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David McGrath - Happy 18th Birthday, You Have Brain Cancer!


(back left) Dave's brother Jon, his wife Jen, his sisters Megan and Carolyn, (front left) Dave in the My cancer story starts with the diagnosis of another disease.  When I was 14, I was diagnosed with Crohn's Disease.  I had been having symptoms for months, but didn't see a doctor until the pain was unbearable.  Emergency surgery was ordered thanks to my neighbor "Dr. Bob", and my Crohn's diseased intestines were found and 1 and a half feet of them were removed.  I was in the hospital for Christmas that year.  It sucked, but I had loving family and friends who supported me. 

Medically, things went pretty well for me up until my 18th birthday.  I started having double vision and headaches. Unlike with my Crohn's Disease symptoms, I decided to see a doctor right away. After seeing an optometrist, opthomologist, and opthomologist/neurologist, a CAT Scan was ordered.

I will never forget lying down on the CT Machine.  There was a sticker with a cat looking through a magnifying glass that said "Don't worry, it's only a cat scan" - I wasn't amused.  When the CT technician came in and removed the headrest, she told me to lean farther back because the doctor wanted more pictures from a different angle.

I knew they must have found something.  There was no way the doctor would have wanted more pictures if there was nothing there.  Every expletive I knew went through my head repeatedly, and I think I even made up a few new ones.  Then, I thought of my mom, who was waiting for me outside the x-ray room.  I knew I had to be strong.

My assumptions were confirmed when I saw the look on my mother's face.  She told me they had found a tumor in my brain.  She was already trying to hold back the tears, so I gave her a smile.  I told her the doctors took care of my Crohn's, and they would take care of this, too.  I knew when I told her I really had to believe it, so from that moment on I never stopped believing it. And thanks to my Crohn's, I knew having loving and supporting friends and family made it easier to deal with medical issues.  

After a few weeks of not being sure if my tumor was cancerous, I was in a brain surgeon's office with my parents.  The plan was to cut out a piece of my tumor and see what the cells looked like.  I remember I had to sign a lot of release forms relating to the dangerous nature of brain surgery.  One of them said something like "with all brain surgery, there is a chance the patient will experience a severe personality change."  I showed the line to my parents, smiled and said, "Yeah, you guys wish!"  We were all laughing, right before going in to have the doctor describe the operation.  We met, he told us what he was going to do, and we set a date.

Days before my scheduled biopsy, a blood test came back that told my doctors what kind of tumor I had.  Good news, no brain surgery.  Bad news, I had brain cancer.  More good news, the doctors had a game plan to take care of the cancer. My course of treatment called for 4-6 rounds of chemotherapy (VP16, Bleomycin, Carboplatin)  followed by radiation.

The day of my first round of chemotherapy, "Dr. Bob" came to my room to tell me that he had read studies that showed cancer patients who used visualization during their treatment had higher success rates.  I used his advice throughout my treatments, and my visions weren't very merciful to my cancer. My chemo gave me a lot of the "usual suspects" of side effects.  There was the vomiting, no energy, chills, amplified Crohn's, "double explosions", aches, fever, hair loss, and times of frustration.  When I was having a bad day, I kept telling myself the cancer must be having an even worse day.  And I was right.

Six tough rounds of chemo later, the radiologist met with me to tell me the good news.  The chemotherapy medication had done its job, and I didn't need radiation.  The doctors really had no explanation why I didn't need radiation, but they told me I was done with treatment. I wasn't going to argue with them.

Even though my personal physical fight with cancer was done, I still knew young men my age who had their own battle to fight. Danny Manning was in the same class as me in high school and I knew Greg Montalbano from our hometown of Westboro, MA and high school. They both helped me find a meaning behind my struggle with cancer and inspire me daily to do whatever I can to "fight back".

Thanks to the inspiration and support of people like Danny, Greg, my family, friends, doctors, and nurses, my cancer story has a happy ending.  Not only did my brain cancer lead me to a job that I love, it led me to a job that gives reason to my battle with cancer.  I now work at Hope Lodge, in Worcester, MA.  It's a house run by the American Cancer Society that provides free rooms to cancer patients from all over the world who are getting treatment in local hospitals.  Every night, I get to hang out with guests, laugh, support, share cancer stories, and pass on what I learned from my battle with this disease.  Pretty darn cool, I think. 


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