Cancer, Escapism, and Starting Over

The grim and humbling realities of the past 15 months have significantly changed my life forever. It has taken me this long after my initial cancer diagnosis to even begin to fully reflect on what has transpired. Putting into words the often jolting feelings of sadness, anxiety, and expectations of my daily life, as I knew it, has been difficult till now. My life has been twisted and ultimately veered of course forever. It has been quite the humbling experience. There’s no doubt I’ll continue to stay off my previous course of travel and the rougher terrain will be my home for some time to come. But, in all of my new, unfortunate series of daily realities, I have found some solace and a deeper appreciation for certain things I always looked past or ignored in my “previous life.”

This photo, which has stuck with me for years, graced the cover of “One” released by U2 in March 1992. I have thought about this photo a lot since my diagnosis of stage IV melanoma in October 2017. Much like the photo implies, I’ve had the feeling of being pushed into the unknown — over a physical and mental cliff. I cannot control my path and I’ll never understand the forces behind what brought me here.

My initial cancer diagnosis, after receiving a chest to pelvis MRI for recurring stomach pain in early October 2017, was physically and mentally devastating. I’ve read experiences from other, newly diagnosed cancer patients having similar initial reactions as mine. I can personally only describe it as a physical numbness that succumbs your extremities, leaving them tingling and numb along with an out-of-mind type experience that literally feels like your brain is being shut down one part at a time to simply focus on survival. Even though I’ve never experienced it, I would compare it to being neck deep in frigid water, where your body starts shutting down the blood supply to extremities and parts of your brain to keep the rest of your body alive. Maybe this is what it feels like when being put in a desperate fight or flight situation. It’s a daunting feeling and I hope I never have to experience it again in my lifetime.

My body, mind, and spirit has put up one hell of a fight since my first immunotherapy treatment just over 15 months ago. My cancer journey, and a re-ignition of sorts of my spirit and mind, started at a very dismal point — ground zero so to speak. Since then, I’ve somehow managed to build back some semblance of a life… a life I very much feel is worth living and loving. The toll cancer and subsequent treatments can take on your mind and body can be a very difficult war of attrition. Learning to constantly pick yourself up, push through the fatigue and treatments, and allowing your mind to move past all the “what ifs” is something you have to power through. It’s the only way to get your mind somewhat straight again and focused on what has to be done.

Escapism is a good word to sum up how I’ve traversed through the past 15 or so months. I’ve escaped into myself, into some very deep feelings of despair and mental anguish trying to make sense of it all. I’ve tried making sense of my new life. But you cannot make sense of cancer and where it leaves you. You can only try to pick up the pieces and make those pieces the building blocks of your new life. It’s time to start over. I’ve been given the chance to try new things and begin again. I can’t take what I’ve now been given for granted.

I hesitate to think of where I’d be without a lot of love, encouragement, and prayers from so many people. Everyone from family, friends, friends of friends, prayers from complete strangers and churches have been such a huge part of my healing. All of the prepared meals, contributions and GoFundMe donations, and just people randomly reaching out to check on me and my family has helped us through this journey. My oncology family and those who care for me during my infusions and appointments are like extended family. Each person in my life now has had an integral part in my healing and has brought so much into perspective. The compassion, help, and love has amazed and humbled me beyond words.

I’m just getting to the point where I can begin to put into words some of the feelings I’ve had or experiences I’ve gone through. I’m sure that some of what I’ll be adding to this blog will be simple ramblings and non-fluid thoughts. But I think that’s OK. I think just the idea of jotting down of my thoughts, feelings, and even posting some of my findings on melanoma research or immunotherapy may be, in some ways, of help to others going through the same or similar things I’ve made it through to date.

I may have been pushed into the unknown. But I’m certain I’ll come out on the other side a lot stronger and wiser for the years I have left.