My REAL concern, however, is when the giving up, the sitting by the side of the road, is done when it comes to life and death. I think this has become somewhat of a recurring theme on this blog, but I think that's because it is a subject that is so near and dear to me. It also happens to be a subject that we take for granted more often than we would like to admit. What amazes me is that people tell me that somehow I'm amazing because of what I have to go through in fighting cancer.
That sounds silly to me. And it sounds silly because the assumption made by calling me amazing is that by fighting as hard as I can against my disease, I am somehow doing something different than what most people would do in the same situation. It is amazing for me to believe that anybody else in my position would NOT display the same fighting mentality as I. That is, I expect that they WOULD fight just as hard as I am fighting. If that's true, then what I am doing can hardly be said to be amazing; rather, it should be considered the norm. I understand if someone wants to connote that my reaction to my disease, although normal for anyone in a similar situation, is not normal because most people do not experience that situation. In that case I would classify my struggle as respectable, not amazing or inspiring. Any man who choose to sit himself down on the side of the road when the path in front of him is a choice between life and death is the one who is amazing to me. The man who chooses life rather than death, and to keep pushing forward no matter what the difficulties are is the man who is smart, logical, normal though not amazing, inspirational, or extraordinary.
(Before moving to the next topic I want to post a disclaimer stating that each individual cancer patient experiences even the same cancer in drastically different way, just as multiple individuals can experience the same event in dramatically different ways. As such, my opinions here are geared more towards the willingness to accept defeat, rather than an inquisition or assessment as to the relative difficulty to the particular people mentioned below).
It is also amazing to me the number of public figures who publicly announce their unwillingness to continue with cancer treatments. For instance, Farrah Fawcett, an extremely well known "actress" and individual, has had a difficult battle with cancer. Originally, she was diagnosed at the end 2006 and after chemotherapy treatments and radiation, she was declared cancer-free in the beginning of 2008, roughly a year and a half. When she was told that she had a malignant polyp return, she responded saying that she no longer wished to deal with the difficulties of treatment. Or Patrick Swayze, who was diagnosed in in January 2008, has experienced the spreading of his cancer to critical areas of the body by the end of 2008. It was reported that he, his wife, and his doctors believed that the countdown towards death had already begun. In response to the news, it is reported that Swayze has begun saying his goodbyes to family and friends ahead of what he believes is his imminent death.
I don't mean to scare those who care about me, but over the last two years and nine months, I have both been told that various areas of my cancer have returned or gotten worse and that my already aggressive, deadly cancer had spread to more critical areas of my body. I have been told on more than one occasion that I was on my road to death. I do not say this to bolster myself or to indict Fawcett or Swayze; I am only saying it to explain that bad news is a part of cancer. Reaction to the bad news makes all the difference.
Don't call me amazing. Don't call me a hero. Don't call me an inspiration.
Just call me what you have all always called me: a stubborn kid who hated to lose at anything.
I don't plan to start losing now. Just know, though, that you don't have to lose either...