My First Cancerversary

A year ago today, I was diagnosed with cancer. I remember that day so vividly. Yet it simultaneously was such a blur. It feels like I’ve had this disease forever and it also feels like I was diagnosed just yesterday. Time is a fickle friend.

My doctor called the morning of March 8th 2018 and told me that he wanted to admit me to the hospital, just to run some tests. I left work in tears and listened to Drake’s song, God’s Plan, on repeat on my drive home. It seemed fitting. My mom and I arrived at the hospital and were directed to a room on the 6th floor of Jersey Shore Hospital.

I made small talk with the nurse who brought us to the room. We chatted sports, mostly Giants football. As we were settling in he got a call to go to another room and said “I can’t I’m with a leukemia patient right now”. When he got off the phone I said “I don’t have leukemia, I’m just here to get some tests done”, he just smiled and patted my arm before walking out the door.

When the nurses were setting up a port in my arm I realized that we were on the cancer floor, because one of the nurses was wearing a sweatshirt that said “Oncology” on it. After that, I was taken down for a CT scan on my abdomen. This was the first time I had been transported in a hospital. I told them I was okay to walk, but they were not having it. I laid in bed while someone pushed me all the way to the imaging center. I hated being in that bed cause that meant I was sick.

We got back to the room and waited for what felt like hours. I wasn’t sure at that point how long I would be there for. I didn’t want to turn the TV on because that would mean admitting that I would be there for a while. So my Mom and I just sat there and chatted, looking out the window.

My Mom’s phone started ringing, it was my Dad and she got up and left the room. Not a good sign. She came back in with tears in her eyes. Oh shit, really not a good sign. My doctor had called my Dad and told him what they believed was going on. You definitely have some sort of leukemia and they think it’s what’s called Chronic Myeloid Leukemia. Straight denial, no I don’t.

Shortly after that, my now primary oncologist walked through the door. I heard about 10% of what he said. He was tossing around words like like stem cells, myeloproliferative, neoplasms, blast cells, granulocytes and uric acid. But I understood enough of what he said to know that I had been diagnosed with cancer.

I still didn’t believe it was true. And sometimes now it still seems false. I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t change a thing. It’s been the hardest year of my life by far. With each day presenting new challenges. This disease has shaped and sharpened me, it’s broken me down, it’s shown me who I am really am. I’m in no way out of the woods yet with this disease, but it feels good to say I’ve made it this far. CML has given me a new appreciation and understanding for my life and for that I’m grateful.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention all the help I’ve received along the way.

Thank you to my Mom for going through this process step-by-step with me. Thank you for going to my doctor’s appointments with me. Thank you for feeding me even though I don’t live at home anymore. Thank you for giving me the space to cope with this on my own.

Thank you to my Dad for being such a steady presence in my life. Thank you for allowing me to make my own work schedule. Thank you for being so flexible and understanding when I can’t make it to work. Thank you for not pressuring me to produce more. Thank you for always being there for me when I need to have those difficult conversations.

Thank you to my brother, Brendan, for picking up so much of my slack at work. Thank you for always listening with an open mind when I vent to you. Thank you for always talking about our writing together. Thank you for setting such a good example for me.

Thank you to my other brother, Tim, for staying in all of these nights to do nothing with me. Thank you for picking up my slack at work. Thank you for making me laugh all the time. Thank you for not getting frustrated when I’m in a bad mood.

Thank you to my good friend, Brian, for stepping up as my friend in a time of need. Thank you for having our deep conversations. Thank you for consistently making an effort to hang out.

Thank you to all my other friends who have supported me through this difficult time. Thank you for understanding when I can’t make it to something. Thank you for understanding that I’m not who I used to be and thank you for accepting me for who I am now. Thank you for coming to hang and doing nothing with me when I know there are much more exciting things going on. Thank you for all your texts to check in on me.

Thank you to all my doctors, nurses and the administrative workers at those doctors offices. I owe you my life.

Thank you to the doctors who discovered the drug, Imatinib, which is currently saving my life each and everyday.

Thank you to my therapist who makes me feel less crazy on a weekly basis and provides me with much needed guidance.

Thank you to my friends on #FinTwit who have showed me much compassion and supported not only myself but the rest of my family. Who knew that strangers you meet on the internet could become such a strong support group?

And finally thank you to anyone who is reading this.

I’m a lucky man to have such a strong support group. Your support, encouragement and love means so much to me and often keeps me going!

To wrap up this celebratory piece, I have one final person I’d like to thank. I write about my struggles a lot and constantly put my faults under the microscope. We have a tendency towards negativity. Always acknowledging our flaws rather than our strengths. So my final thank you goes out to myself. It’s not meant to be pompous or self-aggrandizing. Rather it is meant to provide balance  and self-affirmation.

Dear Me,

What a year it’s been. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. But here you are.

Thank you for following your treatment plan exactly as it’s outlined. I know it’s hard to take that pill sometimes when you’re feeling sick. I appreciate you looking out for me in the long term by not avoiding the pain today. Thank you for eating so healthy most of the time. I know some days all you want to do is eat ice cream and nachos. Thank you for all the sleep you’ve gotten. And man, has it been a lot. Thank you for listening to your body and not trying to tough it out.

Thank you for reading all these books to help you deal with your diagnosis. And thank you for reading the books that help you not think about your diagnosis. Thank you for exercising when you can. Thank you for being in such good shape before you got diagnosed. That has only helped your body through treatment.  Thank you for putting your pride aside and accepting help when it is offered to you. Thank you for writing in your journal each day about what’s been going on. Thank you for sharing your journey online in your blog posts. It’s not easy being an open book sometimes but through healing yourself you are healing others as well.

Thank you for taking up meditation. Thank you for accepting your limitations, as hard as it is sometimes. Thank you for not resisting cancer anymore. It is a part of you and will always be a part of you, there is no denying that. Thank you for going to therapy. Talking through this difficult life situation has been invaluable. Thank you for consistently doing the right things for yourself. Even though you’ve missed out on a whole lot in the last year. Thank you for still going out socially once in a while. Those times with friends and family have become more meaningful.

Thank you for all the realizations that you’ve come to. Thank you for breaking down your conditioning of being such a strong self-critic. Thank you for be-friending yourself. Thank you for all the love you’ve given yourself. Thank you for being exactly as you are and knowing that you don’t have to change a single thing in order to be happy. And most importantly, thank you for still being here.