The Day I Was Told 'It Had Metastasized'

My previous article ended with the story of the day I was discharged from the hospital.
If it metastasized to the lymph nodes, it would be Stage 4 at that point.
I was happy to be able to leave the hospital, but suddenly I felt anxious—that was what I wrote.

Today is the continuation of that.
It is the story I concluded with by saying, 'I will write about it in another article.'

I thought things were going well

I returned to work one week after being discharged. I gradually eased back into it, working entirely from home for the first week, and then going into the office two days a week starting the following week.

My physical strength had clearly declined, partly as a reaction to having been in bed for so long. Even so, after a month, I had recovered enough to go on long-distance business trips.

I was concerned about the lymph node issue. However, since I am the type of person who naturally loves to work, I found myself working normally before I knew it. I thought everything was going smoothly, but looking back now, perhaps that wasn't a good thing.

Signs

The first thing I noticed was that my lymph nodes would hurt when I got tired. When I mentioned this at my regular check-up, the swelling was confirmed through palpation, and it grew little by little with each subsequent check-up.

There were no findings on the ultrasound or CT scans, but even so, the doctor said, 'In my experience, there is a high probability that it has metastasized.'

And then, he told me this.

'Admittedly, there is a possibility that it has not yet fully turned into cancer. However, if it is highly likely to become so eventually, I don't think you will regret having it removed.'

It was a way of speaking that didn't pressure me.

I trusted my doctor, so I had no reason to refuse. More than anything, I didn't have the confidence to live my daily life with peace of mind if I refused.

I was a little worried about the act of removing the lymph node itself. I knew the role of lymph nodes, but I didn't know much about what kind of impact it would have if they were gone. When I told him that honestly, the doctor explained it to me carefully. After listening, I also thought that the risk of not removing it was higher, so I told him right then and there, 'Please go ahead.'

I reported it to my boss immediately as well. The response I got was, 'Forget about work for now and focus entirely on your treatment.' Looking back now, I was blessed with a good boss.

The second surgery

The process was almost the same as the first time. However, because the area to be excised was larger, this time the hospitalization, including rehabilitation, was one month. I had been told that in advance, and it actually took exactly one month.

My physical recovery also took longer than the first time.

'It had metastasized'

About two weeks after the surgery, I was told the results of the examination.

Metastasis to the lymph nodes. At that point, I became Stage 4.

To be honest, I had been hoping to hear, "There was no metastasis. That's good news," so it was somewhat of a shock that it wasn't the case.

However, there was a saving grace. The cancer cells remained inside the lymph nodes, and no infiltration spreading beyond them was observed.

Above all, the doctor's assessment was correct. If I hadn't had the surgery and left it as it was, there is a high possibility that it would have infiltrated and spread further. Thinking about that, I am truly grateful to the doctor.

What hit me hard wasn't the number.

Stage 4. Looking only at the number, that should have been the biggest shock.

But what actually hit me hard was the notification that followed. According to the biopsy results, my cancer cells were of the lowest quality in medical classification. To borrow the doctor's words, the malignancy was extremely high, and the risk of recurrence and metastasis was quite high.

The risk of metastasis remains in the future. That means I have to spend my time living with anxiety for the foreseeable future.

The stage number was a fact and a result of how far the cancer had spread by that day. But the talk about malignancy is about the future. What weighed heavily on me was that part, which has no end in sight.

One year since then

A little over a year has passed since that day.

I still go to the hospital every two weeks. Echo, MRI, CT, PET. It feels like I am regularly cycling through tests. The doctor told me to assume that the risk is high enough to warrant that frequency even after a year. However, to put it the other way around, it also means that if something happens, they can find it immediately and take action while the progression is low.

It is a feeling mixed with anxiety and relief, but now the hospital visits themselves are like a tranquilizer for my mind.

Changing the subject a little, until very recently, I thought of myself as "still a Stage 4 cancer patient." However, as I read articles by various people, I became curious about what my current state really is, so I looked it up again. The result seems to be "a cancer survivor who is carefully being monitored after Stage 4 cancer treatment due to a high possibility of recurrence and metastasis"—this seems to be closest to the truth.

I personally want to do many, many more things, and I believe I can. Worrying won't cure the illness, so I want to do my best to do what I can for myself now so that I have as few regrets as possible if something happens. Starting this note was also triggered by that feeling.

Fortunately, it has only been a short time since generative AI appeared in the world. There is an excitement similar to when the internet appeared in the world when I was a student. I think to myself that I am a techie at heart, but that is what is fun right now.

I have anxiety. But I want to hold onto hope.
Holding these two conflicting thoughts, I will continue to move forward with all my might.

Thank you for reading this far.

The "Like" button on note is also a signal to me that "I read this." It encourages me if you give me a Like to mean "I read it" or "I am rooting for you."