It’s spring of 2024, and I’m beginning my 26th year as a career firefighter with the Violet Township Fire Department in Pickerington, Ohio. I’m enjoying the twilight of my career at VTFD and spending my spare time helping out at FDTN in Indy. My family is doing well. We’re watching the twins pursue their own dreams. My wife and I are starting to plan for my retirement from the fire service in four short years. To put it simply: life is good!
In March/April we are offered the Galleri Multi-Cancer Early Detection (MCED) Test at work. It’s a simple blood test to check for more than 50 cancers. I say, “What the hell … might as well take it.” I have no idea what the test is or how it works. A typical firefighter, I do no research and just get my blood drawn. I know I have had a ton of exposures but cancer will not happen to me.
On April 23, 2024, Galleri called me with my results. I have signals for esophageal, stomach, and colorectal cancer. They advise me to contact my primary care doctor and seek further testing. This doesn’t register with me. I think, “Whatever. I don’t have cancer.” I have no symptoms: no trouble eating or drinking, no reflux, no gut issues, nothing! After taking some time to think about things, better judgment gets me to visit my primary care provider. She has no idea what test I took but agrees I should get some scopes done to check things out. The test is new to every doctor I meet during this process.
The colonoscopy comes back negative and now it’s time for an endoscopy. The first scope is in July. My doctor says he can’t see much, but it is pretty “gnarly” in there. He puts me on some meds before we do another scope in September. I’m still not experiencing any issues or symptoms.
My next scope is on Sept. 23, 2024. Going into the procedure, I’m laughing with my doctor and just having a fun conversation. When he comes in after the scope, his demeanor has drastically changed. The first words I remember are, “We will do some more tests to get this staged and plan a course of action.” He says he’ll call tomorrow with an official diagnosis after the biopsy is read. I still don’t think this is real.
The confirmation of Stage 1 esophageal cancer on Sept. 24, 2024, changes my life forever. Sharing the news with my chiefs and then my crew was one of the hardest things I ever had to do. I’m sent to Dr. Robert Merritt at The Ohio State University James Cancer Center. We have caught this early enough so I don’t have to undergo chemo or radiation. Thank God for the early detection test! It’ll be straight to an esophagectomy on Nov. 26, 2024, at The James. I believe this will be something easy and I’ll be back to work in no time.
I receive a recommendation to contact the Firefighter Cancer Support Network. I’m assigned a mentor and am sent a toolbox of materials to guide us through this difficult journey. The FCSN is a true blessing and I can’t thank them enough for all of the support.
It’s a brutal 11-hour surgery removing the lower 1/3 of my esophagus and up to 1/3 of my stomach, then pulling my stomach up into my chest to connect with what is left of my esophagus. For the first six days in the hospital, I’m not permitted any food or water. Only after passing a “swallow” test am I allowed to start a liquid diet.
I’m released after nine days to continue my recovery: multiple weeks of a liquid-only diet, then slowly moving on to soft foods, and finally learning to eat real food again. I must sleep sitting up and can only eat small portions of food without getting what’s called “dumping syndrome.” Everything I’ve known about eating and drinking for my entire life has drastically changed. The mental side of this is a whole different story. There were definitely good and bad days.
Fast forward to February 2025 and, miraculously, I’ve made it back to work on the truck. Everyone (doctors, family, friends, chiefs, coworkers) all said I should just relax and retire. I say FUCK CANCER and I’m coming back! I make it till July and realize I’m a burden to my crew. I just can’t do it physically anymore. This is the worst feeling in the world and toughest thing I ever had to admit … knowing you can’t do something you love.
I officially medically retired on Jan. 26, 2026. My new life is 100% different now. No more FD schedule/life, teaching at FDTN, eating anything you want, or physically doing certain things. You could look at this in a bad way. I see it as I’m alive! I’m adjusting daily to what I can and can’t do physically. It’s fun to find new ways to do things and to stay active. I realize I put almost 30 years into a successful fire service career (volunteer, part-time, and full-time). I was very blessed to have the opportunities I did over my career.
Today, I’m traveling, sharing my story and encouraging people to get tested for cancer. I’m also a mentor for the Firefighter Cancer Support Network. I have a new perspective on life and try to enjoy each day for the blessing it is. Esophageal cancer has a 5% survival rate. The Galleri test saved my life! Wear your mask, clean your gear, diet, exercise, and get tested! It can save your life.
