It's all about the lens from which you're looking through.
Isn't it funny how good things can appear great when compared to where you've come from? Or vice versa. Experiences only become relevant when they fit into a context. Further, down the line, when you look back on what made up your life - what defined you as a person - it's never just a randomly ordered series of events. Rather, its a myriad of ups and downs, all building off each other. So, whatever success of tragedy one faces, again, it's all about context & the perspective that context gleans.
So, when I heard from my Dr. today that the cancerous tumor plaguing my body was a level 1 seminoma that can be treated with simple observation my reaction was ecstatic. Wait, back up. I received the confirmation that a potentially deadly tumor was inside my body, and I'm happy? Absolutely. Compared to what the results could have been, this is a best case scenario. And, as a cancer survivor, maybe you're never in of the clear, but I'm very close to saying these three powerful words: i beat you. Make it four: again.
While wildly popular comedians typically aren't the best source of inspiration, I read this quote from Stephen Colbert recently in a Rolling Stone article, in reference to his father and brothers dying in a plane crash when he was young:
"the most valuable thing I can think of is to be grateful for suffering. That is a sublime feeling, and completely inexplicable and illogical, but no one doesn't suffer. So the degree to which you can be aware of your own humanity is the degree to which you can accept, with open eyes, your suffering. To be grateful for your suffering is to be grateful for your humanity, because what else are you going to do - say, 'No, thanks'?"
So, being through two bouts with cancer, maybe I've lost some physical pieces of my body to rid that cancer, but I've gained one thing: perspective. So, for that, I don't feel unlucky at all to have gone through this; I feel pretty damn grateful.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Life After the MIUU
I created this blog based on a simple premise: i went through something life-altering and this was a way to chronicle it. At 22, when I first encountered cancer, I assumed it was sort of a once-in-a-lifetime deal. Well, 19 months later, i found out fate can be a funny thing.
It all started about a month ago when I felt something that just wasn't right. Feeling a lump on your body is always a scary moment, especially for someone that's faced cancer before. I had it checked out, was referred to a radiologist to get an ultrasound and was then referred to an NYU urologist for an additional ultrasound where the diagnosis was clear: testicular cancer. That was Thursday, 6 days ago. Yesterday, September 15th, exactly one year and seven months after my first surgery, I was back under the knife.
Naturally, facing cancer again, my thought process gets broken down in two ways: the known and the unknown. The known was that I had a tumor that appeared cancerous, and to remove that required an orchiectomy. An orchiectomy is performed by making a small incision on the lower abdomen and removing the testical that the tumor is impacting. This, hopefully, is what rids your body of the cancer completley. But, that leads to me to the unknown.
Coming into the surgery, I had no idea if the cancer had spread to other parts of my body, or what sub-type of cancerous tumor I was inflicted with (either seminoma or nonseminoma). Depending on the sub-type, it can require additional treatment even if it hasn't spread. Well, I received a CAT scan two days before the surgery, and was treated with this news right before I went under: it came out clean. So, at a minimum, one piece of the unknown was made clearer - the cancer hadn't spread. However, I still don't know know what type of cancer it is, and what the next steps will be. So, while I've made strides to answer the unknown, there is still progress to be made.
Physically, the contrast between what I detail in this blog about my previous surgery and what I am going through now are night and day. My first operation required a 5 day hospital stay, and getting in and out of bed felt like climbing mountains. This most recent operation took place at the NYU Medical Center in the MIUU (minimally invasive urology unit). The words "minimally invasive" were like music to my ears. Thanks to the amazing world of medicine, the doctors are able to perform this operation while taking a very small physical toll on me. The recovery time is 7-10 days, not 4-6 weeks.
So at this point, all there really is to chronicle is that stage 1 is complete. The cancer is out of me, and while I'm not in the clear yet - I'm moving in the right direction. I may not have the time on my hands like I did a year and a half ago to keep up with this blog, but I felt it necessary to revisit it.
Cancer had me down once, and I got right back up. I don't know what it's thinking coming back for more. I look forward to my 2nd victory dance.
It all started about a month ago when I felt something that just wasn't right. Feeling a lump on your body is always a scary moment, especially for someone that's faced cancer before. I had it checked out, was referred to a radiologist to get an ultrasound and was then referred to an NYU urologist for an additional ultrasound where the diagnosis was clear: testicular cancer. That was Thursday, 6 days ago. Yesterday, September 15th, exactly one year and seven months after my first surgery, I was back under the knife.
Naturally, facing cancer again, my thought process gets broken down in two ways: the known and the unknown. The known was that I had a tumor that appeared cancerous, and to remove that required an orchiectomy. An orchiectomy is performed by making a small incision on the lower abdomen and removing the testical that the tumor is impacting. This, hopefully, is what rids your body of the cancer completley. But, that leads to me to the unknown.
Coming into the surgery, I had no idea if the cancer had spread to other parts of my body, or what sub-type of cancerous tumor I was inflicted with (either seminoma or nonseminoma). Depending on the sub-type, it can require additional treatment even if it hasn't spread. Well, I received a CAT scan two days before the surgery, and was treated with this news right before I went under: it came out clean. So, at a minimum, one piece of the unknown was made clearer - the cancer hadn't spread. However, I still don't know know what type of cancer it is, and what the next steps will be. So, while I've made strides to answer the unknown, there is still progress to be made.
Physically, the contrast between what I detail in this blog about my previous surgery and what I am going through now are night and day. My first operation required a 5 day hospital stay, and getting in and out of bed felt like climbing mountains. This most recent operation took place at the NYU Medical Center in the MIUU (minimally invasive urology unit). The words "minimally invasive" were like music to my ears. Thanks to the amazing world of medicine, the doctors are able to perform this operation while taking a very small physical toll on me. The recovery time is 7-10 days, not 4-6 weeks.
So at this point, all there really is to chronicle is that stage 1 is complete. The cancer is out of me, and while I'm not in the clear yet - I'm moving in the right direction. I may not have the time on my hands like I did a year and a half ago to keep up with this blog, but I felt it necessary to revisit it.
Cancer had me down once, and I got right back up. I don't know what it's thinking coming back for more. I look forward to my 2nd victory dance.
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