#1 Cancerlebrity

#survivor 💪🏼 #empath 🙇🏻‍♀️ #cancerlebrity 😎 #advocacy #influencer #narcissist #publicfigure

[#1 Cancerlebrity @CancerMaven]

🎵Here's the story of a lovely lady
Who lost her hair becoming chemo girl
She looked for wigs in pink, red, black and rainbow
The candy cane with curls🎶

🎵That's the way she became the Cancer Bunch
The Cancer Bunch, the Cancer Bunch
That's the way she became the Cancer Bunch!🎶

[Thanks Cancer! @ThanksCancer]

Cancer is a terrible place to go but people keep visiting. 🤷🏻‍♀️

[#1 Cancerlebrity @CancerMaven]

47 did promise to run the government like one of his businesses: straight into the ground.

https://t.co/wwa12kWR8R

[Mike Linn @TheCancerSutra]

For context, this was an open letter I published on 4-24-20. Today would be my 6th anniversary of my first remission.

This Time Imperfect

One year ago today, my oncologist informed me that my treatment for stage 3C metastatic melanoma was finally over. We shook hands, made some awkward cancer jokes, and my girlfriend and I left UCLA Health. I walked out into the beautiful, hated sun as an overwhelmed yet different human. I had endured a 14-month period of my life that included a whirlwind diagnosis, multiple surgeries, the possibility of death, and the physical, mental, and emotional toll of my fight. Though I will not be declared cured unless I make it 5 years without recurrence, I had won at that moment.

This past year has provided me with every necessary second to unpack the collective ramifications of the journey, though I’m positive that the process is ever-evolving. It has been like having 366(!) consecutive birthdays, even with the typical (and now very atypical) trials and tribulations the world offers. For reference, last April I was on an insane amount of steroids for side effects from treatment, not sleeping, and still trying to figure out if I would need to continue the bi-weekly intravenous doses. Approximately a year prior to that, I was immobile after a surgery to remove 50 stitches worth of tissue from my calf and lymph nodes from my groin; my most cogent memory from that time was when ‘Through the Wire’ by Kanye came on, and I just bawled during the entire song.

Did I mention that my first excision was done by my aforementioned then-girlfriend and her good friend while we were on a snowboarding trip in Colorado? We had only been dating for a few months before figuring out that the mutating freckle on my leg was probably not something to be ignored, but rather an emergency. She remained with me through the entirety of the treatment and beyond. Our relationship ultimately became a casualty of stunted development, repressed communication, and the need for me to be emotionally selfish in order to cope with what I was facing. I hate that I put her through that, but am grateful to have gained a wonderful human in my life. Our relationship, though different and romantically ended, is an overwhelming success to me. Not all endings signify failure; sometimes they just represent necessary change.

From experience, I would not recommend having to tell your parents that you might die soon. It doesn’t play nicely with them, even if it’s hilarious every time to you. I’ll admit, I broke one night when I was really drunk- I let my mom know I was also scared, and that’s on me. But exactly no one needs to deal with that dynamic, and I’ve now given irreparable additional stress for life to my already-Jewish progenitors.

I found out the worst metrics of my entire diagnosis in the middle of my office on a Thursday afternoon at around 4:00 pm. I took the call without getting up from my desk because I’m an emotional genius, and when I hung up, all my co-workers were weeping but me. I finally got in on the ugly crying like… last week, so we’re even, team. Just for good measure, I decided that doing a second interview/on-boarding meeting with a new-hire would be the last thing I did the following day before taking my medical hiatus. She’s a champion of a human being who took it in stride and remains a great friend and co-worker today, but still: Emotional. Genius.
I am typically extremely extroverted, yet part of my plan for emerging from the cocoon of a year-long regimen of immunotherapy treatment and existential uncertainty was to shut myself in both physically and emotionally.

The current world merely adopted social distancing, but I was molded by it.

I put on a pleasant face every day for the people I interacted with, but I was not dynamic at all. I didn’t learn, grow, or contribute to anything other than my physical recovery while treading neck-high water mentally. Luckily enough, as a result, I feel healthy enough to contribute these days in every way I can, but it sure took some time.

Along with the immediate and long-term existential threat of malignant cancer, the treatment came with a preponderance of other physical stuff. To begin with, I gained over 100 stitches and their associated scars between two surgeries on my calf and groin. I lost a couple lymph node buddies. My thyroid is no longer self-sufficient, but I’m hoping it’s just a phase (doctor’s note: it’s definitely not). By perhaps coincidence, I developed an allergy to penicillin, but finding that out the hard way concurrently was no bueno, to say the least. Look up ‘delayed hypersensitivity skin reaction’ on the internet, but never get it.

The weirdest side effect was that I forgot how to smile properly for about 10 months. Yes, you read that correctly. There is plenty of captured evidence, because that’s how photos work: people tell you to smile, and then you do that. Not me! It was like I could only conjure the face for ‘drunk friend embarrassing themself while you apologetically try to drag them out of a bar’. This complication also led me to sign up for Invisalign to fix my crooked-ass teeth, so I could make myself commit long-term to both living and smiling again. So far, so good: thanks, cancer!

I adopted an important mantra on day one of my journey, even if I didn’t fully understand why then: this is just my version of everyone else’s problems. It would be silly to assume you know what will disrupt you personally, whether it’s physical illness, mental toil, threat of death, or all that rolled into one virus. Hell, people have worse things than cancer happen to them every second of every day. I had multiple friends pass away during a year in which I was told how brave I was, how unfortunate I was, and how no one would ever understand the battle I was going through. Bullshit. Cancer is and was just my own concentrated version of what life throws at you. It was and still is a journey, and a legitimate cause for concern, but I’m not special despite my best effort at becoming a member of the X-Men.

As I write this, we are in a unique period of human history. There are millions sick, thousands dying, and tangible fear amidst a global shutdown. Even without a gosh darn pandemic, people have normal ebbs and flows of life to deal with. During this time, I have seen friends, family, and people in multiple communities suffer hardships. The level of resilience has been inspiring, but at the same time, I see the gritted teeth, some subdued eyes, and variations of uncertainty I felt all last year. The differences between cancer and Covid-19 are innumerable, yet life is about dealing with the next obstacle. The one beautiful bi-product of us going through something together is that we all have mutual sympathy, empathy, and understanding for the trauma. There’s still a huge range of reactions and emotions, and they all manifest differently. Some people may even show no symptoms at all.

One year ago, if you told me that I would be celebrating this milestone the following April by arranging a mediocre-platform video chat with my loved ones that almost guarantees everyone will have their information stolen, I would have smiled and nodded without truly comprehending what to do. Just like today, I wanted so badly to be in the same room as everyone I care about and hug them all, but part of enduring a struggle is often sacrifice so that we can get back to even greater highs on the other side. Abject of that, what’s the point of anything difficult? The premise is just as confusing with all the information we have changing daily, but I’m having fun imagining a weird time traveler or psychic telling me that then.

Most importantly, I reached today: I get to see those friends. I have a family who cares far too much about a clown like me. I have a business that is embraced by a community that I feel deeply connected to. I have my health in every sense but the pesky specter of cancer, and I have so many more things to be grateful for on a daily basis.

During my extended stay in sickness and the correlated dark places, it was easy to lose sight of how lucky I was when you zoomed out on my life in totality. Granted, the situation was dire at the moment, but all I had to do was get through a portion of my fight to regain perspective. I meant it when I said every subsequent day has felt like my birthday, even these ones in quarantine, where I’m just dancing alone in my room.

We all encounter a bevy of individual and shared problems that span the significance of the human experience, and yet we’re all still fighting. For the rest of my life, each day may not feel like a birthday, but I’m going to try my best to never let that feeling escape. In short, maybe don’t get cancer, but if you do, make as many jokes as you can about it. Or whatever way you cope with things, because maybe you’re not tasteful.

Once more, I’m sorry and you’re welcome to my friends, family, co-workers, and loved ones. Some of you are all four. For anyone still reading this, I can’t believe you waded through that essay of self-congratulatory nonsense, but it sure helped me to write it. Thank you, and I love you all.

--

Same applies today. Crazy long read if you made it. Love ya'll.

#thankscancer #melanoma #mentalhealth

[#1 Cancerlebrity @CancerMaven]

Cancer doesn’t have a plan — cancer barely has concepts of a plan.

[Mark David "One Lung" Blum, Esq. @MarkDavidBlum]

@ThanksCancer serious question. my donctor asked me to come in monday out of nowhere. should i worry. if "it" is back, would you deal or just get into hospice. i cant go through chemo again. it was so miserable i begged to die. cisplatin and gemzar are worse than the tumor

[Mike Linn @TheCancerSutra]

I've got some positive human emotions flowing after a few weeks of them being deadened.

I recently wrote about how cancer is fascinating (albeit in a morbid, shitty way) - one of the things that has always made me shake my head is the profound on/off switch that my hormones create for certain authentic feelings under this specific duress.

Like... every single time I get into cancer stress, I kinda push through, and tell myself I'm handling it OK.

And then some amount of days/weeks/months later, I feel actual happiness, and I think "Ohhhhh, that was different!"

Glad I found it sooner than later; I hope it sticks around.

#thankscancer #melanoma #mentalhealth

[Mike Linn @TheCancerSutra]

I was just describing my diagnosis to a friend on the phone today.

We talked about the treatment, prognosis, and where I’m at mentally.

At one point, he said “you sound more amused than anything.”

I’m not sure I’d describe it as that, but despite being 100% useless, insidious, and silver lining-exempt in theory (it plays out differently in practice because we’re silly emotional animals), cancer is… fucking fascinating.

The level of danger, destruction, and emotional toil that something has exposed me to three times is mind boggling. Then consider I’ve never felt systemically sick from the disease itself before diagnosis; I’ve only been wrecked by side effects of the treatment.

It’s turned me into someone who is reasonably well-educated about medicine, our medical system, and a host of pragmatic health systems.

I am now acquainted with a modicum of empathy and humility, whereas pre-cancer 20-something year old me… anyway…

I can bend time now. The last month has felt like a year. The last year like a decade. The last six years have felt like one day. One long fucking day.

I think that’s what I’m after. I keep waking up in today. It’s like Groundhog’s Day - or better yet, Palm Springs, just for the cancer shoutout - representation matters, people 😬

But the day is long with plenty of adventure. It isn’t a nightmare, I just can’t find tomorrow.

And obviously, life is neither a shitty movie nor a shitty metaphor - there’s nuance to that feeling, and I recognize that I’ve made a lot of progress whenever I decide to stop and assess how life is going post-cancer.

It’s good. I’ll be good. I’ll get through this.

But it’s tiresome.

And amusing.

#thankscancer #mentalhealth #melanoma

[Katie @katievscancer]

I’m fine, truly. But I recognize my mental health is impacted by this god forsaken platform. I see more doomsday than I see of my cancer friends. I know the algorithm has trapped me.

Let’s flood the Twitter-waves w/positivity.

What do you love?
What makes your heart sing?

[Katie @katievscancer]

@huckle3erry @ThanksCancer @BSBreastCancer @thesaltiestcow -scan day!
-having someone ask “how much more chemo do you have to do?”
-cancer induced blood clot
-“My mom’s coworker’s second cousin died of your cancer”

[harriet @harriet87015606]

@ThanksCancer Ravi will be starting radiation this month. 5 doses in 5 days. He is non speaking autistic and has a hard time telling me what hurts. How can I best support him?

[TraceyMatthies_celebrant_journo @TraceyGMatthies]

1.30pm and I have finally taken off my my hat, scarf, puffer vest and gloves as I work at my desk. A medically induced hot flush finally made it possible to be dressed like my colleagues. @ThanksCancer

[WetlanderNW @WetlanderNW]

“There’s a crack in everything. Thats how the light gets in.”

Lots of places for light to get in here. 😂❤️‍🩹

@thankscancer #pnw

[#1 Cancerlebrity @CancerMaven]

@WetlanderNW @ThanksCancer I’ve never seen whales in real life 🐳

[#1 Cancerlebrity @CancerMaven]

@WetlanderNW @ThanksCancer I’m in bear lake Idaho — the water is soothing wherever it is 🌊

[WetlanderNW @WetlanderNW]

Howdy from the edge of the world. Weather is beautiful. The coastal fog keeps undulating in and out…calm seas and no wind to speak of.

@ThanksCancer

[Jill I Dippman, BA 🌻😷🦋 @jillyid]

@katievscancer @andersolofsson5 @poorbabi @A_Research_Guru @DeityShe @dancindoti @elliemom26RN @FairUseLBR I am feeling pretty good thanks. Knock on wood, my Non-Hodgkin is in remission. I have to deal with fatigue and ongoing treatment (immunotherapy), but I am not in pain.
@ThanksCancer

[Katie @katievscancer]

Checking in with the Cancer community this evening. How’s everyone doing?

I hope this week is a fun one.😘💜

@andersolofsson5 @poorbabi @A_Research_Guru @DeityShe @dancindoti @elliemom26RN @FairUseLBR

[Mike Linn @TheCancerSutra]

An underrated interaction with people who know about your cancer diagnosis and are willing to talk to you about it:

Them: "Hey, how's it going?"

You: "Well, [insert depressing specifics of cancer]... but it's not so bad. What's new with you?!"

Watching people fumble for a response is hilarious to me. 🤷🏻‍♂️😂

#thankscancer #melanoma #mentalhealth

[Yolie McLaughlin @YolieMclaughlin]

@ThanksCancer @Ale_R_Flaca Good morning all! Let's continue our fight to annihilate cancer!!