Finally told mom

Zelda: Zach recently started letting people know about his diagnosis. It began with low-stakes conversations, and sometimes offhand remarks, with folks we don’t know well or don't socialize with often. He told a neighbor, then another. He even mentioned it to a clerk when we were checking out at the grocery store. I felt like he was testing the waters; trying different ways to share the news, comparing reactions, and maybe building up his courage to tell his family.

I had theories about why Zach didn’t want to tell anyone: If he did, it would be like giving in to cancer: Admitting he had this problem no one could solve. Or worse, opening himself up to pity, or people telling him what they thought he should do. Zach has always hated being told what to do.

At the same time, I knew he was tired of hiding the diagnosis from his mom—telling her everything was fine, when clearly, it was not. He wasn’t exactly lying, but it was a charade, and it was getting harder to keep up the performance. 

When he finally told his mom, it caught me by surprise. It was during our weekly phone call. We had her on speaker, and the conversation went something like this:

Mom: Hello?

Zach: Hey there! How’s my favorite mom?

Mom: [Giggles] Oh, she’s hanging in there, I guess. Bein’ lazy. Just woke up from a nap. [More giggles] 

Zach: Good for you!

Mom: How are you all? Everybody good there?

Zach: We’re OK. [pauses, draws a deep breath] The Good News is: I’m still alive. The Bad News is: I don’t know for how long. [another pause]

Mom: What?

Zach: Stage 4 prostate. 

Mom: What? WHAT?

Zach: [Tears up and leaves the room. Motions for me to pick up the conversation. I think he wants me to explain. I’ve been rehearsing this moment in my head for years, but I felt awkwardly unprepared.]

Zelda: Hey mom. What Zach is trying to tell you is…he’s been diagnosed with cancer. Prostate cancer. He’s actually going through chemotherapy for it now.

Mom: Now 2 of my sons have had prostate cancer! When did he find out?

Zelda: He’s been in treatment for a while. He was actually diagnosed 6 years ago.

Mom: 6…YEARS? 

Zelda: Yes.

Mom: 6 YEARS? And he’s just telling me now?

Zelda: Yeah, he’s been getting treatment for about 6 years now. He didn’t want to tell anyone, ‘cause he felt like there was nothing anybody could do. It would only cause concern. And he’s done really well with all the oral therapies. The side effects have been pretty minimal. We could almost forget about the diagnosis most days. But this summer, the oral therapies stopped working. The doctors told us they always stop working, at some point. Chemo was the next thing to try, and he’s going through that now. 

Mom: Have you told anyone else? 

Zach: [Rejoins the conversation] No, you’re the first. [chokes up again, then recovers.] Feel free to let everybody know.

Mom: I wouldn’t know what to say. You should tell everyone.

Zelda: We chatted a little longer, and Zach promised to send a text to the family chain. After we hung up, I felt a great sense of relief. At the same time, I realized that we’d just dropped a tremendous weight on Zach’s mom. We’d had 6 years to come to terms with his diagnosis. She’d had 10 minutes. I could only imagine how she was feeling.

Zach expected the phone calls and texts to start flying as soon as we hung up, but no one called. No one texted. Mom had not spread the news. She was waiting for Zach to do that.

A few days later, Zach got a call from his younger brother. He’d stopped by to visit mom, and she told him to call and find out what was going on. Zach told him, and the tears flowed again. That afternoon, we texted the family with the news. One-off phone calls were just too hard.

So the secret is out! Zach finally told his family about his diagnosis. And he’s starting to tell close friends, too. Most have the same response: "When did you find out?" Followed by, "Why didn’t you tell me before?!" And sometimes, "I thought something was off. This explains a lot."

If it’s an older guy they always want to compare PSA (prostate stimulating antigen) numbers. So far, Zach always has the biggest. It was1060 when he was diagnosed almost 7 years ago.

And now that folks know what's up, I can breathe a bit easier. I'm already feeling waves of support from close family and friends. And if I need to reach out for help, I know they'll be there for us.

Two questions are now top of mind for me: 

1. Do I still need to keep writing, now that Zach has opened up about his diagnosis?

2. I haven't told Zach I'm writing this blog, and it’s been 6 months. Should I tell him now, or just keep between me and all of y’all who are following our story?