Many of my readers are aware that I am being treated for stage IV metastatic prostate cancer. The cancer has made its way via the bloodstream to the fourth vertebrae in my neck. I am happy to report that treatments which I am receiving seem to be working, and that, except for a very uncomfortable neck brace, which I have to wear almost 24/7, I am feeling quite well.
I am not telling you about my ordeal as an appeal for your sympathy; rather I want to share some of my observations since I was diagnosed. Some people would say there is no upside to having a life-threatening illness, and, for sure, I would never have voluntarily chosen to go down this path. But life is unpredictable, and we don’t always get to choose what direction it will lead.
I’m 76 years old, and until now, I’ve been a very active person. I played a lot of golf. Marilyn and I walked and hiked, rode our bicycles, worked out at the Y, and did a lot of volunteer work in the community.
The news that I had cancer ripped away some of the expectations I had of myself to be a certain type of person with a certain type of life. All of a sudden, instead of being an independent “doer,” I became a person with limited mobility and a reliance on the kindnesses and good will of others.
Cancer robs you of your ability to look at the big picture — or at least obscures it. I had spent a lifetime focusing on the big picture, but cancer has forced me to look at the small picture. I had no choice.
I quickly learned that trying to predict the results of radiation and a long regimen of hormone and steroid therapy was a tortuous and futile exercise. All I could do was to go along for the ride. So I was forced to focus on the present.
I hesitate to use the word “gift” in the same sentence as “cancer,” but in some ways, maybe my cancer is a gift. Rather than being an ominous dark rain cloud hanging over my head, it has opened my eyes to the kindnesses and compassion of the people around me and allowed me to face the future with optimism and a positive outlook.
So cancer has not been all bad (that sounds so strange to write). I have learned just how much my family and friends care about me. Marilyn has had to take over some of the chores that were typically mine, in addition to all of her own stuff. She’s full-time chauffeur and cook and bottle washer. She has been forced to sacrifice many of her activities to cater to me. Our kids and grandkids have been wonderfully supportive.
My best friend David has taken over my outdoor chores and driven me to treatment sessions. He comes over to play cribbage and makes me laugh. My next door neighbor Nate has cleaned out my driveway a couple of times. Friends and neighbors have brought us food and flowers. We have been inundated with cards, e-mails and phone calls. Everywhere we go, people tell us they’re praying for us. So, is there an upside? I think so.
I have a new appreciation for the many wonderful people who work in health care. So many people were kind to me. Their competence and compassion are overwhelming.
I will spend the rest of my life grateful for every day I have, even when some days are miserable physically. I can honestly say that I have always appreciated life and the everyday things that many people may take for granted — like sunrises and sunsets, the changing colors of autumn, the pelicans on the lake, music, art, theater, good food — but now I appreciate them on a deeper level.
Now that my life is on hold in some ways, I realize how much life I still want to live.
I am still a novice at learning how to live life after a diagnosis of cancer. I don’t have many answers; in fact, I don’t know if I have any. Every day I struggle and every day I rejoice. I am struggling to find my new balance and my purpose, and I rejoice in all the blessings I have been given. I am trying to value who I am today and stop comparing to who I was “before.”
I have cancer, but it doesn’t have me!
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