I was diagnosed with malignant melanoma under my thumbnail on July 21, 2021.  For those of you who have been following my cancer journey, you know that I am a surgeon who became at patient and then documented my journey in this blog.  After undergoing surgery, I completed a yearlong treatment plan of chemoimmunotherapy infusions, having completed my last infusion on June 29, 2022. This blog recounts my story with a focus on a surgeon who became a patient, melanoma awareness, and the intersection of medicine and faith.

When I see a new patient in the office, I typically review their list of current medications, any drug allergies listed, past medical history (conditions such as hypertension or diabetes), past surgical history (previous operations), past family history, and social history (marital status, occupation, habits such tobacco or alcohol). Knowing about the whole person enables me to treat their head and neck condition better, because everything is connected. For instance, if a patient presents with epistaxis (nose bleeding), it is obvious that I need to know if they are on any blood thinners and the condition for which they take them. In the past, before I became a cancer patient, when reviewing the past medical history, I would often note that a patient had a history of cancer. I would make a mental note, but not really let that diagnosis sink in or identify with the emotional and physical stress through which that patient had endured. I would just assume they were a cancer survivor and doing well. It simply did not resonate with me. Even with my own head and neck cancer patients that I followed for years, I never really grasped the mental, physical, emotional, and spiritual stress they would endure as I performed my own “cancer surveillance”, which involved regular checkups with physical exam, lab work, and imaging studies for years. One term I learned was “scanxiety,” which is a real emotion.

So, I just completed a comprehensive battery of tests, all in one day. Here is how it goes in the day of the life of patient being monitored for recurrent cancer. No matter how well I feel or how confident I am that my surveillance will turn out favorably, there is a strong wave of anxiety that hits me about 1-2 weeks before the testing. My mind tends to turn toward the statistics, my own mortality, the “what ifs,” and thoughts of receiving terrible news. I think about my family, my career, and the prospect of having to undergo more treatment. My mind will turn to terrifying thoughts of not being around longer with my wife Kellee, or to see my kids thrive in their careers, or see my grandchildren grow up. This time, I felt different. Leading up to my big day, I had so many patients stop and ask how I was doing or tell me that they were praying for me. On a particular Thursday at our office location in Lebanon, Tennessee, just one week before all my tests, an unusual amount of patients expressed their love and concern all day long. My final patient of that day, a pastor who was being scheduled for an extensive sinus operation, said that he wanted first to hear about my progress and my own health. Next, after reviewing his sinus CT scan and discussing risks and benefits of his upcoming surgery, he prayed over me at the end of his visit. My nurse Jasmine and I talked after clinic how reassuring that day had been, and how we had felt the hand of God. For those of you who have been following my journey, you have read about my faith and how, out of nowhere, old hymns just fill my head, comforting me when I need it most. Just 2 days prior to my testing, the hymns returned, and filled my head for two solid days and nights, giving me some of the best sleep I had experienced in days. I honestly felt that I had some providential signs that all would be OK.

On the big day, I reported early to the hospital, to the cancer lab where I received an IV. From the plethora of IV infusions and IV imaging studies, my veins are scarred, making IV access difficult. I always dread the IV placement. Next, a battery of lab tests are drawn, assessing my blood counts, my electrolytes, my kidney function, my thyroid function, and my liver function, among others as abnormal bloodwork can sometimes be a marker for recurrent disease. My next stop was the MRI scanner where my brain would be scanned. I am claustrophobic, and I typically prefer an “open air” scanner. When I arrived at the MRI suite, much to my surprise, I was scheduled for a brain scan in a closed scanner. With this type of scanner, one is slid up into the scanner, with your head being nearly completely enclosed, with what feels like just a couple inches of space around your entire head, worse than being in a coffin. I was terrified, so I just began to pray, holding a small wooden cross that has accompanied me to all my treatments and tests. I drifted off into sleep very quickly as I prayed, a very deep sleep, again experiencing what I felt was the peace of Christ. I woke up just as the scan was finished, as if the whole process was just the blink of an eye. During this scan, intravenous contrast was injected into my veins, and one feels a warm rush as the contrast dye feels your body, highlighting the blood vessels on the images.

Next, still with the IV, it was off to the CT scanner, where I received yet another round of intravenous contrast, and I underwent imaging of my right arm, the side of my melanoma, looking for any evidence of recurrent disease in my hand all the way up to the area in my axilla where typically a cancer may spread to the lymph nodes. Next, remaining in the CT scanner, I underwent scanning of my entire chest, abdomen, and pelvis. For acral melanoma, the most likely places where the cancer cells would recur would be locally, in the regional lymph nodes, in the brain, in the lung, or in the liver.

My next stop that day was to see my Oncologist to review all the lab work and all the imaging studies. As a patient, I have begun to realize how stressful this process is for my own patients, who live from scan to scan to scan….

So…… I was so happy to receive the good news that all of my bloodwork was perfect, and that the imaging studies of my brain, my right upper extremity, my chest, my abdomen, and my pelvis demonstrated no evidence of the presence of any cancer!

I appreciate your love and support. For those who follow my cancer story, you know that it is still being written, and I continue to be completely transparent with you. I continue to be cancer free, and feel like God is restoring me to share my testimony and to give comfort to other cancer patients. My next round of testing is schedule for May 25, 2023, where the process repeats itself!

May God bless you!

Dr. B