“Unfortunately it’s a tumor. We’re looking at stage 2 cancer… 4.5 mm in size”. Those were the oncologist’s words (unfortunately, our family doctor) at the start of 2017, after a series of analyses, blood tests and revisions that were the most invasive, uncomfortable and insulting to a person’s dignity that anyone could live through for two and a half weeks. The feeling was terror, pain, impotence, frustration, ANGER, OUTRAGE, maybe even HATE.

After taking this bitter taste of reality from one of the most exhausting illnesses of our time, it took several days to process the news and understand what was happening, what it meant for my family, my wife, my friends, and above all for ME. What should I do? What can I do? How should I manage this? These were the questions that ran through my mind every day. The answer in many cases was I HAVE NO IDEA.

I have found a plethora of information that exists regarding Cancer: magazine articles, medical publications, family advice, what a friend’s cousin says. But, in my search for answers I haven’t found a human perspective, personal and real, on what the people who walk this difficult route to recovery live day to day, nor what our family members and those who accompany us, holding our hands even though their feet are not on the same path, feel and live.

It’s called Cancer

The first approach to this topic is fear, and a resistance to calling the diagnosis by its name. I have cancer. It’s not a tumor, it’s not “an illness” or a “disease”, it’s not a “test” or a “symptom”, its called cancer, and just as we are not afraid to say “I have a cold,” “I have a fever,” “I have a headache,” I think the first step to confront the reality of cancer and the whole process of treatment that comes after the diagnosis is to call it by its name: “I have cancer.” For me, losing the fear of recognizing our sickness by its name is the first step in taking control of it.

Time

Once you get the diagnosis, then comes the most difficult stage (from my perspective); processing the news and accepting its reality. Everyone has their own unique way to deal with the problem and each is valid; what I can say is, don’t keep it inside, don’t swallow your feelings and pretend to be strong, in this moment it’s our right to have conflicting emotions, feel hurt, angry, to cry like we never have before. It’s our moment to be the child that throws a tantrum and whines – and believe me, I have. But, as with everything, hitting bottom is limited to a specific space of minutes and hours. My mom (who has beat cancer twice, stages 3 and 1) taught me a formula that has always helped me: “be depressed, cry, get angry, suffer, for half an hour let yourself hit bottom, but after those 30 minutes of extreme pain get up, because there’s a lot to do and life continues. Time it with your watch so you don’t give yourself more than those 30 minutes.” It’s true, the world continues on its course without care for what happens to us as individuals. After 30 minutes, get up because life goes on, and so does OURS.

 

Cancer brings the worst… but also the best

After the devastating blow of the diagnosis, comes the other reality. Cancer doesn’t only affect the people who have it, it hurts and exhausts all of the people who love us. The first day I didn’t cry; I asked questions to the doctor about what would follow. My mom couldn’t contain it, and she cried for me. When I talked with my uncle Marco, the only doctor in the family, he couldn’t stay strong. My aunts cried, my cousins cried. My wife questioned, she held on to the good, she cheered me up, she told me it would be ok. My friends were caring and supportive. Everyone has their own ghosts to overcome that come out in the moment when someone close, someone they love, is diagnosed with cancer.

But when the calm comes, and it ALWAYS does, the only constant that remains is LOVE. My wife accepted with love the changes in plans; out of love my mom has bought all of the powders and pills that alternative doctors have recommended to sustain the body during treatment; my cousin gave up time caring for her own patients to go with me to the radiation appointments; another cousin made up classes so he could escape the office and be with me during chemotherapy. In the end, the cancer brought out the best of my family and friends; what cancer is going to leave me (besides the scars) is love, forgiveness, having made peace, reunion. In the end, cancer has united us.

Useful advice

After the appointments, hospital visits and budgeting, came the moment to reveal treatment. My tumor is sufficiently large and advanced to require both chemo and radiation therapy. The radiation will be every day for 28 sessions. The chemotherapy is double, one dose taken orally every day, and another injected once a week. An avalanche of information. Within the information, one piece of advice resonated between all of the doctors who are treating me: “spoil yourself”. It’s not easy to accept this advice when (like me) you’re used to spoiling others, being responsible, providing. But a week after starting treatment and a month after the bucket of cold water of the diagnosis, it’s one of the best pieces of advice I’ve followed. My wife, mom, family and friends are here to help. They will find ways to make us feel good and give us strength each day, in each session. Take advantage of it; there’s nothing wrong with being spoiled sometimes, especially when the treatment justifies it.

It’s MY illness

I’m the one who is suffering from cancer, I’m the one who will have the treatment, I’m the one who will be constantly nauseous for 6 weeks, I’m the one who will lose weight, lose my hair. We are the ones who face cancer every day, who know the impact of the treatment, how much it hurts, how irritating they are; we are the ones who will lose our appetite, the ones who will be amazed by the different interventions to “prepare” us for the treatment. We are the ones who will live the cancer and its treatment, the ones who will live through the reaction of our individual bodies. The cancer affects all of the loved ones who surround us, but in the end, it is each of us individually who will experience it. So don’t let anyone take this process away from you, because for me the journey has been more difficult carrying two suitcases, mine and that of that person who feels they are suffering more than I because of my illness.

Strength

Before facing the treatment I had never eaten without hunger, never been nauseous for entire weeks, never lost my appetite. From my reading I’ve discovered that the most common side effects of the chemo and radiation therapy are precisely the loss of appetite, nausea and generally not wanting to eat. Even so, it is our primary battle in being able to face the treatments; our stomachs and our minds are the most important sources of strength to withstand treatment. Eat when you’re hungry, eat when you’re not hungry, eat when you’re nauseous, just EAT. I had never understood the wonderful significance of my grandmother’s words, may she rest in peace, when she said sweetly, “you need to eat son.” For her, everything could be resolved with a good meal, and with good reasons since we’re from Oaxaca and have the good fortune of one of the most delicious and diverse cuisines in the world.

After my first week of treatment, I still have conflicting emotions. Sometimes I cry, but then I smile because I remember that the Cancer too has an expiration date and that sooner than we think, IT WILL BE GONE. I hold on to the cure, to the treatment, to my love of life, to how much I enjoy being in this world, the love for my wife, my mom, my family and God. Many times we forget in our day to day routines that it is the little details in life, the ones that are always right in front of us, that make us happy. We take for granted those little details that give us meaning and make us better people. The art of marveling at the small, simple things, the way children do. To discover the beauty in living is something I have recovered since cancer came into my life. In this regard, I can say that cancer changed my life, but not just for worse but also for better, and the best is that when it goes, because believe me, the cancer WILL LEAVE, my eyes will continue to be open to the world.

I hope these lines are useful to give some perspective to those who are living with cancer. If you would like to share your own stories, anecdotes, photographs, drawings, advice from your personal experience, I invite you to do so in the space for comments, or send them to mvalcon2064@gmail.com, and let me know whether the message is for myself, or if you’d like to share it on this site.

Mario

February 3, 2017

Mexico City