This healthcare specialist learned the humanity and compassion of the industry after beating testicular cancer.
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For more than a year, “Mr. Ballsy” Thomas Cantley featured cancer survivors as part of his campaign of cancer prevention awareness, using #IamBallsy as the hashtag to unite cancer patients and survivors as he spread his positive message. Here is one of those stories.
By Gael Emonnot
My name is Gael Emonnot, and I kicked testicular cancer in the ball.
I am a born and raised Frenchman living in Boise, ID, in the US.
I used to work as an orthopedic technician here in the treasure valley. My job consisted in helping surgeons with their patients, casting, wound cleaning , shots, etc. I always was fascinated with the human body, mostly its abilities to fix itself. Bad traumas were always so “fun” because of that. Seeing it get better.
Starting sometimes in July 2009, I felt very fatigued, I figured out that with all the driving I did, the amount of patients I saw in a day, I deserved a 15 minutes nap during the day.
15 minutes led to 30 to 45 to an hour until a co-worker literally had to wake me up before my afternoon started. This was really my only symptom at the time. I may have joked with a friend a few times that my left nut was hurting but nothing an ibuprofen wouldn’t help. I did a self-exam once without notifying anything. And other people have cancer. Right?!
By August 12th I napped every day, had shortness of breath while walking up stairs, and then a trigger. While driving, I dropped my mobile phone on my left thigh. I was on the freeway and it felt like someone had kicked me in the balls, very , very HARD. Pulled over, and took a few breath. I knew at this point something was not right. I talked to a few colleagues and everybody told me to get checked.
August 13th at 2.30pm I was seen by a PA in a urologic clinic. The PA’s words were somewhat reassuring ” Well you have a big growth on your left testicle. But with the amount of pain you are, I think you have an infection but let’s do an ultrasound in case.”
At 4:00pm I had my ultrasound, Right nut looks good, left nut… “let me have the radiologist talk to you” I knew exactly what it meant, she left, I turned the screen and saw it.
At 4:45pm had a call from the PA ” I showed the picture from your ultrasound to my surgeon, he will contact you as soon as he lands in Boise”
Around 8:00pm my phone rings again the surgeon tells me, ” Don’t eat anything past 11pm tonight, surgery is tomorrow at 10am, CT scan at 7am.” I guess it was that bad. I know enough medicine to know that sometimes you can wait a week or so before a trip in the OR.
Surgery went well, the tumor looked–gross–so to speak. It was sent to Salt Lake because they have a lab that is specialized in tumor reading. Mine was so gross they couldn’t read it there. Was then sent to the TC institute in Indianapolis. I was then in care of an oncologist.
Diagnosis finally came down after my PET scan light up in a pretty yet not jolly way: Stage III B embryonal carcinoma, mixed germ cell tumor.
Six chemo rounds of BEP treatment.
My parents flew over for a couple of weeks after my first round. I was doing great mostly, my hair didn’t fall out much by then; I did have the annoying cisplatin taste constantly in my mouth. CT scan #2 was looking good, lymph nodes slowly shrinking, lung looking better. Hair status .. all gone including eyelashes (nobody ever told me how useful those are ..)
CT scan #3, thrombus the size of half a ping-pong ball in the right atrium. And yep, don’t need to be a genius to know that it’s not a good idea to have one of those. Cardiologist said ” DON’T EVEN MOVE.” I then developed a massive allergy to my “clot buster,” with fevers reaching 106+.
I think it’s the only time I gave up. I was crashing in and out of it, and was just too tired to give a crap anymore. But after a few days I did get stable, and got to go home.
I finished all my rounds without any hiccups. I had to work the entire time of treatment. In Idaho having cancer doesn’t qualify you as disable. So I drove to work, with my puke bucket next to me just in case. I got pulled over a lot as you can imagine.
My job was not going well, I started to get annoyed with a lot of people, chemo brain was slowly going away, and what I was doing didn’t make much sense anymore. I did it, but I missed that extra something about it.
I think that “something” is the humanity of healthcare. The true “goodness” of people. TC took a lot from me, a lot more than just my left nut. But it gave me people. Nurses that I now call my angels, police officers that “served and protected” in a way most people don’t know they do. My leasing office that forgave me a rent and gave me a Christmas. Even some medical reps that took me to chemo and picked me up. Help came from the least expected people most of the time.
When I decided to go in healthcare that’s what I wanted to do. Some difference in someone’s life. Specialist offices in America may like green bills a little too much for what I can care for.
I then found a clinic for refugees. I was hired right way and worked there for about 3 and half years. Now I totally left healthcare behind. I work in an agency that relocate refugees here in Boise. And I don’t think I could be happier at this point.
I guess somewhere that’s what TC gave me. Therapeutically, probably, I want to believe that I lost a ball to help something much bigger than me.
Thank you for reading.
My name is Gael Emonnot and I am ballsy.
#IamBallsy
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Photo: Mr. Ballsy Press
This essay originally appeared on Mr. Ballsy’s Facebook Series.
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