September 13th, 2015

Cancer sucks. It changed my life completely, and has opened my eyes to what true suffering is. And I consider myself very lucky, and only very rarely during my treatment have I really suffered. I’ve realized just how much more I could suffer, just how much worse, more painful, more difficult, and, most powerfully, how much more hopeless life could be. There are plenty of people with far more trying and painful medical conditions than mine. But there certainly have been times, namely when my pain meds have been switched or reduced too quickly, when I have felt it would be better to die than continue on in such a state. Never for more than an hour or two, but still. How anyone survives withdrawal from hard drugs is beyond me. Coming off hydromorphone too swiftly is more than I care to endure. Surgery recovery, severe intestinal cramping from medications, shingles, and a whole host of other crummy conditions resulting from cancer and/or my treatments have really helped me appreciate the times when I’m not in pain.

If you did not know, this time last year I was working as a teaching assistant, helping students who needed a little extra attention to excel in school. It was an incredibly rewarding job, and for one short month I thoroughly enjoyed work and the difference I was making in the lives of students with whom I worked. I also had the privilege of working at a ski area just fifteen minutes from our townhouse, and my wife and I made good use of the free skiing and snowboarding perks of that job. My wife found her niche at a continuing care center, working as an activities associate, helping plan and run programs for residents with early-stage dementia. We loved where we lived, and were starting to put down roots. Then cancer happened.

We quit our jobs and moved out of our townhouse when the cancer diagnosis made it clear we would be spending a lot of time in New York City. Saying goodbye to my crying students was, needless to say, far from easy, and Christina still misses the wonderful people she worked with, and exchanges letters with some of the residents still. Our plans for the future were scrapped, and our present was thrown into chaos and uncertainty.

The first couple months of treatment were nightmarish. The hospital system, Ronald McDonald House, and NYC were all unfamiliar to us. My anti-nausea meds we far from effective, and complications like C Diff even put treatment on hold for a bit. Dehydration made my kidney stent installation…I’m really not sure how to describe it. Fire and stinging and all manner of hellish misery came with that procedure, making me want to stop my liquid intake (to stop my output), which increased my dehydration, which increased the aforementioned fire, stinging, and all manner of hellish misery. I never enjoy the first time I try moving after major abdominal surgery, nor do I like having my mediport accessed, nor the weird pressure I feel in my left shoulder when I eat too much, thanks to my spleen removal and some silly connection between spleens and nerves in the left shoulder. I could go on. The point is, cancer has changed my life utterly, and I won’t pretend for a moment that it hasn’t been awful.

But as I alluded to last week, cancer does not merely bring pain and suffering, heartbreak and stress, and far too often death. Yes, cancer is horrible. Way too many children have very little hope to reach their next birthday thanks to cancer, and I grieve for them and their families. I have plenty of reason to hate it, and I certainly do. I would be remiss though if I did not stop to reflect upon all the ways I have been blessed through my experiences of the past year.

This last year has also given me time to see interesting things and have fun. I’ve written about a lot of the things I’ve gotten to do in NYC already, so I’ll make this next bit brief. Since I’ve had plenty of free time, I’ve been able to discover the wonderful (and time-sucking) world of minecraft. Alright, maybe that’s a bad example. Here are some real ones. I was able to finish writing a trilogy, a goal of mine for many years. Central park and numerous museums made—and still make—for some great outings. Sports events, the Bronx Zoo, and Broadway plays have all provided much-needed diversions from the routine of hospitals and treatments. I’ve been fortunate to have a good bit of time when I’m feeling well enough to make the most of being in New York City. Sights have been seen, and a diverse array of food has been eaten. But cancer has blessed my life in more profound ways than just fun activities and amusing pastimes.

I have grown closer to my wife, whose unfailing support, love, and care has made it worth keeping going on the really rough days. My parents have gone above and beyond, researching which hospital I should go to for treatment, yelling at the appropriate people to get my biopsy sent to the right hospital, making sure I have health insurance, and most impressively, finding that tricky balance between caring for their child and letting me be an adult and live as normal a life as possible. Their support has been such a blessing to me. I have been fortunate to have wonderful siblings as well, who have made the effort to spend as much time with me as possible and help in any way they can, and I’m better friends with all of them than ever before. The hours of board games we have played this past year haven’t been bad either. My in-laws have outdone themselves with their generous support and encouragement. They have visited us when they could, and sent cards and a sweet remote-control helicopter when they couldn't.  Beyond my immediate family, I have experienced a great deal of generosity from people I’ve known all my life and people I have never met. Care packages, cards, visits, giftcards, thoughts, and prayers are just some of the ways we have felt love and support from so many. I've made new friends and gotten back in touch with some from long ago. This last year has been a wonderful reminder of what it means to be rich in relationships.

To say it has been the best of years and the worst of years might be cliché, but it is true. There have been times, however brief, when I was ready to quit. There have been times, far more often than not, when I’d do anything to keep going. Sometimes I really hate cancer, and sometimes I really love what it has done for me. Sometimes both at once. I certainly owe cancer for my deeper appreciation of life and time spent with loved ones. Did I need cancer to learn these lessons? Is that why I got it? No, certainly not (I’ll talk about that next week). But has my experience with cancer helped me mature, and have a better perspective on life, a better understanding of God, and better relationships with the people I most care about? Yes. And for those reasons, I am thankful I got cancer. Even though I wish I never had.