Finding Serenity Amidst the Turmoil of Cancer

A Journey to Inner Peace and Strength

It was a perfectly pleasant June afternoon. I had just finished refilling the bird feeders in my backyard and was gleefully watching the invasion of black crows, majestic blue jays, and common sparrows overtake the space. There was the occasional “tiff” as they fought for the precious seeds, but soon they all managed to reach a degree of harmony while laying stake to their respective claims.

This peaceful scene was rudely interrupted by the shrill sound of my phone. The sound of my doctor’s voice came across on the other side of the line. The first words out of his mouth were,

“Are you sitting down?”

That is never a good sign!

Having just completed a C.T. scan a few days prior, the alarm bells in my head started ringing in regards to what was to come.

“ I am afraid your scan has shown a mass on your kidney, he continued. There are also signs of potential spread to other organs.

I am very sorry to give you this news.”

Confusion and a strange numbness took over as I tried to digest this information. What on earth was this person talking about? I felt perfectly fine.

My thoughts were interrupted once again by the sound of the doctor’s voice.

“We believe it is Renal Cell Carcinoma and we will be referring you to an oncologist and urologist who will takeover your treatment.”

This was an awful lot of information for a person to take in on the spur of the moment. A confusing haze overtook me as I put the phone down.

The beginning of an experience that will last a lifetime had begun. One that had me confront my own mortality and begin to prepare for what was to come.

In this life and the next.

I am not just referring to the physical component here. That is all rather straightforward.

Let’s see if I can put it into a neat little nutshell.

I had a tumor on my kidney and a pre-cancerous nodule on my lung. In the grand scheme of things, I was quite fortunate as the nodule was easily managed.

The tumor however had to be removed by surgery. I ended up having an open partial nephrectomy (removal of the tumor from the kidney and reconstruction of the organ).

On October 31st (yes… Halloween) I had the surgery. While it was a frightening experience, everything was a success and the cancer was removed.

The recovery was quite difficult as the incision was quite large and went from my back to just short of my belly button. They needed a lot of space to work on the kidney.

All that being said, it was a success. I am now cancer-free!

I endured a lot of physical pain to get another shot at life. It was well worth it.

What I did not expect, however, was the mental anguish that comes with a cancer diagnosis. The physical pain was the easy part for me.

The emotional turmoil floored me, however.

You see, for the first month, we did not know how far the cancer had spread and metastasized. My appointment with the oncologist took 3 weeks to have and get the clear answers I needed. During that time every possible scenario ran through my head.

Visions of an imminent death were never far from my thoughts.

Am I afraid of death?

Not so much.

But I do fear the unknown. And my life had just become drenched with the unknown.

I did not know how much time I had left with my loved ones. How could I possibly just leave them? Everything we had and worked for… just gone.

As strange as it may sound, I was also filled with overwhelming guilt due to the potential of leaving them all behind. Like somehow I failed them.

If that was not bad enough, after my diagnosis all my normal activities came to a complete halt. Exercise, writing, reading… everything! I closed down accounts (including my Medium account which I now regret!).

All my time was now being spent on medical appointments, spending time with family, and preparing end-of-life tasks such as finalizing my will.

In short, I was preparing for death.

That was not an easy thing to do. Too many unknowns.

What is death anyway?

Is there an afterlife in Heaven?

Maybe everything just ceases to exist. Dead and gone.

Will I become a ghost? Can I still be with my family in that form? I don’t want to leave them.

All unknowns for me.

Yes, in hindsight, the physical pain for me personally was a breeze when compared to the mental turmoil I faced.

That being said, the physical component was not a walk in the park either. Aside from the actual painful surgery, I was very sick and completely fatigued most of the time. Any energy I once had was completely gone.

All my independence had disappeared. My kind wife did everything for me as I remained bedridden.

I watched her as she cared for me. I recognized the pain in her face as she struggled with her own back and shoulder pain in an attempt to ease mine. I saw the look of anguish and fear on her face when I went through my darkest moments.

Once again… guilt!

Not just for what I was physically putting her through, but also for the time we had missed out on. Knowing that she was experiencing just as much emotional pain as myself.

It was hard to accept. It still is.

But here I am.

Six months after I first received that phone call on that bright June day.

Realizing that I have received a second chance at life. That is unfortunately not something that all cancer patients can say.

My heart grieves for them.

However, my heart is also bursting with renewed determination and strength for the future.

The main thing that I have learned from this entire experience is to not take anything for granted.

It can all be over in a split second.

I am taking this turmoil and turning it around. Using the lessons to shape the future of whatever life I have left.

Whether it be one day or a thousand.

I am also a realist. I am more than aware that my cancer will likely come back. The odds are overwhelming. I am now being actively monitored and scheduled cancer scans are a new part of my life.

I will not let cancer define me though.

I have absolutely learned from it.

But it will not define me.

I will take the lessons that I have learned and apply them to my second life.

That is why I am writing again. It is a passion I sorely missed. A chunk of me was removed when I was no longer writing. I am happy to be back with a clear and crisp mind.

The fog has lifted.

Today as I look out my office window and into my backyard I see a lone crow sitting underneath the empty bird feeder. It peers back at me with its keen, lonely eyes reflecting a sense of loss for what once was.

Something that will be again.

Rejuvenated and reborn.

My first task today is to fill the bird feeders!