I started off this decade with my testicular cancer diagnosis back in February of 2011, so it’s only fitting that I close the decade out in November of 2019 still having nightmares about the whole ordeal. It just goes to show that a cancer diagnosis is something that can affect you for your entire life, even when it’s a “good cancer.”
I think it was hauling all of these landscaping stones to build our new fire pit that really did me in.
I’ve been working my tail off lately doing a lot of lifting and hauling of things both for home projects and an office move. It’s involved a lot of squatting and lifting with my legs especially, which has once again aggravated my inguinal (groinal) area. On top of having had a few surgeries for cancer “down below”, I’ve also had bi-lateral inguinal hernia repair surgery in this same area, which is a very common issue for big and tall dudes like myself. Fortunately there’s no new issues there, but my body has very clearly been attempting to rip itself in half once again from all of the pain I’ve been having. It can be really disconcerting and feel a lot like “ball pain”, due to how all of the nerves in this area are interconnected. It doesn’t help that I favor my left leg (I’m left-handed) and that this is also the side where I “still have one”. I was concerned enough to give myself a very thorough testicular self-exam and all felt fine, but it also led to a horrible dream.
I think pretty much every cancer survivor has nightmares about their experiences. We fear day and night that our cancers are going to come back and then having to go through brutal treatments and surgeries again, and then have nightmares about recurrences, too. This was another of the same, the first in a long while, and this time nearly 9 years from diagnosis. A spot in my upper lung had been found in the dream, and all presumptions were that it was a late-recurrence and inoperable due to spread. Late recurrences of testicular cancer aren’t typically responsive to chemotherapy and can usually only be cured by surgical resection. So if something isn’t just a single site or it has spread, the prognosis is usually poor. The writing was pretty much on the wall for me in the dream. This was it — and then I woke up.
The dream was as real as could be, and after I had awoken I wasn’t quite sure what had happened, and what was real and what wasn’t. What was shocking about this nightmare to me wasn’t the dream itself, but rather how I had responded to the news both in the dream and after. In the dream and facing what was pretty much a terminal cancer recurrence, I wasn’t actually afraid. I just had this peaceful and knowing acceptance that something like this could always have happened, and that this was just my time. Yes, it was upsetting to all and wasn’t what I or anybody else wanted, but we don’t have control over things like this, and I had simply accepted that my physical life and existence would soon be moving on.
Life is precious. Anything can happen to anyone at any time, and we have no real control. In an instant life can change and will never be the same again, and here in my nightmare was another one of those moments, this time leading to the end of my physical life. All we really have and have ever had is right now. There’s no guarantees for the future or of our health for anyone, and having to give up on that illusion of control in life as a young and invincible 33 year-old was one of the hardest things I had to do after cancer.
“The best way to survive cancer is to LIVE”. This was the motto that I came up with after spending a year almost literally worrying myself to death after a terrible recurrence scare I’d had the year before, and then fighting hard every day trying to stay one step ahead of PTSD. Just get out there and live your best life, go amazing places, do amazing things, have the best time that you can, make a difference for others, and stop worrying about what happened yesterday and what might happen tomorrow. I've lived my life on this premise for many years now, and each of my years since cancer has been filled with more life than all 33 of them combined prior to cancer. That’s a whole lot of living in this decade, and it’s also helped to bring me peace after cancer. I’ve also come to believe that we’re so much more than our physical existence here in this world, which has helped take the wind out of the sails of my fears of death and of dying as well. We’re all going to die someday. Death is a part of life — it’s simply inevitable, and I’ve learned to stop being afraid.
The worst thing that you can do as a cancer survivor is to just sit around waiting for something to happen. Go take a look at my yearly photo album page above, and you’ll see that we’ve always tried to do the exact opposite of that.
“The fear of death follows from the fear of life.
A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.” - Mark Twain
I’ve been talking the talk and walking the walk for years, and now I’m finally dreaming the dreams, too! After I woke up, I wasn’t panicked or hyperventilating, nor was I in tears or disturbed in even the slightest way, and went right back to sleep! I’ve long accepted that I could go at any moment, to the point that bad dreams and nightmares no longer faze me. I suppose if I can have a recurrence scare or a nightmare like this and not even bat an eye, that that's a pretty powerful and evolved position to be in as a cancer survivor.
I won’t lie that time and experience does help, too. I’m almost 9 years out from my cancer diagnosis now. It could be that after having had 500 nightmares about cancer over the years, that the 501st just doesn’t budge the needle anymore. So there’s that, but without a doubt, a lot of evolving and spiritual growth went into all this to get me where I am today. I’m just not afraid of cancer or even dreams about cancer anymore.
I claim no expertise — I’m just some guy trying to find his way through this mess called “life” and also life after young adult cancer like everybody else, and helping others along the way. Please do give my many blogs about testicular cancer and young adult cancer a read and a share, and maybe they can help yourself and others find your way and make all of this a little easier as well.
Blessings to all and a Happy Thanksgiving!
Steve
