I'm sitting in the recliner at the Huntsman Cancer Center with 480 ml of nivolumab pumping into my arm. It's been a quiet month, health-wise. As the weather cools, my skin has dried and I've noticed a bit more itching due to my Opdivo-induced dermal toxicity, but it's not even a grade 1 rash. My labs were great, and the knowledge that my last scan was NED has meant that I have not been thinking too much about the fact that I have metastatic cancer.
On the bladder cancer discussion board, a newly diagnosed patient asked how to deal with the constant threat of recurrence. The poster had been diagnosed with non-muscle invasive bladder cancer, and was getting BGC treatments. That's the mildest form of bladder cancer, and the most treatable. Yes, he'll have to be vigilant, but if he does so it is unlikely he's going to die from it. I started to draft a reply telling him to get some perspective and how I've been living with Stage IV for more than 7 years ... then deleted it. It's not my place to lecture other people whose world has been rocked by a cancer diagnosis, even if it's a totally treatable form of cancer. They need to walk their path and gain what they can from it.
A few days ago I was speaking with my brother and sharing how, at age 18, I broke my leg while riding my motorcycle. The forced cessation of most of my activities during my recovery caused me to reevaluate my life and make some fundamental changes for the better. Had I not broken my leg, my life likely would have been much different. I have seen how times of challenge and trial have caused me to try to be a better person. I think my cancer journey likewise has helped me to focus on things that are more important. It also has helped me sharpen my sense of gratitude for the simple things and little joys each day can bring.
Last night I watched the Nationals play game 2 of the World Series against the Astros. After Adam Eaton hit scored in the 7th inning, he bounced through a gauntlet of teammates, plopped down next to Howie Kendrick, and they both pantomimed driving a car, complete with engine sounds and shifting noises. That type of simple joy from grown men while playing a game reminded me of how important it is to keep things in perspective. I know that it's a lot easier to do when you're winning -- as I currently am in my game of cancer whack-a-mole -- and I hope that I can retain that perspective if and when my tumors return and the cold hand of death is upon my shoulder.
GO NATS!
