40-something %

For the first time since we began the blog, it will be me, and not Lisa, writing.

This post is a culmination of what has been floating in my head since my diagnosis. I finally put it down on paper while I was recuperating from my gastrectomy. My hope is that other people fighting cancer may gain insight and perspective from someone dealing with a similar prognosis.

Being able to mentally cope with the 40-something % cure rate that came with my diagnosis has definitely been a work in progress. Fortunately, the bulk of the groundwork was laid out beforehand.

As it happened, the prognosis itself was doled out in stages. The original diagnosis delivered by Dr. Amherst Surgeon way back in February was an ulcer. It wasn’t until mid-May, once my symptoms had reappeared with a vengeance, had the thought of cancer been introduced, and confirmed the next day by a CT scan.

When the news was initially delivered by Dr. Amherst Surgeon, the outlook wasn’t even that bleak. According to him, the tumour was about the size of a small ball and the plan was roughly the same as that for the ulcer – surgery to remove the part of the stomach that was affected by the tumour. Chemo was mentioned as a possibility but not a certainty. There was no mention of any cure rate at this point.

In retrospect, it was probably a good thing that it unfolded this way since it gave us a week for the thought of cancer to sink in without having to deal with the bleak outlook that came with it. It wasn’t until the week after, when we met with Dr. Halifax Surgeon, that the full reality of our situation hit us in the face like a wet tuna.

I remember going to eat at one of our favourite chinese restaurants in Halifax immediately after our appointment and being completely stunned. The drive back to Amherst that sunny afternoon did little to curb our shock.

That evening was spent calling immediate family members, delivering the information like a news channel that has the same headline on a 30 minute loop. It definitely facilitated the process of letting the news sink in, but not in dealing with it. It wasn’t until later on that evening, settling into our nightly routine of snuggling next to each other on the couch to watch TV, that we were forced to talk about it or go crazy.

I thank God that I have Lisa for a wife, such an intelligent and rational person. The perfect person to have this intense conversation with. We are both naturally positive people, and that’s what we decided to focus on. We didn’t run away or avoid the prognosis, but from the onset, we focused on the positives. The fact that I am young, the fact that I am strong, and the fact that it looked like that we had caught this just in time. The first thing, and I think the most important thing that we realized is that there is so much of this process that is out of our control. The disease itself, the treatment, the way I will react to the treatment, and beyond everything else, whether I will survive or not. Instead of focusing on all of those things, which would’ve been an easy mindset to slip into, we decided to focus on the one thing we could control, our attitude and how we are going to face this.

The more I thought about this approach, the more it seemed to click with who I am as a person. I am a positive person. I do focus on the goodness in people and in life. I made the conscious decision that evening to ensure that no matter what the future holds for us, no matter what the final outcome will be, I will not let this change me as a person. And above all else, I wll not let it change the way I live my life.

I also realized that evening that I couldn’t hide from this, I needed to face this head on. This was done consciously and subconsciously. As soon as we started watching TV, my mind started drifting off. An inner voice began repeating ‘You have cancer…’. Although it was a frightening and sobering experience, from the beginning, my mind made certain that I couldn’t hide from my reality. Another frightening thought that was repeated in my mind was ‘You might die’. However, once this was lumped into the category of things that we can’t control, it gave me the freedom to face it head on while focussing my attention on what I can control.

Another liberating experience is when I tried to mesh my situation with my spiritual outlook. I am not a religious person, but I am spiritual. I don’t know what lies beyond this world, but I haven’t ruled out the possibility of some type of afterlife, whatever it may be. What I do know is that I don’t believe in a pre-determined fate. This outlook has gone a long way in helping me focus on the positive and not to dwell on the ‘WHY’. I think that dwelling on the ‘why me?’ could drive a person crazy and it would be the absolute wrong place to focus my energy.

Additionally, as Bill Bryson so eloquently mentioned in his book ‘A Brief History of Nearly Everything’, cancer, at the cellular level is nothing more than a few cells going rogue. Instead of following their natural path of dividing to heal and regenerate, cancer occurs when a few cells simply begin to divide at their own rate to form something foreign in your body, a tumour. When I think of cancer at this simplistic, cellular level, I realize how truly out of my control this is. It goes a long way in helping me to let go of any resentment, to let go of the blame game.

Another thing that has helped me cope with my prognosis is the knowledge that for the most part, I have lived my life thus far by my own terms. For the most part, I think that I treat people right. For the most part, I’ve lived my life based on what I think is right and not based on what other people think. I have to give a huge shout out to both of my parents and my brother Brian at this point for raising me this way and for living their lives this way. For the most part, I’ve experienced and done most things I’ve wanted to do and with the people I’ve wanted to do it with. Throughout my life, I’ve navigated towards people with a similar outlook on life. Of course I have regrets. I have some HUGE regrets that I won’t get into here. I’m human, and having regrets is part of being human. All I can do is learn from these and hopefully move forward as a better person.

Speaking of friends, it goes without question that there’s no way I’d be able to cope without the love and support from my incredible family and friends. The phone calls, the emails, the conversations, the laughter, the tears, the benefits, and the endless feeling of being surrounded by positive thoughts and vibes, has made cancer such a positive and overwhelming experience.

And above all, above everything else, the one single thing that has helped me cope is the constant and endless support and love from my wife Lisa. From day one, she has been my rock. She has been there to talk it through. She has been there to distract me as we continue to enjoy life. She has been there for every doctor’s appointment, every chemo appointment, every blood transfusion, every hydration appointment, every morning while I was at the hospital straight through to every night to tuck me in before she would leave. And it is the most comforting feeling in the world to know that she will continue to be there every step of the way no matter what lies ahead. Her strength and love for me has done more than she will ever know to carry me through and I will spend the rest of my life trying to make sure that she knows exactly how much I appreciate her.

The biggest reason that I have been able to cope with this is that I came to the realization early on about how lucky I am. I hope and truly believe that I will be able to share this love with Lisa for the next 50 years. But even if not, there’s a deep comfort in realizing that I was fortunate enough to experience a love for 15 years that some people don’t get to experience in an entire lifetime.

It looks like I am focussing on the dying here and that I may be ready to die. Absolutely not! Especially with how fortunate I’ve been with my reaction to treatment and the surgery thus far. What I am focussed on is the fact that I am at peace no matter what happens and that is how I am able to cope with a 40-something% cure rate. Having been able to cope with the reality of my situation enables me to live my life in the moment. It allows me to live exactly how I’ve lived my entire life and there’s nothing more liberating than that.