The Return of Cancer

I have cancer again. To quote one of my doctors, “It’s not like last time when you had a lot of cancer, this is just a little bit.” One of my lymph nodes got some cancer on it. It’s stage 2. If you didn’t know, I had stage 3 testicular cancer almost four years ago. […]

I have cancer again. To quote one of my doctors, “It’s not like last time when you had a lot of cancer, this is just a little bit.” One of my lymph nodes got some cancer on it. It’s stage 2. If you didn’t know, I had stage 3 testicular cancer almost four years ago.

I am waiting for some tests to come back with the right biomarkers to accept a certain treatment. It would be a targeting treatment. It won’t have such bad side effects as chemo. It wouldn’t cost me as much physical drain, mental fog, or emotional void. If my body won’t accept that treatment, then I would be treated with a chemo therapy.

I am angry. I think this will happen every time I get scans, but it has been a trigger for some of the rage I feel towards my body and the point of all biology. To be born is to die. I have no choice but to accept my fate and see it through. My life isn’t in jeopardy. I don’t have a death sentence. It is just a minor medical inconvenience, but it has such a high price.

I have a hard time asking for help. I struggle with appearing weak. I was diagnosed two weeks ago, but I felt dumb posting on Facebook about it. I felt my attention spotlight was used up the last time I had cancer. I feel like I’ve already sucked dry the sympathy tit.

I also have a hard time accepting help or sympathy. I don’t feel deserving of it. It’s not like I asked for a disease. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel. I don’t know how to act. I don’t know how to listen to you as you make my cancer about your break up. I don’t know how to sue you for medical malpractice when you give me nonprofessional medical advice. I just don’t know how anyone is supposed to be when they are sick.

I retreat into myself. I stay in my head. I float around and think. That thinking starts to turn dark and stormy. I think myself into giving up. I think myself into isolation. I think myself into alienating myself from everyone I love.

It takes a lot out of a person to deal with doctors and nurses poking and prodding you. It is exhausting to wait while tests are conducted on body fluids that have been removed from you. It is a life suck to navigate the bureaucratic world of health insurance and hospitals. It’s lonely. Even when everyone loves and supports you, surrounds you, gives to you; it is still very lonely.

I’m going to be fine. It is just a hiccup in my life. It is just a challenge to overcome. It is just a lesson your God is letting me learn. It is just what bodies do. We get sick. We struggle with our bodies as we get older. I will get better. I won’t give up. This won’t be like last time. This will be much easier.

I have a great girlfriend who supports me and helps me stay on track. My family is beyond amazing. I have a great circle of friends near and far who stand with me. I have a terrific employer who cares about me. I couldn’t be any luckier.

I may feel lonely, but I’m not alone.

The worst case scenario is I’m going to die, but I’m going to do that anyway.

13 Comments

  1. Dave, we’ll be thinking of you as you go through whatever you have to do to get rid of this scourge!

  2. Love you tons. We are absolutely by your side as you “deal” with this. It is so difficult to learn cancer has returned, but you are right… you will get through this. Let us know how we can help you with this. Come see us at the beach soon
    Much love. Mom

  3. Fuck! Dave I’m sorry to hear that news. I’m glad you know how wonderful your family is and that you aren’t alone- and hope you reach out if it feels too lonely. You’re fuckin awesome and people love you.

  4. Well this sucks. I am such a fan of your writing. If it is anything I have learned from reading “Cancer is lonely.” My niece was just diagnosed and she lives far away from me. (Austin, Texas). I am hoping your support system loves the hell out of you and that, like you said, this is not your death time, but just a blimp on the road.

  5. You may not remember me but you helped me get sober. I am here for whatever you need, even if it’s to be mad.

  6. Your sharing, helps others more than you could possibly know. I doubt that offers much consolation, but my gratitude persists nevertheless. Wishing you the best of health.

  7. I’m sorry to hear you have to deal with this. And even in the middle of your loneliness and anger, you are most beautifully expressive. One foot in front of the other, my friend. I’m glad you have so much great support.

  8. I adore you brother.. your attention spotlight will never be used up. .ever. I am sorry I am so far away and such a crap friend..but know that I love you and am here for you always if you need me.

  9. Word! You got this bruh! Drop in the bucket compared to last time😄

  10. Dude, quit playing like your attention spotlight is used up. People love to give you attention. All I ever hear is “Fisher said this” and “Fisher said that” when it comes to your speaking and writing. People love you. Doesn’t make it less lonely when your curled up inside. But whenever you wanna come out and play, were here on the playground. I effing love you. And it’s a big deal, emotionally, to have a smidge of cancer again. That was a traumatic event in your life. Good on ya for putting it out there so that we know what’s up. Hug, T.

  11. Damn! Couldn’t of said that any better. Nicely written. Thanks for sharing. FUCK cancer! FUCK the main causes of cancer. They should be illegal! I don’t mean to be a downer, but chemo and radiation puts it on pause it’s not a cure. But just like any other disease it’s a fighting process of elimination. I hope you get more than 4 years after fight number 2.

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