned through this experience to share my spiritual experiences more readily with my friends and family. That is something I have not been that good at in my life. I am OK about writing them down for future generations, etc., but unless people asked or unless I was testifying about the Lord, I didn’t just come out and say, “Hey, I had this great spiritual experience this morning during prayer, let me tell you about it . . .” I learned that I need to give my children and my wife the chance to see that I know God is working in my life so that they can share in that same faith. They need to know not only that I have faith, but how and why I have faith.

I am thankful that the Lord showed me that if I relied on His arm, I had no need to fear. I am now cancer free and have a nose once again–both very good things. More importantly, though, I know to share my experiences with the spirit more openly with those around me. How blessed I am to know that God lives and loves us. How blessed I am to know that the promised Messiah not only came, but came to save me. That makes this whole plan of God’s just a bit personal, you know? How thankful I am to know that He cared for me THAT much!