To the Newly Diagnosed

Letters to my patients, day 3

Photo by Will Swann on Unsplash

A fog has rolled into your mind, settling heavily — nothing is clear anymore.

They say it’s cancer. Cancer.

I’m only 34. Or 68 … or 24 … or 8.

Age is but a number, cancer doesn’t care. It shows up when least expected, which leaves a lot of time for it to choose from.

No one prepares you for this. High schools don’t offer a class called “Healthcare 101: dealing with a life-defining illness.” Though, like teaching us more about our tax system, maybe they should consider it.

It is possible you watched a family member deal with cancer or even pass away from it. If that’s what scares you the most — thinking about going through what they did — then you are not alone. That is a common fear. But we are getting ahead of ourselves. You don’t need more information, you need to digest what you have already been told.

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What even is cancer?

Uncontrolled cell growth.

Our body is made up of millions and millions of cells — and it continues to make more. A healthy cell has a set lifetime to perform its job, and then it dies. A cancer cell is just a normal cell striving for immortality. If you have enough cells living forever, they will build up and form masses, crowding out healthy cells.

This can happen anywhere — in the lymph nodes, breasts, colon, prostate, brain, lungs, bone marrow.

There are many other layers to what causes cancer, where it occurs, how it develops resistance, what treatment is best for which type. That is for your oncologist to worry about (or you can nerd out here if it helps you feel better). For now, just focus on your case.

It’s okay not to remember everything from that first visit. Medical jargon takes time to become familiar with. I will include common definitions at the end, if you are curious. During these initial visits, take a few notes or jot down questions to ask later. Bring a friend for a second set of ears. Sometimes medical providers get used to talking about the same thing everyday and forget that you have a different area of expertise — but you are allowed to ask for explanations here.

Deep breaths.

So you know it’s cancer. Now what?

I could give you a checklist of to-do’s, but that’s not what I am here for (we’ll save that for another newsletter if there’s interest).

You are facing a cancer diagnosis — what you need most is a heartwarming beverage, a quiet corner with a friend or in peaceful solitude, and the space to just be.

Deep breaths.

The information will eventually sink in and you will start to understand the diagnosis and all that entails. For now, just breathe.

Your world is forever changed. Grieving for the “life before cancer” is natural, not always linear but definitely an active process.

My kids will always see me differently. I will be the parent with cancer.

Will I ever enjoy holidays again? I really like hosting big parties, but maybe that is over.

Will I lose my hair? I shouldn’t care, but I do (also, you are allowed to care about that).

I want to see my grandkids graduate college.

What if I am sick forever?

Cancer robs people of so many things in life. It’s okay to be mad, frustrated, angry. Sit with your feelings. Give them space to be felt. I am sorry this is happening to you.

When the evening chill settles into the yard, the coffee mug sits empty, the blanket around your shoulders is no longer keeping you warm — go inside. Sit on the couch next to your spouse, child, or pet. And just be.

Let go of the stress of the unknowns, answers will come with time.

Let go of the fears of tomorrow, today had enough fear of its own.

Let go of the expectations you placed on your life, things will look different.

Let go of the anxiety that you did something wrong, it’s not helpful to beat yourself up.

Let go of the big picture, focus on what is in-front of you right now.

In this moment, take what you need:

Nobody has it all figured out. I will take it one step at a time.

I can mourn the losses, what cancer has taken from me. It is not fair for anyone.

I will let go of the fears of tomorrow, today had enough fear of its own.

Sometimes all I need is a warm cup of tea and a listening ear.

Answers will come in time, I will let go of stressing about the unknown.

Life will look different now and that is okay.

Eventually, you will begin to see a way through the fog.

Thank you for being here,

This is part of a 31-day series of letters to my patients — those undergoing a work-up, diagnosis, or treatment for cancer. Topics are also focused on those caregiving and supporting individuals affected by cancer. This is not an easy journey, but you do not have to do it alone.

Definitions from the NCI (National Cancer Institute)

Malignant: Cancer, uncontrolled cell growth.

Benign: A tumor (lump of tissue cells) that is not cancerous. These do not spread.

Metastasis: Cancerous cells that spread to or invaded other parts of the body. These cells are still from the “original site.” (Example breast cancer that metastasized to the liver are still cancerous breast cells, still breast cancer, just located in the liver).

Staging: reflects how far the cells have grown or spread.

Chemotherapy: A cancer treatment that kills cells.

Immunotherapy: A cancer treatment that helps your immune system fight off cancer.

Targeted therapy: A cancer treatment that targets specific features of a cell to stop it from growing or spreading.

Genetic mutations: Changes in the genes that decide how cells grow, function, and spread. Some, but not all, are passed from parent to child (hereditary).

Questions to ask your team

More on Complimentary and Alternative medicine

Specific medication information by name

Information about treatment costs

This is not medical advice — please consult your healthcare team for individual medical expertise.