From anger to hope

Last week my friend Laura wrote to me with her usual kind words of encouragement and said “I'm not sure I wouldn't be just plain angry if I were in your shoes”. It was quite the coincidence because I feel like I have now finally reached the “angry” stage in a big way, perhaps some sort of delayed reaction which I can’t explain. Now, by some miracle, anger has amazingly turned into hope.

I must say that I'm finding the whole cancer thing to be quite . . . interesting. Does that sound like an odd thing to say? I’ve been totally immersed in reading positive stories about stage 4 cancer survivors and alternative cancer therapies that have helped many people. Of course, you need to be careful because of all the false information out there, particularly on the internet, but I’ve recently been inspired by a good many authors, doctors, and cancer survivors which I feel are credible. The amount of information available to us today can sometimes be overwhelming and conflicting, and it’s a real challenge to filter out the good and the bad and know what's right and what makes sense for you.

I'm doing my best to stay positive and try to counter the effects off my current meds by walking and/or cycling every day, drinking lots of water, and changing my diet and eating healthier - thanks in large part to my in-house dietary consultant, Kathryn. I’ve been tracking all my daily ToDo list items with a handy “Habits” app on my smart phone. Things had been going very well and I’ve been feeling good, but then . . .

Last week I got a bit of a surprise. My urologist who has been treating my cancer over the past few months with a hormone-based treatment recommended I see an oncologist at the Grand River Cancer Centre. Kat and I had initially understood that the reason for this visit was just to have an oncologist lined up and connected with when the time comes. We already knew that the current treatment only works for a limited time (ie: 1 to 3 years) and once it stops working, Plan B (likely chemo) would be put in place.

I was shocked to hear the oncologist recommend that I start chemotherapy right away. She based it on a study that was recently conducted in which doing “up front” chemo at this early stage of hormone-based treatment showed that patients lived on average of about 14 months longer.

I didn't really have a lot of time to think or research it, and the oncologist was very adamant that we get things started and told me I could change my mind if I chose to. When I left the Grand River Cancer Centre, I found a parking ticket on my dash for parking in the wrong spot. I got into the car and screamed so loud and for so long that any potential witnesses would surely think I was a crazy person. It was hard on my throat - painful! I don’t think I’ve ever screamed and yelled like that before, and it had very little to do with the parking ticket (or perhaps that just put me over the edge). I had officially arrived at the “angry” stage. You see Laura, I’m just like you, perhaps just a bit slow . . .

Kat and I have been doing research and speaking with people and decided to go ahead with the chemo. I was told it was a type of chemo that did not have as bad side effects as some of the others, and would be administered in addition to my current hormone-based cancer treatment (as with the research study group). I'm scheduled to begin my chemotherapy next Thursday, April 20.

Over the past month or so, there have been so many amazing authors and cancer survivors who have given me something extremely valuable at this time: hope. Sad to day, and this is not necessarily a criticism, but after meetings with doctors and oncologists, I am all too often left with very little hope (ie: what I have is not curable). I’m reading about things that can be done safely (ie: eating healthier) in parallel to the traditional drug-based treatments, and feel that some of these make sense and are at least worth looking into and giving a chance.

The most important thing right now is that “I believe”. I believe that I can get better and win this fight. I HAVE TO get better for the sake of my family. My kids are too young, and I’m not ready to just give in and accept a death sentence as was delivered to me in early December of last year. For many months I have been thinking about life purpose and what I should be doing and it has suddenly become quite apparent to me that I need to spend every waking hour taking care of myself, being healthy, learning, doing research, speaking with people, and working and dedicating myself to anything and everything that I believe might help me to get better. This, combined with spending lots of time with my family, is what I need to do.

OK - I realize that there is a chance that I am wrong and the opinion of the doctors and overall statistics are right, and I will not win this fight. In his book “Anticancer”, Dr. David Servan-Shreiber (M.D., Ph.D) talks about his own battle with cancer and how he applied non-traditional and complementary approaches to its approaches and treatment. He is now in his 15th year cancer free, and although he believes in and writes about the many alternative approaches that he feels helped him conquer his terminal cancer, he also admittedly writes:

“I’ve lost some friends since this book was first published. Some of them were people who applied its principles in their own lives. Unfortunately, the methods and principles outlined here do not guarantee success against cancer”.

I was playing hockey with my daughter Anika here at the cottage yesterday and we were working on passes to the front of the net (one-timers), and shooting as if you “know” that you will hit that puck and put it in the net - in other words, swing at the pass with the confidence that you WILL succeed. This attitude helped me score a few goals in my time (as a few of my hockey buddies might attest to), and I believe this concept to be the same in a cancer battle.

I appreciate very much all of your thoughts and prayers. You must believe otherwise you simply will not win. If you believe, then you will at the very least give yourself a better chance to win. All I'm asking for is a chance . . .

I believe.

Reading in the car can be a challenge.
(Kat's been doing most of the driving lately)