I was diagnosed with colon cancer on Feb. 25 2010. The way I came about finding out was through a series of painful stomach ailments and gradually increasing fatigue. The signs were there, I just was unable to interpret them early on. I started work at Walgreens Pharmacy in the summer of 2009 and as time progressed I noticed my stomach giving me several problems during work. It came to a point where I would carry Mylanta and large jugs of Gatorade with me to every shift due to the pain. This started occurring around late December, early January. I also noticed that when I would come home I would be very tired. A drastic change from when I had started working to later fall months. My mother finally started questioning me when I would be too tired to even eat dinner at night and would rather sleep.
Another change she noticed that I was oblivious to was my weight loss. I had joined a local gym in September to gain some muscle mass but grew too tired to continue going. When my mother finally convinced me to get on a scale around late January we noticed I had dropped possibly 30 or so pounds from my peak weight. This alarmed me but not enough to see a doctor; stupid male pride I assume. I did decide to setup an appointment with a gastroenterologist to find out what my problem could be but the earliest scheduled appointment was three months away. Finally on one particular shift I was hit with the mother of all pains and so much fatigue that I was unable to finish my shift. I asked my boss, a pharmacist, what could be the cause and her reply was to go see a doctor as well as a few possibilities of what may be ailing me.
I went to a nurse practitioner the next day before my shift since it was a free courtesy to Walgreens employees; however, her advice left me feeling very uncomfortable. I immediately went to an urgent care center to seek additional counsel. The nurse had a very hard time drawing any blood from the veins on either arm, so I was instantly on edge. When the doctor finally came to see me he greeted me by saying "you are extremely anemic". He hadn’t even seen the results of my blood work yet but knew from just looking at me. When he did get a chance to see my blood work he surprised me by stating I had to be admitted to the hospital asap for a blood transfusion and set up an appointment with a colleague of his who was a gastroenterologist. He did not trust me waiting another month and a half to find out why my stomach was giving me so much pain. I went to the specialist first.
He believed I had a condition called ulcerative colitis instead of FAP which my father had. FAP is a genetic disease that causes multiple polyps to develop on the colon. When I was admitted to the hospital I received 2 pints of blood and also endured a colonoscopy to find out what was the root cause. To all of our surprise, I had one cancer site and so many polyps lining my colon that it was impossible to count. Each polyp had the potential to turn cancerous. Now at this time I had been, what I believe to be, a Christian with faith through the roof. My pastor had recently given a sermon of"Being Content in All Situations". In my mind this was my chance to prove how strong and faithful I was to God. I met the news with a smile, I did not want the doctor or my parents to think that I had already been defeated by a prognosis even though I had no clue what was in store for me. When I met the surgeons I smiled while they talked of possible grim results; when I met the oncologist I smiled while she talked of the chemo regiment she wanted to put me on right away. In my mind there was absolutely no way I would get down about this process because I had expected it to be quick and dry. I did not think for a second that I would experience pains in my body that would have no explanation. Or that this entire process could drag out for as long as it has.
We started treatment and everything looked good. I responded to the chemotherapy and radiation the way the oncologist wanted and four months after my prognosis I was due for my very first surgery. One key note to add is, the oncologist and surgeon had agreed that I should be off of any treatment for seven weeks before my surgery. Their explanation was that the treatments still were at work on my body and they did not want to stress me for the surgery. However, a week before the surgery we learned that my cancer had metastasized to my liver. My family and I believe
that waiting so long in between caused the cancer to have an opportunity to spread. Had we known this could have been a possibility, we definitely would have been more vocal about the length of time between treatment and surgery. The good news is the surgery was a complete success. I was in the hospital for eight days where I met with a physical therapist to nearly learn how to walk all over again.
Thankful to be home, I was also a little discouraged to learn I had to do the entire process over again to heal my liver. We started treatment with the same chemotherapy drugs since it had gone so well for my colon. The way my treatment was structured was that every two weeks I would receive a dose of three to four chemo drugs and after two cycles I would take either a PET/CT or MRI scan to monitor the progression or deterioration of the cancer. We quickly learned that no two organs are alike, because the tumors on my liver were growing at a drastic rate. Still having confidence in my healing, my oncologist switched the chemo drugs and we restarted. The news was the same after another scan, rapid growth with no response. At this time, my surgeon referred me to a liver specialist seeing as he only dealt with colon cancer. This doctor was not so easy to smile at. As a method of introducing himself he described the types of cancers I could be fighting for the rest of my life because I had FAP. This did not put me to ease. He was helpful by naming a new drug, avastin, that we had not tried before and my oncologist put me on a regiment that included that particular drug. He also
mentioned that he had contacts at a cancer center called M.D. Anderson in Houston, TX which could benefit me if I lost confidence in my oncologist or
wanted a second option. We kept that in mind but decided to stick with what we knew, our current oncologist. After being given bad news about my liver several times we were confident about this new drug being the miracle breakthrough. What we were not prepared for was the truth, that it had not worked in the capacity we had expected. This is when I began to have my faith in God really tested.
Up to this point I had been strong to the degree I was reassuring family members on my healing. With the repeated bad reports, I began to waver and thus my faith wavered as well. However, I would pick up my Bible and read scripture on healing or listen to tapes on healing to help me stay strong in God’s word. At this point my oncologist had lost faith that she could heal me and looked for other options. Remembering what the liver specialist had said, we took his offer on the chance to go to M.D. Anderson. By this time my tumors had grown to a size where it caused me a lot of pain. On the road trip from Atlanta, GA to Houston, TX I was in a severe amount of pain to the point where I took Percocet frequently. I remember trying to eat but having to stop because my abdomen would rumble with pain if I ate.
In a unique way, the Lord had made provisions for us to stay with a family we had never met before. My mother on a whim went to a repast with my grandmother and met a man who had a friend in Houston, TX. He heard of our dilemma and made contacts for us to stay with his friend. This was a major relief on us. When we finally made it to Houston, we met with our new oncologist and her staff. Initially, my insurance tried blocking any treatment plan the doctor had due to the method of treatment. Unlike in previous treatments, where the chemotherapy was delivered through a port attached to a main vein in my chest, this method of treatment was to direct a catheter into my femoral artery up into my liver and the tumor itself. Because of the vein involved, I would have to be strapped to a bed for 32 total hours. Two hours were spent receiving the oxaliplatin, the "miracle" drug and then twenty four hours were spent receiving the other chemotherapy drugs with the final six hours just spent mak-ing sure nothing harmful happened. My faith was
being tested again at this point in my life; however, we prayed as a family that God would provide a way. Not but so many hours later we learned that the director of my insurance company had overseen what was going on and authorized my treatment himself. I began treatment of the exact same regiment with the "miracle" drug. We noticed that my pain had alleviated somewhat and I was feeling better after just one treatment. After being in Houston for a total of three weeks we traveled back home to Atlanta.
One of the drugs was particularly harsh on my body. The drug is called oxiliplatin and the side effects caused more pain than I had been used to and I had a hard time dealing with it. I looked to God through prayer for an easier way but I realized I still had one more treatment before a scan. We had to travel to Houston every twenty-one days and it felt like a blink of an eye between trips. The time had come for me to take the scan to reveal the results of the treatment. Aside from the side effect of pain, we felt confident the treatment had worked because my abdomen had shrunk in size as well as me feeling better overall. The results were the same as usual. The only difference being there was a small growth on two cancer sites and a small nodule. Although we praised the fact that my cancer had still not spread, my faith took another hit. I had prayed and prayed to God for a healing and it had just not come. With every bad report I tried to dig in harder to God. At first I stopped listening to rap music and only played gospel and occasionally oldies. Then I changed the way I prayed to a style that praised and worshipped God more than just simply asking for this or that. I even changed the way in which I spoke, attempting to be more Christ like. The last thing I changed was I began to read the bible, chapter by chapter. I had believed that doing all of this would prove my faith to God even though it had wavered at times. I felt discouraged and let down with the news. My mood had changed and everyone noticed. Fear began to grow inside me. Would the news ever change? How long would I be stuck in this low season? If I felt better then why
weren’t the drugs working? Again I picked up my bible to help me stay strong in God’s Word.
My grandmother had gone through a similar struggle and reminded me that "as long as they have an option there is hope". The protocol had to change and the oncologist also gave me encouragement. Unknown to me, she had over one hundred and twenty protocols and reassured me
that statistically, something had to work. The insurance once again tried to block the treatment due to the method of treatment as well as one of the drugs being particularly expensive. This time they took a lot longer to approve. We waited and waited and finally took it upon ourselves to step out on faith and be admitted to the hospital for the treatment. We weren’t sure if we would have to pay this time around or if my insurance would come to the rescue. But we moved ahead on our faith that it would be approved. Around the time the treatment had begun, we learned that the insurance would cover everything as it previously had and praised God.
The new regiment of drugs was a lot easier on my body. My mother believed that the previous treatment was too harsh and this may have been a sort of good thing sent by God for something easier for me to handle. Although I would have to take the chemotherapy more frequently than before, it caused no major side effects. I also didn’t have to be strapped to a bed for over a day. Instead, eight total hours was needed. For the first time in a long time, I was able to experience a day without taking a large amount of pain pills.
Throughout my ordeal, my family and I would encounter people and friends who felt in their heart that I would not die. Each individual would repeat the same thing, that they felt a peace about my situation. Because there was not a single person who had said the opposite, I firmly believed I would not die no matter how dire my situation could turn out. But the continual bad news left a bad taste. I had to receive something positive. That later came when my sister took a blood test to determine if she too had FAP. To our relief, we learned that she did not carry the gene. This lifted my spirits greatly and I began to do the things I had done before. I was told by a family member who is also a bishop that I should speak to my problems like Christ did. He was able to speak to the wind and calm it, and thus being a Christian I should do the same with my body by telling it, it is healed. I now speak to my food, body and medicine because not only am I healed, the manifestation of my healing is constantly being sent down.
Throughout the entire time my liver was growing, we knew God had to have been at work. There is simply no way my pain could go from severe to minimal at best without Him being at work. The doctors believed all along that the drugs weren’t working because of what they saw on a scan. I believe God kept the tumors at bay and is even working on them. I feel this way because things not seen are at play. My abdomen is still a size I would call large but I can go through my day pain free. I may experience a hefty amount of fatigue and shortness of breath due to the treatment but I still have no overall problems. That can only be God.
Another change she noticed that I was oblivious to was my weight loss. I had joined a local gym in September to gain some muscle mass but grew too tired to continue going. When my mother finally convinced me to get on a scale around late January we noticed I had dropped possibly 30 or so pounds from my peak weight. This alarmed me but not enough to see a doctor; stupid male pride I assume. I did decide to setup an appointment with a gastroenterologist to find out what my problem could be but the earliest scheduled appointment was three months away. Finally on one particular shift I was hit with the mother of all pains and so much fatigue that I was unable to finish my shift. I asked my boss, a pharmacist, what could be the cause and her reply was to go see a doctor as well as a few possibilities of what may be ailing me.
I went to a nurse practitioner the next day before my shift since it was a free courtesy to Walgreens employees; however, her advice left me feeling very uncomfortable. I immediately went to an urgent care center to seek additional counsel. The nurse had a very hard time drawing any blood from the veins on either arm, so I was instantly on edge. When the doctor finally came to see me he greeted me by saying "you are extremely anemic". He hadn’t even seen the results of my blood work yet but knew from just looking at me. When he did get a chance to see my blood work he surprised me by stating I had to be admitted to the hospital asap for a blood transfusion and set up an appointment with a colleague of his who was a gastroenterologist. He did not trust me waiting another month and a half to find out why my stomach was giving me so much pain. I went to the specialist first.
He believed I had a condition called ulcerative colitis instead of FAP which my father had. FAP is a genetic disease that causes multiple polyps to develop on the colon. When I was admitted to the hospital I received 2 pints of blood and also endured a colonoscopy to find out what was the root cause. To all of our surprise, I had one cancer site and so many polyps lining my colon that it was impossible to count. Each polyp had the potential to turn cancerous. Now at this time I had been, what I believe to be, a Christian with faith through the roof. My pastor had recently given a sermon of"Being Content in All Situations". In my mind this was my chance to prove how strong and faithful I was to God. I met the news with a smile, I did not want the doctor or my parents to think that I had already been defeated by a prognosis even though I had no clue what was in store for me. When I met the surgeons I smiled while they talked of possible grim results; when I met the oncologist I smiled while she talked of the chemo regiment she wanted to put me on right away. In my mind there was absolutely no way I would get down about this process because I had expected it to be quick and dry. I did not think for a second that I would experience pains in my body that would have no explanation. Or that this entire process could drag out for as long as it has.
We started treatment and everything looked good. I responded to the chemotherapy and radiation the way the oncologist wanted and four months after my prognosis I was due for my very first surgery. One key note to add is, the oncologist and surgeon had agreed that I should be off of any treatment for seven weeks before my surgery. Their explanation was that the treatments still were at work on my body and they did not want to stress me for the surgery. However, a week before the surgery we learned that my cancer had metastasized to my liver. My family and I believe
that waiting so long in between caused the cancer to have an opportunity to spread. Had we known this could have been a possibility, we definitely would have been more vocal about the length of time between treatment and surgery. The good news is the surgery was a complete success. I was in the hospital for eight days where I met with a physical therapist to nearly learn how to walk all over again.
Thankful to be home, I was also a little discouraged to learn I had to do the entire process over again to heal my liver. We started treatment with the same chemotherapy drugs since it had gone so well for my colon. The way my treatment was structured was that every two weeks I would receive a dose of three to four chemo drugs and after two cycles I would take either a PET/CT or MRI scan to monitor the progression or deterioration of the cancer. We quickly learned that no two organs are alike, because the tumors on my liver were growing at a drastic rate. Still having confidence in my healing, my oncologist switched the chemo drugs and we restarted. The news was the same after another scan, rapid growth with no response. At this time, my surgeon referred me to a liver specialist seeing as he only dealt with colon cancer. This doctor was not so easy to smile at. As a method of introducing himself he described the types of cancers I could be fighting for the rest of my life because I had FAP. This did not put me to ease. He was helpful by naming a new drug, avastin, that we had not tried before and my oncologist put me on a regiment that included that particular drug. He also
mentioned that he had contacts at a cancer center called M.D. Anderson in Houston, TX which could benefit me if I lost confidence in my oncologist or
wanted a second option. We kept that in mind but decided to stick with what we knew, our current oncologist. After being given bad news about my liver several times we were confident about this new drug being the miracle breakthrough. What we were not prepared for was the truth, that it had not worked in the capacity we had expected. This is when I began to have my faith in God really tested.
Up to this point I had been strong to the degree I was reassuring family members on my healing. With the repeated bad reports, I began to waver and thus my faith wavered as well. However, I would pick up my Bible and read scripture on healing or listen to tapes on healing to help me stay strong in God’s word. At this point my oncologist had lost faith that she could heal me and looked for other options. Remembering what the liver specialist had said, we took his offer on the chance to go to M.D. Anderson. By this time my tumors had grown to a size where it caused me a lot of pain. On the road trip from Atlanta, GA to Houston, TX I was in a severe amount of pain to the point where I took Percocet frequently. I remember trying to eat but having to stop because my abdomen would rumble with pain if I ate.
In a unique way, the Lord had made provisions for us to stay with a family we had never met before. My mother on a whim went to a repast with my grandmother and met a man who had a friend in Houston, TX. He heard of our dilemma and made contacts for us to stay with his friend. This was a major relief on us. When we finally made it to Houston, we met with our new oncologist and her staff. Initially, my insurance tried blocking any treatment plan the doctor had due to the method of treatment. Unlike in previous treatments, where the chemotherapy was delivered through a port attached to a main vein in my chest, this method of treatment was to direct a catheter into my femoral artery up into my liver and the tumor itself. Because of the vein involved, I would have to be strapped to a bed for 32 total hours. Two hours were spent receiving the oxaliplatin, the "miracle" drug and then twenty four hours were spent receiving the other chemotherapy drugs with the final six hours just spent mak-ing sure nothing harmful happened. My faith was
being tested again at this point in my life; however, we prayed as a family that God would provide a way. Not but so many hours later we learned that the director of my insurance company had overseen what was going on and authorized my treatment himself. I began treatment of the exact same regiment with the "miracle" drug. We noticed that my pain had alleviated somewhat and I was feeling better after just one treatment. After being in Houston for a total of three weeks we traveled back home to Atlanta.
One of the drugs was particularly harsh on my body. The drug is called oxiliplatin and the side effects caused more pain than I had been used to and I had a hard time dealing with it. I looked to God through prayer for an easier way but I realized I still had one more treatment before a scan. We had to travel to Houston every twenty-one days and it felt like a blink of an eye between trips. The time had come for me to take the scan to reveal the results of the treatment. Aside from the side effect of pain, we felt confident the treatment had worked because my abdomen had shrunk in size as well as me feeling better overall. The results were the same as usual. The only difference being there was a small growth on two cancer sites and a small nodule. Although we praised the fact that my cancer had still not spread, my faith took another hit. I had prayed and prayed to God for a healing and it had just not come. With every bad report I tried to dig in harder to God. At first I stopped listening to rap music and only played gospel and occasionally oldies. Then I changed the way I prayed to a style that praised and worshipped God more than just simply asking for this or that. I even changed the way in which I spoke, attempting to be more Christ like. The last thing I changed was I began to read the bible, chapter by chapter. I had believed that doing all of this would prove my faith to God even though it had wavered at times. I felt discouraged and let down with the news. My mood had changed and everyone noticed. Fear began to grow inside me. Would the news ever change? How long would I be stuck in this low season? If I felt better then why
weren’t the drugs working? Again I picked up my bible to help me stay strong in God’s Word.
My grandmother had gone through a similar struggle and reminded me that "as long as they have an option there is hope". The protocol had to change and the oncologist also gave me encouragement. Unknown to me, she had over one hundred and twenty protocols and reassured me
that statistically, something had to work. The insurance once again tried to block the treatment due to the method of treatment as well as one of the drugs being particularly expensive. This time they took a lot longer to approve. We waited and waited and finally took it upon ourselves to step out on faith and be admitted to the hospital for the treatment. We weren’t sure if we would have to pay this time around or if my insurance would come to the rescue. But we moved ahead on our faith that it would be approved. Around the time the treatment had begun, we learned that the insurance would cover everything as it previously had and praised God.
The new regiment of drugs was a lot easier on my body. My mother believed that the previous treatment was too harsh and this may have been a sort of good thing sent by God for something easier for me to handle. Although I would have to take the chemotherapy more frequently than before, it caused no major side effects. I also didn’t have to be strapped to a bed for over a day. Instead, eight total hours was needed. For the first time in a long time, I was able to experience a day without taking a large amount of pain pills.
Throughout my ordeal, my family and I would encounter people and friends who felt in their heart that I would not die. Each individual would repeat the same thing, that they felt a peace about my situation. Because there was not a single person who had said the opposite, I firmly believed I would not die no matter how dire my situation could turn out. But the continual bad news left a bad taste. I had to receive something positive. That later came when my sister took a blood test to determine if she too had FAP. To our relief, we learned that she did not carry the gene. This lifted my spirits greatly and I began to do the things I had done before. I was told by a family member who is also a bishop that I should speak to my problems like Christ did. He was able to speak to the wind and calm it, and thus being a Christian I should do the same with my body by telling it, it is healed. I now speak to my food, body and medicine because not only am I healed, the manifestation of my healing is constantly being sent down.
Throughout the entire time my liver was growing, we knew God had to have been at work. There is simply no way my pain could go from severe to minimal at best without Him being at work. The doctors believed all along that the drugs weren’t working because of what they saw on a scan. I believe God kept the tumors at bay and is even working on them. I feel this way because things not seen are at play. My abdomen is still a size I would call large but I can go through my day pain free. I may experience a hefty amount of fatigue and shortness of breath due to the treatment but I still have no overall problems. That can only be God.
© 2013 Ryan Lee Holland Foundation - All Rights Reserved Last edited 3/6/2013