What's It Like Being Diagnosed with Cancer?

Last week Tom Brokaw appeared on the Dr. Oz show to talk about his cancer diagnosis. Because of prior commitments, I missed seeing it. I’m sure it was a very moving interview, as Brokaw is a master of words.

As a cancer survivor since 2010, and now once again fighting it, I decided to put to paper some of my thoughts about having cancer.

Cancer is an ugly word and an ugly disease. Not only does it destroy one’s body physically, it can also destroy a person emotionally, mentally, spiritually and their family as well. It can take away all hope and the desire to even live. Fighting cancer is totally exhausting. It depletes your energy. It tears into your plans for your life and your future. It demands your total attention, thus making it seem you are selfish, when in reality you are focusing on surviving.

Given the chance, it can turn you into a hypochondriac. Why is that spot on my leg hurting? How come I seem to have a problem swallowing? Do I have a fever? I don’t remember that freckle being so large. How come I’m having this headache all the time? It feels like I have a tender area near my spine.

When you are diagnosed with cancer you spend hours reading about your particular cancer and the treatments and medicines used to cure it. You find yourself researching everything you can and writing down questions to ask your doctors.

But once you have cancer, you always have cancer despite being told after grueling chemotherapy and radiation you are cancer free. It’s the same as saying a person is a recovering alcholic or drug addict. There is not such a thing. Once an alcoholic or being addicted to drugs, you always are. You’ve simply managed to fight your battle, and for a while have won. But it’s always there. Always poised to rear its monstrous head and attack you again.

It’s difficult to constantly smile and say, “I’m okay,” or “I’m doing good,” when asked by friends and family how you are. You do it because what else is there to say? You don’t tell anyone how you really are. That, if you are in remission, you are terrified the cancer will come back wearing a different face and launching a new way to devastate you. You don’t want to tell people about the fear you may be declared incurable and have to face everything that statement entails.

Then there’s the depression. It may last an hour. Or it may last days. Maybe even weeks. You can find yourself breaking out into tears for what may seem like nothing. Yet, at the time, it’s everything. In one part of you, you remember being told depression can be expected. In another part of you, you wonder if you truly are losing your mind. Or you feel that no one really cares about you, that their expressions of concern are in reality pity.

What keeps you moving forward is a determination you are not going to allow cancer to rule your life. Being told by countless people they are genuinely concerned about you and are thinking of you, praying for you. Having faith that you can get through this battle with a relentless enemy and win - even though that battle may turn into two fights or three or four or more. Pulling up a strength from the very depths of your being you didn’t know you had.

What’s it like being diagnosed with cancer? It’s giving the fight everything you have before it takes away everything you are.