Chris Ketterman
Patient/Survivor |
Rectal - Stage III |
Age at Diagnosis: 40
The cancer community often uses the word survivor, and I honor that. Personally, I see myself as a warrior — because this experience has been a battle that continues to shape me. I am a Cancer Warrior.
On April 5th, 2023, I was diagnosed with Stage II (later upgraded to Stage III) invasive adenocarcinoma, moderately differentiated, in the rectal wall. My journey began with persistent stomach issues that just wouldn’t go away. My PCP suggested an elimination diet, which helped for a short while — until the bleeding began.
Despite multiple tests, my blood work showed no cancer markers. I insisted on a colonoscopy, even though my doctor didn’t think it was necessary. I told them if they weren’t willing to schedule it, I’d find someone who would.
That decision saved my life.
After the colonoscopy, I woke up to news that would change everything: I had a tennis-ball-sized cancerous tumor in my rectum, and the first doctor recommended immediate surgery to remove my colon and rectum. I asked for a second opinion. My then-wife and I made calls to family, friends, and medical professionals until we found a doctor who was up to date on modern cancer treatments.
The next 48 hours were controlled chaos: doctor’s appointments, MRIs, X-rays, CT scans, and surgery to place a port. Every moment felt urgent. Every decision mattered.
I met my oncologist, Dr. Khalil, on April 11th and began chemotherapy on April 19th. I was given Oxaliplatin, Leucovorin, Irinotecan, and Fluorouracil. The toll on my body was intense — eight-hour infusions once a week, plus a 48-hour Fluorouracil pump at home.
On July 17th, I began radiation therapy and switched to a 24/7 5FU pump for 25 days. I consider myself lucky; I was able to work and still enjoy most of my hobbies through chemo and radiation.
On August 28, 2023, I completed my final infusion and rang the bell — wearing my shirt that proudly stated: “Cancer Touched My Butt, So I Kicked Its Ass.”
That moment represented every ounce of determination, support, and stubborn willpower it took to get there.
While going through chemo, I met my surgeon, Dr. Mustain. We began planning the next step. After several scans and consultations, I received the best news I’d heard in months: my last MRI showed the tumor was “too insignificant to measure.” The chemo, radiation, and prayer had worked.
On November 21, 2023, I had my resection surgery. Dr. Mustain worked for nine hours to remove what remained. We did it out of an abundance of caution — because I wasn’t willing to risk a comeback.
On February 12, 2024, I was declared in remission.
No one fights alone — and this journey reminded me just how much support, love, and determination matter.
During chemo, my daughter had to miss a school field trip for a doctor’s appointment. To make up for it, we took her to that same destination ourselves — and that day became the start of something bigger. Together, we decided to visit all 52 Arkansas State Parks.
Even when I was weak, I pushed through. Sometimes I rested while they explored, but those trips gave me purpose. They gave me life.
Cancer isn’t just a diagnosis — it’s a battle that tests every part of who you are. I faced fear, exhaustion, and uncertainty, but I never let it define me. I met each challenge with courage, humor, and the belief that I would fight back.
Life after cancer is about rediscovery. My body isn’t the same, but my spirit is stronger. I appreciate the small things now — early mornings, laughter, hikes with my daughter. Healing doesn’t stop when treatment ends; it continues in the way you choose to live.
Cancer may have touched my butt, but it never touched my will to keep going.
Chris Ketterman
Patient/Survivor |
Rectal - Stage III |
Age at Diagnosis: 40
The cancer community often uses the word survivor, and I honor that. Personally, I see myself as a warrior — because this experience has been a battle that continues to shape me. I am a Cancer Warrior.
On April 5th, 2023, I was diagnosed with Stage II (later upgraded to Stage III) invasive adenocarcinoma, moderately differentiated, in the rectal wall. My journey began with persistent stomach issues that just wouldn’t go away. My PCP suggested an elimination diet, which helped for a short while — until the bleeding began.
Despite multiple tests, my blood work showed no cancer markers. I insisted on a colonoscopy, even though my doctor didn’t think it was necessary. I told them if they weren’t willing to schedule it, I’d find someone who would.
That decision saved my life.
After the colonoscopy, I woke up to news that would change everything: I had a tennis-ball-sized cancerous tumor in my rectum, and the first doctor recommended immediate surgery to remove my colon and rectum. I asked for a second opinion. My then-wife and I made calls to family, friends, and medical professionals until we found a doctor who was up to date on modern cancer treatments.
The next 48 hours were controlled chaos: doctor’s appointments, MRIs, X-rays, CT scans, and surgery to place a port. Every moment felt urgent. Every decision mattered.
I met my oncologist, Dr. Khalil, on April 11th and began chemotherapy on April 19th. I was given Oxaliplatin, Leucovorin, Irinotecan, and Fluorouracil. The toll on my body was intense — eight-hour infusions once a week, plus a 48-hour Fluorouracil pump at home.
On July 17th, I began radiation therapy and switched to a 24/7 5FU pump for 25 days. I consider myself lucky; I was able to work and still enjoy most of my hobbies through chemo and radiation.
On August 28, 2023, I completed my final infusion and rang the bell — wearing my shirt that proudly stated: “Cancer Touched My Butt, So I Kicked Its Ass.”
That moment represented every ounce of determination, support, and stubborn willpower it took to get there.
While going through chemo, I met my surgeon, Dr. Mustain. We began planning the next step. After several scans and consultations, I received the best news I’d heard in months: my last MRI showed the tumor was “too insignificant to measure.” The chemo, radiation, and prayer had worked.
On November 21, 2023, I had my resection surgery. Dr. Mustain worked for nine hours to remove what remained. We did it out of an abundance of caution — because I wasn’t willing to risk a comeback.
On February 12, 2024, I was declared in remission.
No one fights alone — and this journey reminded me just how much support, love, and determination matter.
During chemo, my daughter had to miss a school field trip for a doctor’s appointment. To make up for it, we took her to that same destination ourselves — and that day became the start of something bigger. Together, we decided to visit all 52 Arkansas State Parks.
Even when I was weak, I pushed through. Sometimes I rested while they explored, but those trips gave me purpose. They gave me life.
Cancer isn’t just a diagnosis — it’s a battle that tests every part of who you are. I faced fear, exhaustion, and uncertainty, but I never let it define me. I met each challenge with courage, humor, and the belief that I would fight back.
Life after cancer is about rediscovery. My body isn’t the same, but my spirit is stronger. I appreciate the small things now — early mornings, laughter, hikes with my daughter. Healing doesn’t stop when treatment ends; it continues in the way you choose to live.
Cancer may have touched my butt, but it never touched my will to keep going.
"To anyone facing cancer: your fight is yours. Whether you call yourself a survivor, warrior, or fighter — own it. Stand strong, demand the care you deserve, and never underestimate the power of persistence, hope, and humor."
Chris Ketterman
Patient/Survivor |
Rectal - Stage III |
Age at Diagnosis: 40
The cancer community often uses the word survivor, and I honor that. Personally, I see myself as a warrior — because this experience has been a battle that continues to shape me. I am a Cancer Warrior.
On April 5th, 2023, I was diagnosed with Stage II (later upgraded to Stage III) invasive adenocarcinoma, moderately differentiated, in the rectal wall. My journey began with persistent stomach issues that just wouldn’t go away. My PCP suggested an elimination diet, which helped for a short while — until the bleeding began.
Despite multiple tests, my blood work showed no cancer markers. I insisted on a colonoscopy, even though my doctor didn’t think it was necessary. I told them if they weren’t willing to schedule it, I’d find someone who would.
That decision saved my life.
After the colonoscopy, I woke up to news that would change everything: I had a tennis-ball-sized cancerous tumor in my rectum, and the first doctor recommended immediate surgery to remove my colon and rectum. I asked for a second opinion. My then-wife and I made calls to family, friends, and medical professionals until we found a doctor who was up to date on modern cancer treatments.
The next 48 hours were controlled chaos: doctor’s appointments, MRIs, X-rays, CT scans, and surgery to place a port. Every moment felt urgent. Every decision mattered.
I met my oncologist, Dr. Khalil, on April 11th and began chemotherapy on April 19th. I was given Oxaliplatin, Leucovorin, Irinotecan, and Fluorouracil. The toll on my body was intense — eight-hour infusions once a week, plus a 48-hour Fluorouracil pump at home.
On July 17th, I began radiation therapy and switched to a 24/7 5FU pump for 25 days. I consider myself lucky; I was able to work and still enjoy most of my hobbies through chemo and radiation.
On August 28, 2023, I completed my final infusion and rang the bell — wearing my shirt that proudly stated: “Cancer Touched My Butt, So I Kicked Its Ass.”
That moment represented every ounce of determination, support, and stubborn willpower it took to get there.
While going through chemo, I met my surgeon, Dr. Mustain. We began planning the next step. After several scans and consultations, I received the best news I’d heard in months: my last MRI showed the tumor was “too insignificant to measure.” The chemo, radiation, and prayer had worked.
On November 21, 2023, I had my resection surgery. Dr. Mustain worked for nine hours to remove what remained. We did it out of an abundance of caution — because I wasn’t willing to risk a comeback.
On February 12, 2024, I was declared in remission.
No one fights alone — and this journey reminded me just how much support, love, and determination matter.
During chemo, my daughter had to miss a school field trip for a doctor’s appointment. To make up for it, we took her to that same destination ourselves — and that day became the start of something bigger. Together, we decided to visit all 52 Arkansas State Parks.
Even when I was weak, I pushed through. Sometimes I rested while they explored, but those trips gave me purpose. They gave me life.
Cancer isn’t just a diagnosis — it’s a battle that tests every part of who you are. I faced fear, exhaustion, and uncertainty, but I never let it define me. I met each challenge with courage, humor, and the belief that I would fight back.
Life after cancer is about rediscovery. My body isn’t the same, but my spirit is stronger. I appreciate the small things now — early mornings, laughter, hikes with my daughter. Healing doesn’t stop when treatment ends; it continues in the way you choose to live.
Cancer may have touched my butt, but it never touched my will to keep going.
"To anyone facing cancer: your fight is yours. Whether you call yourself a survivor, warrior, or fighter — own it. Stand strong, demand the care you deserve, and never underestimate the power of persistence, hope, and humor."
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