X remembered very little of his first surgery to rod his broken femur. He woke up in the hospital bed drugged and fatigued, his left leg grossly swollen. The doctors later explained to him that they had to put in an 18” long titanium rod to treat the broken femur, the standard practice for femur fractures. Periodically, nurses came in to check on X, giving him more and more pain medication. X was in a wakeful haze when the doctor finally came into the room.
The doctor told X’s dad to sit down. He began to explain what they’d done during the procedure on the femur. He explained that they’d taken a biopsy of the femur area during the procedure. In very few words, he said the biopsy specimen came back positive. X had a large cancerous tumor growing on his left femur.
X’s dad turned instantly white.
X quickly said to the doctor, “Well, cut off my leg then. Just cut it off.”
He explained that it was much more complicated than that and that they had done everything in the femur procedure to save the leg. One doctor had wanted to just cut it off because the disease had progressed so much, but another doctor insisted on keeping the leg. For this, X would be eternally grateful. The doctor continued with his news and told X that two doctors would be coming to see him about various cancer treatment procedures. X was speechless. The doctor said he was sorry about the awful news and quietly left the room.
As soon as he’d left, X’s dad turned his back on his son and looked out the window. Then, he quickly turned around with tears in his eyes and grabbed hold of X as his tears fell.
X said, “It’ll be alright dad. It’ll be alright,” just like he’d told his mom the last time he’d spoken to her.
X tried to imagine what his dad was going through. His wife had just died three years ago and now his youngest son had just been diagnosed with cancer.
The following two days, X received two doctors in his room. X and his dad listened to what the first doctor proposed. X didn’t remember a lot of what this doctor said because he hadn’t trusted him from the very beginning of his proposal. There had been too many ‘ifs’ and ‘coulds’ in his speech.
The second doctor, an orthopaedic oncologist, was much more memorable. Dr. Hackbarth entered the room, serious but kind.
He sat down next to X and looked him directly in his eyes and said,
“I know the type of cancer you have and I know how to treat it. I’ve worked with this particular type of cancer before and have had a lot of successful patients.”
The doctor continued, “You have a rare type of childhood cancer that is usually only found in children up to the age of fifteen called Ewing’s sarcoma.”
Dr. Hackbarth explained that there had been a pathological fracture to the femur because it had weakened the bone. “I know how to treat this. You will work with an oncologist at Children’s Hospital of Wisconsin for your treatment program. He has treated many children with this disease with much success. We will begin your treatments when you can be moved to Children’s Hospital. Do you have any questions?” he added.
It had been a lot of information for X to grasp, but he’d believed in Hackbarth from the beginning. When the doctor left the room, X and his father both agreed that Hackbarth was the doctor to use.
Within a few days, X had been stable enough to be transferred to Children’s Hospital. He didn’t know what the hell was going on. One minute he’d been walking in the creek on a beautiful Sunday afternoon in June and the next minute he was being transferred to a children’s hospital for his first chemotherapy treatment with a broken femur. All of it happened in the course of fifteen days. What happened? How did it all happen?
X was brought to Children’s Hospital and was taken to the Haematology, Oncology, and Transplant or HOT floor. As they wheeled him on the flat table through the hallways, he’d seen pictures of clowns and balloons on the walls. Wheeling past the waiting room, he’d seen children’s toys scattered around. He hadn’t understood where they were taking a twenty-six year old man. Further down the hall, X began to see small children and babies connected to clear bottles of liquids. Surprised looks from nurses began to pop up here and there. X had arrived for his first of many treatments.
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