Go In with a Kidney Stone, Come Out with Cancer (and No, I Will Not Be a Vegetarian in Heaven)
Twelve years and more than 4,500 days after a Stage 4 kidney cancer diagnosis, one member of our community shares how he keeps going. He's a husband, a father, and the guy standing next to you at the gym or working with you at the office that you’d never guess is fighting for his life. In honor of Men’s Health Month and Father’s Day, he’s breaking his usual privacy to give other patients, and the families who love them, hope.
I came in last in a Spartan race. I want to lead with that, because it's true and because most people assume someone with stage 4 cancer couldn't even step onto the course, let alone train for it. I was happy to finish; last place has never felt so good.
It's been more than 12 years since the morning this started. On New Year's Day 2014 I went to the ER with severe abdominal and back pain. Thinking about the holiday festivities, I was sure it was a kidney stone. Instead, the scan revealed a tumor on my left kidney.
As the saying goes: Go in with a stone, come out with cancer.
I was 49, healthy, the kind of guy who skis, plays tennis, and is willing to try any athletic endeavor. Suddenly I was a deer in the headlights. While I froze, my wife took over. She stayed on top of everything and got me to the right surgeon within a week. I lost 20 pounds in a month from stress. I looked at the steep survival curve and panicked.
Then I decided I was going to be the flat part of the far end of that curve. I was going to fight through the steepest drop so my odds of being here the next year would keep climbing. The longer you live, the longer you're likely to live. That's the math I hold onto.
If I could sit down with a person who just got the call about the bad scan, here's what I'd tell them.
Bring a co-pilot. Bring someone with you to every appointment. As the patient, your brain shorts out and you can’t focus on the data. My wife was my brain when I couldn't use mine.
Find a specialist. A true kidney cancer specialist makes all the difference. Mine kept me off heavy cancer medications for years by watching my disease with expert precision rather than rushing to treat it. That patience bought me treatment-free time.
Become your own researcher: Doctors are smart, but they are busy, and they tend to stay in their specific lanes. You have to think outside the box, advocate ruthlessly, and sometimes fight to get the appointment or treatment you want.
Today I'm exactly 12 years, 5 months and 19 days since my diagnosis. I’ve had 3 open surgeries, 7 other procedures, 5 different drug regimens, and recently a 2-week stay in the hospital. But I'm still here.
I still work out four days a week, because muscle matters and because the gym reminds me who I am. I eat a mostly vegetarian diet and a healthy breakfast every single day. (Though I want it on the record that I will not be a vegetarian in heaven. When I get there, I'm ordering a steak.)
I’ve also learned a few other lessons from 4,500 days on the flat curve:
Protect your inner circle. Some people are very public about their health. I am not. Many patients have told me they lost friends after sharing their diagnosis. Think carefully about who you tell. (I wish that weren't true. It's part of why I'm telling my story anonymously — so the next guy at the gym who’s carrying a heavy burden he doesn't talk about will know he isn't running alone.)
Time is the real currency. Managing this disease takes up more bandwidth than I care to admit. About 95% of each day and now a fifth of my life have been spent coexisting with cancer. I'm kind of used to it, but it takes discipline and sacrifice. It makes the rest of my time precious. I spend my time wisely with my wife, sons, and true friends.
Talk to your body. Don’t be afraid to try new things. I started talking directly to my immune system while at the gym. Years ago, I would have dismissed that as goofy. Today, telling my body “I’m pumping 2x the blood flow right now to get my T cells exactly where they need to go” is part of my scientific formula. It’s how I plan to see my sons graduate and grow old with my wife.
Build your community. Don’t go through a cancer diagnosis with a doctor alone. Connecting with others fighting the exact same battle makes a huge difference. There are no magic bullets in cancer but the collective wisdom, shared experiences, and the will of this community add up. Plus you’ll meet some extraordinary people.
If you've read this far, thank you. Many of you are on advanced drugs that I may need to rely on one day, and the lessons from your fight will help extend my life, the same way I hope mine helps yours. Fight on. Here’s to many more Father’s Days and Men’s Health Months for us all!