Twin Valley
Relay For Life
June 17 & 18
My friend, Sean Meehan, of Valley Forge, Pennsylvania has been battling for his life since last October. We have all watched his brave journey and pray for his continued recovery. We call him "Super Sean" because of his young brave heart (he's only 22) during this long journey.
He will take part in the above relay up in Pennsylvania. If you are in that area, please participate. I would also like to ask you all, as a cancer survivor myself, to support your own local cancer fund-raising activities.
 |
| Sean with his mother, Lisa, at this year's Relay for Life |
Sean was mentioned in a recent Tri-County Record, of Berks County, Pennsylvania, story:
"At 7:00 PM there will be a Survivor Ceremony where Twin Valley residents Jo Young and Sean Meehan will speak about their journeys with cancer. Jo Young was diagnosed with Thyroid cancer in 1975. Since her cancer was directly related to radiation exposure, which is straight from current headlines, she felt this would be a good time to share her story. Sean Meehan was diagnosed with nonseminoma germ cell cancer (a very rare form of cancer) in October, 2010. This is his first year participating in Relay For Life."
Sean also recently spoke at a school up in Pennsylvania. Here's what he had to say:
My name is Sean. I am 22 years old. I like to cook, hang out with friends, listen to music and see movies. I spend most of my time with family, friends and church. I am a cancer survivor.
For years, I was a supporter of programs with the American Cancer Society such as Relay for Life, Alex’s Lemonade Stand, Make A Wish and the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure. I’ve donated money to fundraisers; walked with thousands of other participants and bought countless Lemon Water Ices from Rita’s - all to raise money to help those afflicted by cancer.
I never pictured myself speaking to you as one of those afflicted.
I studied Culinary Arts in college. I had a job I liked, and a great group of friends. I still have those friends but everything else disappeared last October. You see, I had the flu pretty bad months earlier and although I felt better, I never got rid of the cough. Over the next few months, my doctors tried everything to fix the cough. I tried all types of medications and remedies and then my doctor ordered an x-ray.
I remember going to get the x-ray and planning what I’d be doing the rest of that weekend once I got it out of the way. I had no idea that once I entered the medical center, my life would change forever. And I wouldn’t go home for 26 days.
Within minutes of getting the xray, the nurse comes to me and asks, “Which hospital would you like to go to?” I wondered why I needed to decide that. The nurse followed up by explaining that she needed to tell the ambulance where they were taking me.
The doctor explained to my parents that he determined I had a solid mass in my thorax – my chest cavity – that was about 10 inches by 5 inches. Picture a football. That’s what I had in my chest. I was coughing because it was moving my windpipe over to the side and gradually closing it. I went by ambulance to a hospital in Philadelphia and was admitted in the cardiothoracic unit while they figured out exactly what I had. I found out later that my mom went home and cried for hours.
I was told right away that it was probably cancer. What kind of cancer was the question? Within a few days, I had a biopsy. They cut a small incision near my shoulder and took a piece of the tumor to test it. Waiting for the results was difficult.
Hearing that I had cancer was something I couldn’t believe. I wondered what kind I had. Please let it be an easy, treatable one. I was missing a lot. My Aunt was getting married that Saturday. My grandparents were celebrating their 50th Wedding anniversary that Sunday. I was annoyed, then angry that I couldn’t leave the hospital to go to either event. I became depressed over what I was missing.
After almost two and a half weeks in the hospital, the doctors were able to determine what kind of cancer I have. Mediastinal Non-seminoma germ cell cancer. This is a rare form of a rare cancer. The odds of getting it are millions to one. I asked my parents what color ribbon to get and they couldn’t find a color for it. Chemotherapy started that day.
Let me explain how chemo was handled. I received four toxic drugs intravenously. The iv dripped slowly for thirteen hours each night. I received them for five nights in a row. The drugs were designed to kill the cancer cells, but they also killed other cells too. I lost my hair. I lost good blood cells and had to get many blood transfusions. This was the atomic bomb of chemotherapy. I felt like a zombie but I knew I was going to fight this with everything I had.
And then I went home for the first time in 26 days.
I was weak and had a nurse come to my house every few days to take blood for testing. Can I talk for a moment about the needles? No matter how many times I needed to either have medicine injected or blood taken, the needles hurt. Every. Single. Time. I’ll never get used to the needles.
Being home with my family and friends helped me recover faster after chemotherapy. But chemotherapy needed to continue every three weeks for at least three more times. Each time I would get chemo, I would be very sick and weak for about 10 days. Then, just as I was feeling better, it would be time for me to head back to the hospital for another five days and get more chemo. I had to go back to the hospital several times in between rounds because I needed blood or nutrients to stay alive. It was a depressing time. I spent Thanksgiving and my birthday at home recovering from my second round of chemo. On my birthday, I checked the calendar to see when the next round would begin when I realized something horrible. My last round of chemo would take place over Christmas.
Before each round of chemo would begin, I would get an X-ray to see the size of tumor. My tumor was shrinking and I thought, “At least the chemo is doing something.” By the time Christmas rolled around, however, the tumor stopped shrinking. I spent Christmas week in the hospital, mostly sick or asleep. It was the worst time ever. I wanted to give up.
This was a very lonely time. I had plenty of people around me, but none could understand what I was going through. I had a cancer no one else had. I had a kind of chemo few people experience. There was no one at the hospital getting treated for what I had. Some family and friends didn’t know what to say, so they said nothing. They avoided me. Other times, it was hard to read Facebook and see everyone else’s status. People were out doing things and having fun and I was at home dying. It made me angry that I didn’t do anything to cause this. I lived a healthy life. It was unfair.
I prayed a lot during this time. And I came to realize through my faith that God didn’t cause this to happen to me. He was there to give me strength.
I decided that I may never understand why I have this disease; but that I would use my situation to help others. Because my cancer is so rare, I meet with new doctors and medical students all the time. My type of cancer gives so many doctors an opportunity to learn so they may help treat others more effectively.
In February, I discovered I had another tumor that was hidden by the first. It was smaller, but very dangerous. It grew against my heart, aorta and trachea. I needed surgery and the decision was made to try and remove both tumors. I had the surgery in April, but after a seven hour surgery they could only remove one – the smaller one.
I still have a tumor about the size of a grapefruit in my chest. It hasn’t grown since chemo, but I can’t say I’m in remission yet. I have many more tests to see if what remains is no longer a threat. But I’m grateful for each day I am here. I’m very lucky to have such a great family and terrific friends to help me through this. I’ve said over and over in the last 8 months that I have cancer, but cancer does not have me. Thank you for letting me share my story.
I'd say this is one brave young man. I wish for Sean the opportunity to experience life to the fullest. I wish him love; happiness; success in whatever he undertakes; and most of all, a healthy body that will enable him to do what he wants to do in life. I love you, Sean.
