Rick’s Story: “We’re stronger than we think.”

Before his diagnosis, Rick Lyman dismissed the subtle symptoms he noticed—tiny particles in his urine that slightly discolored the water. It wasn’t until he spotted small blood clots that he sought medical advice. That decision, made in February 2021, led to an unexpected diagnosis and a journey of resilience, hope, and life-changing lessons. This is Rick’s story:

Before my diagnosis, I didn’t think much of the symptoms I was experiencing. I noticed some minor blood in my urine—just small particles that made the water in the toilet look slightly off-color. At first, I didn’t even realize it was blood. It seemed like such a minor thing, so I didn’t think much of it. But as time passed, I started paying closer attention and realized they were tiny blood clots. That’s when I decided it was time to make an appointment with the doctor. This was back in February of 2021.

When I went to my local urgent care on Valentine’s Day, I still thought it was something minor, like kidney stones. They sent me for a CT scan, which confirmed the presence of kidney stones—but it also revealed something else: a mass in my bladder. That moment marked the start of a whirlwind journey. I saw a urologist right away, and it was confirmed that I had bladder cancer. At the time, I didn’t know much about bladder cancer, so the first thing I did while sitting in the doctor’s office was search online, “Is bladder cancer curable?” When I saw that it was treatable and curable, I wasn’t too worried—at least not at first.

Things became more serious after my TURBT (transurethral resection of bladder tumor). That’s when I learned the specifics of my diagnosis. It wasn’t just bladder cancer; it was muscle-invasive, high-grade bladder cancer with squamous differentiation. Learning about the difference between low-grade and high-grade cancers, and non-muscle-invasive versus muscle-invasive cancers, was overwhelming. I found out I had the worst-case scenario: a highly aggressive form of bladder cancer. My wife and I were devastated. It felt like the world was crashing down around us.

When the biopsy results came back, the doctor told me it was stage two. That news, in a strange way, was a relief. Knowing it was stage two gave me some hope. It meant we caught it before it spread further, but the emotional toll of that moment was enormous. As I processed the diagnosis, all I could think about was making sure my wife and my twin daughters—who were away at college—would be okay. I wanted to make sure they were taken care of no matter what happened to me.

Physically, I felt fine during this early phase. The TURBT went smoothly, and I recovered quickly, but emotionally, I was a wreck. Hearing the words “you have cancer” hit me like a freight train. I cried, feeling like my world was ending. My wife was my rock through it all. If it weren’t for her unwavering strength and positivity, I don’t know how I would’ve made it through. She held everything together when I couldn’t. My daughters, though far away, supported me as much as they could over the phone and through texts. Their love and encouragement meant the world to me.

One of the hardest parts of the journey was the uncertainty. After learning about the aggressive nature of my cancer, I couldn’t stop thinking about the long road ahead. I knew it would involve chemotherapy and bladder removal surgery, but I didn’t know how it would end. Would the treatments work? Would I get through this? I tried to stay positive, but there were days when it felt impossible.

The chemotherapy was fatiguing. I’d heard stories about its side effects, but experiencing it firsthand was another matter. I knew it was a necessary step to fight the cancer. Once the chemotherapy was complete, I underwent a radical cystectomy. The surgery was extensive, involving the removal of my bladder and the creation of a neobladder. It was a physically and emotionally taxing process, but I was determined to do whatever it took to beat this disease. Recovery from the surgery was challenging, but over time, I adjusted to my new normal.

Looking back, if I could give advice to anyone just starting this journey, I’d say don’t panic. When you hear the word “cancer,” it’s easy to assume the worst, but you have to take things one step at a time. Wait to hear what your doctors have to say. Even if you’re faced with a tough diagnosis like mine, it’s not the end of the world. Bladder cancer is treatable, and it’s possible to come out on the other side. Life might look different, but it can still be good.

During my treatment, I discovered the Bladder Cancer Advocacy Network (BCAN). Reading patient stories and connecting with others through their programs, like Inspire, made a huge difference. Knowing there were people who truly understood what I was going through was incredibly comforting. I’ve even stayed in touch with a few people I met through BCAN. They’ve become a source of support and encouragement, even now.

I haven’t yet joined BCAN’s Survivor to Survivor program, though I’ve thought about it. I’d love to help others going through this journey, but I’ve hesitated because I’m such a positive person. I worry that if I tell someone everything will be okay, and it doesn’t turn out that way for them, it might do more harm than good. Still, I know how powerful it can be to hear from someone who’s been through it and come out on the other side. It’s something I’m still considering.

If I could go back and talk to myself when I was first diagnosed, I’d say this: Take a deep breath. Relax. Listen to your doctors and follow their guidance. Don’t give up hope. Even if the news is tough to hear, you can get through this. The journey will be hard, but it will make you stronger. Life will go on, and it can still be full of joy and meaning.

This experience has changed me in ways I couldn’t have imagined. It’s been a roller coaster of emotions, but I’ve come out of it with a renewed perspective on life. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that we’re stronger than we think, and with the right support, we can face even the toughest challenges.