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Cancer Types

Types of Cancer > Gastrointestinal Cancers > Liver Cancer (Hepatoma) > Support

A Normal 28 Year Old's Struggle with Cancer

Peter Polishuk
Last Modified: November 1, 2001

The author has now incorporated his story into a book which should be available shortly.

Title: "Life is Good, except for this Cancer."
Author: Peter Polishuk, 30 year old cancer sufferer and survivor

Available from:
Information Gatekeepers, Inc.
214 Harvard Ave.
Boston, MA 02134
Tel: (617)232-3111
Fax: (617)734-8562
Internet: Igiboston@aol.com

Alternatively, you may call the author at (919)361-2607 or email him at peter.polishuk@nt.com

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I've told this story so many times that I figured it was worth the effort to put it down on paper. This story was written with the intention of putting some personality and humor into an often dark and impersonal event- living and coping with cancer. It's not meant to scare or provoke sympathy, but rather to educate and entertain.

I hope you like it.

April 1995

"There are two ways of meeting difficulties. You alter the difficulties or you alter yourself to meet them."

Phyliss Bottome

I guess the first time I found out that I had cancer was in the procedure room at Beth Israel Hospital where my gastroenterologist, Dr. R was set to perform an endoscopy on me. I had just come down from ultrasound, where another doctor studied my liver with the help of an eager new resident. He called Dr. R, who told me.

"We've received the results of your ultrasound, and you have tumors on your liver", Dr. R stated in a concerned tone. "It's Cancer."

"Well, can you treat it?", I asked as calmly as if I were asking for seconds at the dinner table.

"We're going to treat it", he replied. "But I'd still like to go ahead with this procedure."

The nurse then asked me to open wide, and generously coated my throat with tasty Novocain. Then Dr. R followed by asking me to clamp down on this plastic device as he swiftly and artfully stuck the endoscope down my throat.

Compared with the previous set of procedures, the endoscopy was not as bad as I feared, and was over before I knew it. But Dr. R wanted to send me back up to ultrasound so that they could mark a good area for the liver biopsy he would perform the next day. So I finished the day and returned home with my new trophy: A black "X" on my right hand side ribcage marked in magic marker - the symbol of the beginning of my year-long education in life.

The liver biopsy also looked more threatening than it actually was. The procedure was simple. I would hold my breath while Dr. R quickly and efficiently shot a foot long needle through the magic marker target and into my liver, extracting a tiny sample. It was rather painless, but I still had to lay in the recovery room on my right side for an hour or two to ensure there was no internal bleeding.

The diagnosis of cancer, surprisingly enough, hardly phased me. Maybe, because of the regimen of gastrointestinal tests I had been put through the previous week, I was happy to finally have an answer. I didn't deny it, for I already knew I was pretty sick, and cancer seemed as logical an answer as anything else. What I wanted more than anything else was to begin treatment of any kind so that I could put an end to the 6+ bathrooms trips a day, the mysterious back and side pains, and these horrid tests! Looking back on it all now, it's hard to believe I wasn't more scared or depressed than I was. Hell knows my wife and mother were scared to death, but I seemed oblivious to the fact of what was actually ahead of me.

It was during my first visit to the chemotherapy unit that I finally came to the self-realization that I had cancer. First of all, right off the bat I thought that I stuck out like a sore thumb. Gathered around me was a roomful of mostly older folks, in various stages of poor health, receiving various forms of treatment. Here I was, a healthy 28 year old who had always kept himself in perfect health. Then it hit me. That's how I always thought of myself. But here I was, weighing in at a hefty 130 pounds, skinny as a rail, freshly diagnosed with cancer. I finally saw myself and the predicament I was in, and went home and cried.

A Trail of Clues

It's interesting to follow the trail of clues back to when I first started feeling the vague symptoms which would eventually lead to the cancer diagnosis. It all started with the weird side pains I first experienced while visiting our friends Greg & Karyn in New Jersey in Late October 1993. The pains felt like lingering cramps you usually get while jogging, but these were more persistent, and didn't go away.

After returning to Boston, the side pains would come and go, but I started to develop lower back aches as well. Since I worked out often, I figured it was something I was doing at the gym, so I tried cutting back on my workouts. When the pain persisted, I finally succumbed to seeing the doctor. He also agreed that it probably was due to working out, and suggested that I continue to take Advil if it helped with the pain.

It was now December, and both the side and back pains continued to confound me. The side pains now grew stronger in both duration and frequency, often causing restless and sleepless nights. Even Paul Jr. was short on answers as to possible causes, but as of yet, the pains were just that: Pains and annoyances, and not cause for great alarm.

Then it happened. Christmas Eve, 1993. As if announcing its presence to all family members gathered at home, my stomach erupted in pain that even my daily diet of tabasco could not be held responsible for. It started as a lower stomach ache, but quickly grew to a full-grown growl. It got to the point where I could not even sit still because of the pain, and the family medical committee decided it was best to pay a visit to the local Beth Israel Hospital Emergency room. Not exactly what I had listed on my Christmas list!

With Pat at my side for the ride and support, I was put through the normal emergency room inquiry procedures known to all of us who have ever visited such a place. Have I ever had this type of pain before? Yes, about 6 months earlier, but that was caused by the effect of aspirin on an empty stomach after a night of margaritas. Did I eat anything unusual yesterday? No. Did I eat any seafood? No. Have you vomited anything today? Yes, everything, including the Maalox. Have you tried eating anything? Yes, that came up too. Do you have a history of kidney stones? No. Have you had your appendix taken out? No. Scratching their heads in unison, the eager doctors decided to run some tests and take some x-rays to see if they could find anything. Of course they found nothing, and were further perplexed as this young guy continued to gyrate uncontrollably on the hospital gurney.

A number of hours and bags of saline juice later, my gyrations had subsided to a dull roar. The doctors seemed relieved (as they never found out the problem, and hate to admit they have no idea) that I was improving, and sent me home with the motherly advice to take it easy, and try starting with clear liquids in the morning. Thanks for the advice guys!

Needless to say, the holidays were not very joyous for me as I struggled to aquiant myself with solid food once again. By the time New Year?s rolled around, a new symptom had reared (no pun intended) its ugly head: Diarrhea. After almost a week with no relief, I once again contacted my primary care physician (whom I never really thought cared too much about finding out what was wrong, or thought that anything was ever really wrong to begin with) who suggested I come in for some tests. Of course the tests revealed nothing more than the fact I had diarrhea, and was losing weight because of it. He magically suggested that I give it a couple weeks to run its course, for he would hate to put me through the GI tests if they were not necessary. It sounded logical enough at the time, so I went home and back to the bathroom.

One week later, tens pounds lighter.

Two weeks and twenty pounds later, I was back on the phone with the doctor. As I was to leave in a week on a business trip to Mexico City, I was concerned now not about my health, but whether or not I would be able to make the trip. He magically suggested that it was time to consult a gastroentologist, and I quickly made an appointment to see Dr. R later that week.

Let the games begin!

It immediately became apparent that Dr. R was the exact opposite of Dr. D, my primary care physician. First, he genuinely seemed to care about me, and secondly, he seemed determined to get to the bottom of what was troubling me. I could finally see the last two months of agony coming to an end! We scheduled an appointment for an upper GI for the following week.

For those of you who have never been lucky enough to experience an upper GI, don't worry, I will tell you all about it. (The upper GI is actually the most tolerable of the GI tests.) First of all, the day before the exam, you need to purge your system of all solid foods (no problem here), and refrain from eating any solid food for 24 hours. Then, before the exam, you must drink several pints of a tasty, thick, white barium drink. Then you sit and wait while the barium makes its way into your system before they begin taking x-rays.

Finally, the results came in, and of course, they showed nothing out of the ordinary. By this time, my weight had dropped another five pounds.

Time for the colonoscopy. Same setup as before. Purge the system, no eating, lose some more weight. Only this time the procedure was anything but painless, as the doctor insisted it would be. The colonoscopy involves sending an endoscope in through the backside, up through the intestines, to look for any problems. In my case, the doctor encountered a sharp turn in my tubes, and in an effort to round the corner caused shooting pain that is understandable only by those who have survived this procedure. After numerous Tylenol 3, I was finally able to relax enough to go home. When the results came in, I was not surprised to hear they revealed nothing, except the fact that I had dropped a few more pounds.

Because of that funny sharp curve in my intestines, the doctor was unable to see the entire path necessary to complete the full procedure. So onward to the lower GI.

The lower GI is one of the most uncomfortable procedures one can ever go through. Again it involves the same setup, with extra barium juice. Only this time the barium juice is infused via a tube from the backside. Then a balloon is inserted, and you are asked to roll over and lay in many different positions while the doctor inflates the balloon to highlight certain areas on the x-ray. Then he tilts the exam table up and down, back and forth. All the while a nurse and assistant are at your side to comfort and support you--right! Try staying comfortable with a bowel full of barium and a tube up your XXX!

Again I waited for the results, and again the game continued - nothing abnormal. Dr. R said he had one more test up his sleeve - the endoscopy - where the endoscope is stuck down your throat to take a good look at things. By this time that sounded like a walk in the park, so I prepped myself for yet another appointment at the hospital. Say goodbye to a few more pounds in the process.

This brings us up to the moment of truth. Before the endoscopy, Dr. R also wanted an ultrasound of my liver. No prep involved in this procedure, so weight loss was held to a minimum. Little did I know that the next day would change my life forever.

The Diagnosis

Dr. R called later that afternoon after the liver biopsy to tell us the results of the tests. Initially, the cancer was thought to be adenocarcinoma, the worst form of carcinoid cancer. But with another doctor in the family, a second test was requested by Paul, who doubted the results of the first test. Lucky for us all, the second test showed the cancer to be ordinary carcinoid, not the adenocarcinoid previously suspected. While the adenocarcinoid cancer is not only rare, but often untreatable, the carcinoid is somewhat treatable. It was finally out on the table what we were dealing with, and the next step was to seek treatment as soon as possible.

Dr. R recommended Dr. L of the Oncology department at Beth Israel. An appointment was made, and we all prepared ourselves for the fateful meeting. Surprisingly, the full impact of what we were dealing with had still not registered with me. In my mind I was still treating the illness as a short term problem that would be over with soon.