I just wanted to give everyone another quick update on my fight with cancer. Things have been going fairly well so far, although I’m starting to feel more of the cumulative effects of chemo. This past week was somewhat of a milestone for me – I’m officially halfway through my treatments! Within the next few weeks I’m scheduled for a PET scan where they will be able to tell just how much my tumor has shrunk. Our fingers are crossed for some good news!
Aside from the actual treatments themselves, I can tell you this – in the days of post-recovery after chemo, you get a lot of time to think and reflect on what’s going on.
I’ve determined that having cancer is like being a part of a club or group you were never asked to join and didn’t really want to ever be a part of. But now you are, and that’s just what you have to deal with.
In some ways that’s not all bad. Like brothers of war, I’m finding it amazing how complete strangers are willing to instantly bond with you over this ordeal. Usually this is because they had a personal experience with it themselves (either personally or with someone they cared about).
For other people it’s as if you’re wearing the Scarlet Letter, and you can tell that your very presence makes them uneasy. Strangers and even people you know will physically see that you look different with your bald head, and will seem to avoid you at all costs.
One notable story I can share is when I recently ran into a former colleague of mine. We hadn’t talked in a few months, and when he first saw me he noticed my appearance was different. He asked me how everything was going and I quickly filled him in on the fact that was undergoing chemotherapy treatments. Almost instantly I could tell he became squeamish, and so he cut the conversation very short and bolted as quickly as he could to re-join the group of people he was with.
I didn’t really understand what was going on or why people were acting this way until I started reading this book about cancer called “From This Moment On” by Arlene Cotter. To paraphrase one of the pages from the text:
When people see you with cancer, it may make them uneasy because it reminds them of their own mortality. It reminds them that they are going to die someday.
That makes perfect sense. I’m sure no one really ever questions their mortality. No one wakes up thinking today is the day I’m going to be hit by a car or the victim of some horrible disease. Of course not! We push those kinds of thoughts aside and focus on the things that are right there in front of us.
That is … until someone with that horrible disease IS right there in front of us. Then you’ve got a walking, talking reminder that these kinds of things aren’t nearly as far-fetched as you thought.
For some people I can see how this situation would make them question their sense of power and control. And they don’t like that. These kinds of people need to feel like they are on top and invincible. They don’t like to be reminded they too are made of glass and could be broken just as easily at any time.
Now if you think I’m picking on anyone, here’s the ironic part – I’m probably the person who’s the most guilty of all of this behavior.
I surprised myself when I read that passage from the book because throughout this whole experience I think THAT WAS the first time I had ever considered the possibility that I COULD die.
It’s funny how even though you’re living through these experiences they still don’t seem to sink in. The first night I was in the hospital when we had discovered the tumor, it took me several days to accept that the tumor REALLY WAS cancer.
As I began chemo, it took me several treatments to actually accept that my body would weaken, that my energy would decrease, and that the next 6 months would be “a fight”.
Now I was considering horrible outcomes I had never previously even thought:
- What if the tumor doesn’t shrink?
- What if, unbeknownst to me, it spreads to more places throughout my body?
- What if I end up needing even MORE chemo?
- What if the treatments aren’t working?
- What if the next few months are all I have left to look forward to?
Now don’t get too excited. This is just me thinking out-loud. The reality of all this is my prognosis looks very, very good! People with Hodgkin’s lymphoma have a survival rate of 90 to 95%.
But even still … cancer is cancer. Cancer is scary. It can lie dormant for years and then suddenly sprout up one day during some routine checkup. There doesn’t have to necessarily be any warning signs or triggers to activate it. It just does. It just happens.
Questioning your own mortality really puts things within your life into an interesting line-up. You don’t really think about all the “stuff” you never had. “Stuff” suddenly has no meaning.
All those small fights you have with your spouse suddenly seem silly. All the excuses you use to ignore your kids seem totally unfounded. All the politics and drama at work becomes just plain stupid.
Good prognosis or not, you quickly realize your one and only priority was time and what you choose to do with it. Losing three to five days to chemo recovery really makes you cherish the 9 to 11 other days you actually feel half-way good and energized. More than ever that just really makes you want to go out and do things that actually matter.
Those things don’t even have to be all that huge. No sky-diving or Safari trips through Africa. Things as simple as enjoying an evening talking with my wife or a trip to the movies with my kids suddenly seem more important than ever. The actual activity is not as important as the fact that I’m just being with them, and we’re enjoying each other’s company.
I didn’t sign-up to be the face of death for some people, and I refuse to play that part. So lately when I’m out in public I’ve been playing this little game. The way it works is simple: I’ll just randomly give someone a warm smile. NOT a creepy, stalker, call-the-cops smile – just a quick, friendly one. Enough to let them know I see them. This can be to an old woman, a child, or even another adult.
In our age where everyone seems to walk around with their face glued to an iPhone screen and ear-buds in their ears to shut every one out, I think we could all use a free smile here and there. And when you see it come from my face, you’ll know that I am not what death looks like. I’m what perseverance can be.
Featured image courtesy of JakeMcMillan | WordPress
Financial Forager says
I am glad to hear the treatments are going well. My sister is a cancer survivor. She has told me stories of people you describe in your article. She also realized what is important in life. Keep up the fight and thanks for the update. 🙂
MMD says
Thanks FF, and I’m glad to hear about the positive outcome with your sister. I can definitely say I’m learning very quickly first-hand what’s important and what’s not in Life.
Holly@ClubThrifty says
Hey, my money is on you! A survival rate of 90-95% plus your positive attitude is enough to get you through. Sorry you are going through this.
MMD says
Thanks Holly! I will say that the 90/95% survival rate is extremely reassuring.
ARB says
I can only admire your positive attitude and am glad to hear that your form of cancer has such a high survival rate. That’s reason enough to push it out of your mind and not let the fear consume you. Sorry that some people have been reacting negatively as a result.
Of course, I’m going to be the A-hole who plays the role of the Grammar Nazi on a post about cancer and the realization that one’s life could come to an end at any time, but I believe you meant to write that seeing someone with cancer reminds people of their own “mortality”, not “morality”.
Continue to push forward, in spite of the effects of chemo, the people that don’t want to face you, and the online Grammar Nazis.
Sincerely,
ARB–Angry Retail Banker
MMD says
No offense taken. That’s what I get for writing a post while on chemo meds and not proofreading it like I should have!
Kristin says
I am so glad you are doing better and sharing this. Sounds like you’re kicking butt. I think about death more often that I should now – primarily because in January I had heart failure.. I’ve always been pretty healthy, so when that happened and I ended up a bit comatose for a few days, it changed my outlook on life. It took a month or so to recover (obvi nothing like what you are experiencing) and I’m not 100%, but it puts everything into perspective. It was really amazing how everything in life stopped and my health, which I took for granted, became my #1 priority.
ARB says
I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to unconscious for days like that. Glad to see you’ve bounced back.
Sincerely,
ARB–Angry Retail Banker
MMD says
I’m sorry to hear you had to go through such a thing – problems with your heart are nothing to mess around with! If there is any silver lining to all of these medical issues its a new-found appreciation for what we do in our lives and the realization of what our priorities really are.
Kim says
Glad you are half way done and keeping a positive attitude. I have no idea how I’d want to be talked to if I had cancer, but I try to just talk to people like I normally would and ask how they are doing and then listen if they want to elaborate or move on to another topic if they don’t. I’m sure it’s strange from both standpoints.
MMD says
It’s a funny thing because people always assume that’s the thing we should talk about. And why not – it’s the 10,000 elephant in the room. But truthfully there are many days when I’d much rather talk about anything else: work, things I’m doing, funny movies I saw recently. Despite how I may look and feel I’d actually just prefer to be as normal as possible.
Bob Wagener says
We’ve been keeping up with your journey, and you and your family are often in our thoughts. It really does make you think, I remember when I first heard of this from Michelle. My first thoughts were for you and your awesome family, but being older than you, It really was a shock to me. Why him? He’s so young and has everything going so well. I’m thrilled to hear things are progressing well, keep up the great attitude my friend !! God bless !
MMD says
Thanks a ton Bob for all the love and support! Hopefully we’ll see you all again at soccer really soon.
Tonya@Budget and the Beach says
“And when you see it come from my face, you’ll know that I am not what death looks like. I’m what perseverance can be.” I love this! That is all! I think we can all benefit from looking up from our phones and smiling at one another, because whether it’s cancer, depression, money problems, job loss…everyone is going through something! Thinking about you!
MMD says
Thanks Tonya! That was one of my favorite parts to write.
Jayson @ Monster Piggy Bank says
MMD, keep strong. I know God would answer all our prayers. Good to know that everything has been so good so far. Just keep positive all the time because we know that feeling positive about ourselves can improve our health, relationship, and everything else.
MMD says
Thanks Jayson. I will keep it up as long as I can.
Tre says
Thanks you for sharing this. I have to admit I would probably be one of those who tries to get away as quickly as possible.
MMD says
I don’t think there’s any shame in admitting that. To thyself be honest. I realize now more than ever that everyone processes this whole cancer thing in different ways. However just know that if this ever happens to someone you know there are plenty of ways you can show your love and support without having to feel awkward or weird about it.
Abigail @ipickuppennies says
Yep, this society doesn’t know how to deal with illness. We uncomfortable with our own mortality, so we quickly make the sick person the “other.” Not just in distancing ourselves physically but also verbally.
I got very sick when I was 19. Briefly paralyzed, three months on life support, all sorts of fun stuff. And so very many people were quick to tell me that I was so strong, and they could never be as strong as me. In other words, they were mentally protecting themselves from the possibility. As if they couldn’t have some random, awful thing befall them if only they knew they couldn’t handle it.
It’s not that they did this maliciously, but man it got exhausting. Sometimes I’d point out that I literally had no choice. I was friggin’ paralyzed and couldn’t have stopped getting treatment if I had wanted. Also: denial. Like you, it took me awhile to figure out just how bad it was. When they first told me, I thought I”d be out for a week or two. Then in the ICU, I thought I’d be ready in time for the spring quarter — about two months away. Then I thought everything would go back to normal after the hospital… The brain takes things in stages, I’m afraid.
FYI, no to be a downer but… What I’ve heard from people who beat cancer is that they’re obviously thrilled, but the first year tends to suck. Too many people want “cured” folks to be rays of sunshine spouting nothing but optimism and gratitude. Meanwhile, many cancer patients’ immune systems are shot, plus they’re exhausted and at least slightly traumatized.
So just make sure to surround yourself with people who understand how scary it was, how much it took out of you and who don’t expect you to be happy all the time.
I’m not saying this to be pessimistic. I just wish someone would have warned me that even after I got out of the hospital for my thing, my fight was far from over. It would have saved me a lot of grief.
I’m glad that you’re already able to be so introspective and good-humored about people’s reactions. That’s a huge step in the right direction, in my opinion.
MMD says
That’s a great introspective. I do completely identify with you about that feeling of having “no choice”. A lot of people say things like you’re brave or stay strong. But honestly the whole experience feels like a giant tornado that I’m stuck in the middle of and couldn’t get out even if I wanted to.
I appreciate the reminder about after chemo is done. I keep thinking that after my last chemo that my hair will magically grow back and I’ll feel ready to run a marathon. But that’s just wishful thinking. I know that in reality it could months or even years (or perhaps never) that I return to 100% of what I was.
About the only way I see to combat this is learn new skills and habits that I didn’t have before. If I can’t be exactly who I was before, perhaps I can be a new and improved version.
Fervent Finance says
Glad you’re half way done with your treatments MMD! And it’s great that those odds are in your court. Us in the personal finance community love our numbers and I’d bet on 95% all day. Take care!
MMD says
If you told me that my retirement savings had a 95% chance of never running out, I’d take those odds as well!
EL @ Moneywatch101 says
Congrats on understanding how illness affect other people and how you now are a better person for it. I did read that line and think wow people really can be rude in many situations. IF someone confides in you something that personal, I cant understand why you wouldn’t be empathic. Good luck and your half way done towards beating it..
MMD says
In fairness that person I talked about in this story did come back to me the next day and apologized. However there was no need. I completely understand how awkward I must have made him feel. Everyone handles bad news in their own unique way I guess.
Prudence Debtfree says
I find myself feeling sorry for your former colleague who walked away so quickly. He must feel very ashamed for the way he bolted. Or worse, he’s rationalized it. Or is in denial of it. There are cultures in which sickness and mortality are not taboo subjects. We could stand to learn from them. It strikes me that you and your family are receiving blessings from this hardship. Not least of all, a new recognition of how precious time is, and a clearer sense of how to use it effectively. You have used your periods of recovery to tap into some deep life lessons. Thank you for sharing them.
MMD says
I am very much beginning to appreciate a new set of priorities. That’s been the silver lining to this whole experience.
Marjie says
Stay true to yourself and always positive! You’re doing great. I’ll keep you in my prayers. Having a positive attitude really makes a big difference and don’t let anyone keep you down.. Keep us updated.
MMD says
Thanks Marjie!
Jacob says
So much truth in this article about the important things in life. I need to set up a reminder each day to cherish the little things. “Stuff” has never meant much to me, but it’s still so easy to overlook the little moments in life and forget that each day is a gift.
Keep up the good fight.
MMD says
Thanks Jacob!
diane @smartmoneysimplelife says
I know it’s a little while since you posted this update but thought I’d drop by with a little, “how are you?” comment.
Cancer and mortality are very much in my thoughts at the moment as my ex-husband is in the grip of stage 4 melanoma with secondaries in his brain, lungs and liver.
After discovering his diagnosis, the status of my own health did a rapid climb up the priority list, I can tell you that! It seems the adage is true, good health really is the most important possession we have.
I hope you’re doing well. Sending lots of bright shiny smiles your way.
MMD says
Thanks for thinking about me and asking! I actually plan to do an update post this coming Saturday. Good news all around – all free and clear!!!