In a few days, I will mark the one-year anniversary of my final chemotherapy treatment. And with that, I will bring this blog to a close.
Cancer is in my rear view mirror. I'll always be looking over my shoulder, wondering if it will make a reappearance, but I need to move on. I have better things to do with my life.
I will always be a cancer survivor; that's a title bestowed on me last April when I was declared cancer free. But life is so much more than surviving - and I plan to thrive. As a father, a husband, a son, a brother. For all the nastiness of cancer, mine had made me stronger.
I take very little for granted anymore. Holding my little girl's hand is a treat and a blessing. I can no longer live a life of gluttony and excess, as my family and friends deserve better. I have sought out a more personal connection with my creator, a piece of my life that has been basically missing for many years.
Last fall, fellow Herald blogger Lucy Luginbill (also a cancer thriver) mentioned a book called Anticancer: A New Way of Life by David Servan-Schreiber. The author is a doctor who happened to discover his own brain cancer. After having it removed and seeing it come back (and removed again), Servan-Schreiber decided to find a better way to live. He found that through nutrition, exercise and mindfulness, we can battle cancer before it arrives. I quickly purchased the book, read it and bought six more copies for members of my family. I suspect I've been responsible for another dozen copies being purchased since then.
I'm not normally too much of the preachy type, but I don't want my family and friends to go through my experiences. They don't need a mediport installed in their chests. They don't need toxic chemicals pumped into their bloodstreams. They can do simple things to help decrease their chances of getting cancer, things like eating blueberries or broccoli, drinking green tea, getting a bit more exercise and focusing their minds.
Watch this short video, then go order the book.
I am not diving into every single thing Servan-Schreiber suggests. I am adding a little here and there. This approach has a better chance of me making these more of a lifestyle change rather than a passing fad.
I don't know if my cancer will return. I have to live as though it will. When I don't feel like heading to the court club, I motivate myself by remembering that I'm in a war against cancer every waking moment. That's a good way to get myself off the couch and into Club Max.
This is the end of this blog, but my battle continues.