Finding out you have cancer can be overwhelming.
And even though learning about your diagnosis and discussing your treatment plan with your care team helps to prepare you for what’s to come, arriving for your first appointment can still feel a little daunting.
Fortunately for patients at Tanner, they never have to take that journey alone.
That was the case for John Mountain when he walked into the Roy Richards, Sr. Cancer Center for his first radiation therapy treatment after being diagnosed with prostate cancer.
John Rush, another patient with prostate cancer on day eight of his treatment, happened to be walking in at the same time.
After exchanging quick hellos and “what are you here for,” the two men found out they were essentially on the same treatment path. And Mountain says he just started talking: “Being my first day, he filled in a lot of questions” about what he could expect from treatment.
Rush was happy to oblige.
“It was good to be here with somebody going through the same thing,” he said. “You hate that someone else is going through it, but at least you have somebody to talk to about it.”
The two men began to look forward to seeing each other every day. Both were on a 28-day treatment plan, with daily radiation therapy except for weekends. They talked about life: what was going on at home and work. They also found out they had a lot in common, like hunting, fishing and gardening.
Then they talked about how they were diagnosed: Rush had no symptoms and only found out he had prostate cancer after his wife encouraged him to get a free screening.
As for Mountain, he had blown off the symptoms for a couple of years, chalking it up to old age. Then, when he had kidney stones, his doctor noticed his prostate-specific antigen (PSA) levels were high and suggested a biopsy. Just before Mountain and his wife were scheduled to go on vacation, his doctor gave him the news: He had prostate cancer.
As the treatment went on, the two men also talked about the side effects that most people — unless they were going through a similar diagnosis — might not like sharing, like how hard it is to keep a full bladder during treatment or the discomfort of going to the bathroom once you’ve had a few treatments.
“You don’t feel like you’re alone, like you’re going through it by yourself,” said Mountain. “You’ve got enough worries in the back of your mind with it being cancer: Is this going to help, what’s the treatment like, is it going to hurt, will I have to come back? Just somebody else going through it, a shoulder to lean on, someone to talk to, someone to share your stories with about how they’re dealing with it and how you’re dealing with it. I could talk to my wife, but she’s not a guy, and it’s a guy kind of thing.”
National studies point to the value of support during cancer treatment, specifically for men with an intimate disease like prostate cancer.
“Diagnosis and treatment can be a difficult time for patients, and our staff and physicians are dedicated to helping patients through it with compassion and empathy,” said Jason Sanders, MD, a radiation oncologist at Tanner.
Between Mountain and Rush, they’d found kinship — and humor played a big role, too.
“Once, he told me, ‘Don’t worry, it’ll get better; it’s not that bad,’” said Mountain. “Then I talked to him later on, and he said, ‘I lied.’”
“You have to sit there with a full bladder and try not to think about it,” said Rush. “It’s rough. It’s like, ‘Oh, I peed myself again.’”
“It was good,” Mountain added. “We could laugh, and we could joke about it. He really was a good mentor, and he had a positive attitude that it was going to be OK. We bounced off each other and helped each other.”
Then Rush had his last day of treatment.
It’s become a tradition for patients with cancer to ring a bell to mark the milestone. When Rush walked out and rang his bell, Mountain was there waiting.
“I cried for him,” said Mountain. “It seemed like such a journey in the beginning, and it was so short at the end. I was so happy for him and so relieved that everything would be OK and could get back to normal.”
Rush’s wife and coworkers also joined him for the celebration. But a week later, Rush started thinking about Mountain’s last day and his bell. He wondered if his new friend would have someone there with him.
And Mountain already knew he’d be there alone since his wife had just started a new job and couldn’t.
Rush called the cancer center to find out exactly when Mountain would be ringing his bell. And when he walked out of his last treatment, Rush was there.
“Then I really cried,” said Mountain. “I actually did — tears rolled down my face. I walked out and was like, ‘I can’t believe it. I was hoping you’d be here.’”
And Rush said, “You stayed and watched me. I was not going to pass on the opportunity to see you, man.”
The two men hugged and shook hands, while staff looked on with tears too. “I said, ‘Maybe I won’t cry,’” said Rush. “And he said, ‘Don’t do that.’ It was an awesome feeling. We did it all together, him and me. We were back to back. He’d go in, and then I’d go in.”
“It was a team effort,” Mountain said. “Some days when I didn’t feel like it, he’d pull me up and vice versa. It was good to have someone going through it at the same time, instead of just going by yourself.”
As the two men walked out, Mountain said, “By the way, my name’s John.”
Rush grinned, “My name’s John, too.”
“I had my ID badge on and showed him,” Rush said. “‘I’m not kidding; I’m a John.’”
The two men continue to text and call, and both are having their first checkup after radiation therapy within a few days of one another.
“When you’re going through hard times, God always gives you something to help you hang onto,” said Mountain. “He sent John."