The Best Thing About Having Cancer

Yet another example of how running can bring clarity and purpose to one’s life: While running the Des Moines half-marathon in October, I had an epiphany. The epiphany began to formulate at about mile four and by mile eleven, I finally knew what it means-to me-to be a “cancer survivor”, and what I need to do with that gift.

Those of you who know me, know that running another half-marathon is not, in and of itself, an earth shattering endeavor.  This time was a little different.  First of all, my “athlete profile” was in a local activity and the souvenir guide for the marathon.  It was a very well-written piece that talked about my two bouts with cancer and how running helped me get through the trials and tribulations of that time of my life.  The next momentous event was attending Above & Beyond Cancer’s “Evening of Inspiration” the Friday before the race.  The evening included a recap of the group’s trip earlier that month to Macchu Pichu in Peru.  It also included a small panel of cancer survivors.  They shared their stories. How cancer came into their lives and how it has impacted their lives.  They talked about their struggles, how they overcame them, and life-lessons learned.  All the while I’m thinking about wanting to go with this group on their next endeavor.  I was trying to figure out why I want to go to an exotic location with this group (could it be Nepal!?!?) and what I would say if I was on a panel of cancer survivors in 2015.  Is it just that I fancy myself a world traveler and athlete and that I just happened to have had cancer? Seems to be it should be a better reason than that.  I continued to imagine myself on next year’s panel.  Sure, I could share my story and lessons learned.  I’ve been told that it’s “inspirational”.  I love the idea and the possibility of helping and inspiring other people in difficult situations.  However, I also feel a little uncomfortable with it all.  I feel a little bit like, “hey, I had a couple nasty health issues, look at me, look at me”. That is to say, it feels a little narcissistic to go around touting my survivorship.  Lots of people don’t survive cancer.  Lots of people that I know personally don’t survive cancer. It was mostly luck of the draw that I found both my cancers early, had access to excellent health care, and am now cured of lymphoma and in remission from breast cancer.  I could feel that there must be an additional reason the universe is hurling me towards opportunities for my voice to be heard.  Speaking of opportunities for speaking about my experience; next, MediaCom’s channel 22 wanted to do an interview at the Expo the day before the race.  I agreed and had a lot of fun doing it. However, a lot of their questions stumped me.  Questions like: “How has cancer changed your life? What lessons have you learned by having cancer?” And, so on.  These questions are hard for me because cancer didn’t particularly change my life.  The lesson I learned about being present, of being mindful in everything you do, embracing life and those you love because everything could be gone in a moment’s notice (or lack thereof) started when one of my best high school friends was killed in a car accident when I was seventeen.  This knowledge and conviction to live a meaningful, heartfelt life grew when my dad dropped dead at 48 years old in the bathroom in the middle of the night five years later.   And, let me tell you, to have these things really hit home, there’s nothing like your own near death experience to add to it.  It wasn’t cancer that almost killed me.  It was child birth-over eleven years ago.  I’ll spare the details for this blog, but suffice it to say…I truly was knock knock knocking on heaven’s door.  I have never been so scared.  Not even when six years later, I was diagnosed with cancer. Twice.

But cancer is what people want to know about, and what I get to talk about.  So during the Des Moines half-marathon, I decided I needed to figure out what message I need to share since I have been given the gift of not only cancer survivorship, but the ears of others.  A hard run on a beautiful Iowa fall day did not disappoint. 

Now to the epiphany.

The Best Thing About Having Cancer is that there is little to no stigma attached to a cancer diagnosis anymore.  If you have family and friends, if you are part of a community, you will have support.  When I was first diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma in June of 2010 and was in the hospital for five days, the plants and flowers that I received filled the room.  Cards of support showed up in my mailbox regularly from distant relatives, long lost friends, and high school classmates. My Facebook page was on fire with supportive, loving, and caring messages.  For the next three summer months, my neighbor mowed my lawn without being asked.  Four girlfriends came to thoroughly clean my house every two weeks.  A dear friend from church brought me homemade chicken noodle soup several times during the course of my chemotherapy.  When one of my best friends came over to bring me flowers, she caught me in the depths of sorrow as my hair was falling out in clumps.  She was there to support me by doing my hair for the last time in a long time.  I even had a hair-chopping party at my salon, attended by 20 of my closest friends, family, and supporters.  They bought me scarves, wigs, big earrings and wine.  They gave me their love, their hugs, their tears. 

The next summer when I was diagnosed with early stage breast cancer, the outpouring wasn’t quite as enthusiastic, but I most certainly felt supported. Many close friends and family checked in on my physical and mental health almost daily. The donations for my fundraising for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society via Team-in-Training poured in.

During the same time, one of my best friends of over 20 years was suffering from severe depression.  The effect on her daily life was similar to mine.  We both suffered from extreme fatigue and spent a lot of time sleeping.  We both spent a fair share of time crying and scared of the future.  But, you guessed it…nobody sent her flowers, or cleaned her house, or mowed her lawn, or threw a support party to help her get through the dark days ahead.  She confided to a couple very close friends that she was struggling, but even that was exponentially more difficult for her to do than for me due to feelings of shame and a general stigmatized view of depression and other mental illnesses held by the society we live in.

Thanks to genetics and a pretty decent “Adverse Childhood Experiences” score (more on this indicator of trauma in a future blog), I’ve dabbled in both depression and anxiety.  Consequently, I feel qualified to draw a few conclusions having also had cancer twice. 

Here’s the punch line:  Major depression is a treatable illness that affects the way a person thinks, feels, behaves, and functions. At any point in time, 3 to 5 percent of people suffer from major depression; the lifetime risk is about 17 percent.

Anxiety disorders are the most common mental illness in the U.S., affecting 40 million adults in the United States age 18 and older (18% of U.S. population).

Anxiety and depression affects your friends, family, coworkers and neighbors. It affects you. It affects me.  It can easily lead to other ailments such as heart disease, as well as the abuse of tobacco, food, alcohol, and other drugs.  The great news is that treatment is available and effective.  The bad news is that only about 1/3 of those who suffer from anxiety and/or depression get the help they need.  The most common reason for not accessing treatment? Stigma. An outdated and harmful idea that we should use our willpower to get ourselves out of the predicament we’re in.  That asking for help is weak. 

Which brings me to my epiphany in October of 2014 during the Des Moines Half-Marathon.  I will use the opportunities presented to me as a two-time cancer survivor who likes to run to talk about the impact of trauma, depression, and anxiety on the public’s health and well-being.  I will fight to reduce the stigma and shame associated with these illnesses. 

I will urge you to reach out to your friends, your family, your co-workers who you suspect are suffering the aftermath of any trauma, anxiety, depression (or any mental illness)-anyone you would help if you found out they had cancer- and send them cards, make them dinners, clean their houses, and mow their lawns.