The Scary Thing About cancer Blogs

Being able to write about my experiences with cancer is a blessing. (No, it really is. Read on.).

Why? While all of us have to face our mortality one way or another, cancer has this dastardly way of ruining your day––because it's such a deadly disease today could be the day cancer wins over your life. No life, no posts. There are many who stop blogging because they have stopped breathing. And sometimes, they just loose interest. Run out of things to write. Move on to other endeavors. The weird thing is, how do you know?

One of the first connections with the cancer blog community––and it's a big one, people––I made was with Dennis and his blog, Being Cancer, which has been a source of inspiration and information that has really helped me. (If you peek to the right of this post and scroll down just a bit, you'll also see Being Cancer listed as one of the blogs I follow.).

Dennis "found me" and this blog and sent me an email. He wanted to feature one of my posts on his blog. Cool. Happy to do it. Share the love, pain, stories and inner-most thoughts of a cancer survivor. Hell yeah. This made me feel connected to so many people, even if I never get to "meet" them in this viral world or face-to-face. (Does that happen anymore?). But now I'm worried about Dennis. He hasn't posted in a few weeks. Dennis was diagnosed with T-PLL, a rare aggressive form of chronic lymphocytic leukemia (CLL), in 2001. Had a bone marrow transplant in 2004. And tons of other treatments and cancer-related issues since. (Visit the link above for more info.).

Now I could send Dennis an email. I could. But what if he doesn't answer? What if he can't answer? What if he never answers?

That's the scary part.

More Than A Blog?

It was a year ago, almost to the day, that I started posting. Yeah, amazing.

When I decided to start my blog, I did so with very little expectation and even less encouragement. A colleague of mine––who will go unnamed––discouraged me TWICE when I approached this person about blogging. I was seeking advice and hoping for a little boost to get me going. I received this response: "it's a LOT of work. I'm not sure you can keep it up." And this nugget: "you have to understand how social media works." At the time, I was still feeling the side effects from cancer on a daily basis––extremely dry mouth, chemo brain and very little muscle tone and strength––and trying to kick start my creative juices, as I was beating my head against the wall trying to do great work at my job and I really, really needed to create something that I would be proud to share.

As I walked through the process of beginning my blog––which was made sooooo easy because of the people at blogger.com––I had to write a brief profile of myself. And I despise writing about myself, my accomplishments and my contributions. (This subject is for another post). But I did manage to write this, "I'm your average person. I'm married with four children and two grandchildren. I get up every day and go to work just like millions of other people. I do want to end cancer in my lifetime. By sharing my experiences, thoughts and relationships I hope in some small way that others may benefit."

Thanks to those of you who read my ramblings, one or two people have expressed how much they enjoy reading my blog. How it has helped them smile again. Understand what their loved one is going through. Know what's going on in the head of a person who has cancer––at least my head. And thanks to all of you who inspire me to keep writing, I will continue. Because as I have found out, this has become more than words on a computer screen. This is my outlet. My comfort zone. My connection to others, so I can keep in touch. I also feel very lucky to have lived long enough to have a year of posts under my belt. 

Has this blog been a lot of work? No. A lot of love. Hope. And personal satisfaction. 

Swine Flu

Think you've been freaked out enough already?

I was in NoCal over the weekend and on Monday for a new business pitch. As new business pitches go, I spent a lot of time with the team––Jeff, Jennifer, Rachel and Emily––getting good and ready for the presentation. Which means a lot of time in front of a computer, staring at power point (my God, when we will ever get rid of power point) decks and discussing the topics of the day. Which meant seeing a TON of coverage regarding the Swine Flu. The Swine Flu––now there's a catchy name––received so much coverage it was almost as exhausting as the NFL Draft on ESPN. I'm always amazed at the way the press handles statistics in regards to human life. Over 2,000 infected in Mexico. Fourteen cases in California. One death in the United States. These are not just numbers––these are people, plus the people who are now scared to death they will catch the Swine Flu from the infected.

After zig-zagging our way through the airport on our way back east, our pitch team sat down for some food. Along the way, we saw people with surgical masks. People watching the news at the bars. Newspapers with Swine Flu headlines in the hands of passengers. Even as we sat and ate our food, the TV was swine fluing the news. We were surrounded. So I did the only thing I could do––I people watched. I watched the looks of fright, uncertainty and nervousness on their faces. Those that had the masks, they were being stared at with amazement and recognition that this was serious. I decided to bring some levity to the situation to our tired and road-weary group.

"I can't help but sit here and think that after all I've been through the last 2 years, wouldn't it be a bitch if I caught the Swine Flu and THAT'S what killed me?" I started to chuckle, so the group wouldn't feel uncomfortable and say, "through all the radiation, the chemo and the medications and side effects, a pig does me in." They laughed. I laughed. And while it's no laughing matter, it did put things into perspective for me. I'm still prone to infection, no matter how much crap they put into my body in order to fight cancer. I could catch the Swine Flu on my flight––that's recycled air we breath up there, right?––or even worse, pass it on to my family back home.

Fighting and surviving cancer has taught me many things. But one of the most important things is knowing what I can and can't control. I can control my hygiene habits. I can't control others and make them wash their hands or sneeze into their sleeves. I can get rest, eat well and be happy every day. I can't fight what I can't see. I also learned that time is the most precious thing we have. Never take it for granted. Spend time wisely.

That's what keeps ME from freaking out. No matter what the news.