Cancer sucks. For real, guys. It’s funny that almost a year after my diagnosis, still, the most apt thing anyone has said since learning I got diagnosed has been “Man…that sucks.” I mean, what else do you say, really? Apologizing is kind of silly – it’s nobody’s fault.

There are a million reasons why cancer sucks, and I think I’ve illustrated a bunch in previous posts. See; blood in bowel movements, nausea, losing hair, shaking body parts, nausea, risk of dying, being isolated, nausea, needing chemo, restricted diets, losing touch with friends, nausea, losing weight, inability to work out, nausea, oh, and did I mention constant, persistent nausea? Never mind the fact that my regular headaches become migraines thanks to half the medications I’m on having the side effect of “causes headaches”.

One good thing to come from this whole experience, though, is that I went to a neurologist, who confirmed that they are, in fact, migraines (if not cluster head aches, but the medication is the same for either). This means even after I’m done with my cancer meds, I’ll still be able to get Imitrex prescriptions. And let me tell you, if I ever met the guy or gal that invented imitrex, I would give them the BIGGEST hug. Just. The biggest.

But the funny thing about cancer is just what it steals from you that you never really thought of. I mean, there’s the obvious shit.

Cancer has stolen from me just about 120 days spent entirely in a hospital bed, on top of stealing (to date) about 10 months of my life. It has robbed my mom, father, sister and brother in law of a valuable co-worker, making them sacrifice their time and effort to cover my position at work, as well as having to figure out how to get me to my (many) doctor’s appointments, all while STILL having to cover for my absence.

It’s stolen my previous fitness, hard earned over a year spent in the gym, on the road, and in the pool, 3 to 6 times a week. It has robbed me of holidays spent with my *awesome* family. It robbed me of a girlfriend, though to be honest, I’m kind of thankful for that one. The transplant has robbed me of my entire winter snowboarding season, a birthday, a christmas, a new years, and multiple friend’s birthdays.

Now, I don’t want this to seem like I’m depressed or sad or bitter. Cancer has also given me some absolutely amazing gifts. I’ve rekindled friendships long thought lost to time and distance. I’ve gotten closer to my cousins, aunts, and uncles than I think I’ve ever been in my adult life. I’ve been reached out to by individuals, organizations, and strangers, all telling me what an inspiration I am (which is still weird). Cancer has reaffirmed my philosophy on life; we all get one shot at being happy. Life is too damn short to waste it doing things you hate in the hopes that one day you’ll do something you love. My mom and I have had lots of conversations to that effect. As a breast cancer survivor, my mom certainly has an insight into what I’m going through, especially because she had breast cancer a while ago, back when the treatments weren’t nearly so advanced or well understood. And those conversations usually ended with me saying something along the lines of “We’re all going to get some kind of cancer in our life times – people are just living too long now, and basically everything we eat, breath, or are present around causes cancer of some form or another”. Little did I know.

But the biggest thing I feel like cancer has stolen from me is my voice. Not like, I can’t speak because my throat hurt. Although for a while there, after the transplant, speaking was pretty much the last thing on my mind. No, what I mean is, I don’t seem to know how to talk to people anymore. Now, I’ve never been the smoothest guy around, but I’ve always had the gift of being able to relate to and get along with almost anyone. Now, though, I feel like I’m an awkward teenager all over again. Part of it is because my life has been on actual hold since Halloween, and before Halloween, it was on partial hold. At least before the transplant I was still able to bike outside, visit with friends, and hang out with people. Having to go into forced hibernation has cut me from the flow of my friends lives, and its really difficult to try to get back to normal.

Part of the problem, I think, is that nobody wants to complain to me anymore. I’m used to being the guy that people ask for advice, complain to, or just a good shoulder to cry on. Now, though, it’s as if I have the ultimate trump card for excuses, so nobody wants to complain about anything to me. Which is just silly. A friend of mine they other day was complaining that he was feeling like shit, and while I sympathized with him, I couldn’t help but think “HURRAY NORMALCY”.

On top of which, meeting or talking to new people is an awkward position for both of us. I don’t want to just talk about my cancer, but at the same time, that’s basically the only thing that’s been going on in my life for the last 10 months, so unless you play video games, there’s not much else I can bring up. Plus, being 28, I can’t really explain my living situation without bringing up cancer, because lets face it – I, under no circumstances, want to be living at home at this stage in my life. No offense to my parents, who have been ridiculously awesome hosts, and they have a ridiculously awesome house, and I’m basically staying in a 5 star hotel rent-free. But I’m 28, I’m single, and man, does it chafe to not be alone again. In your life plans, you always assume that you move forward. You live at home when you’re young because you’re lucky to be born with parents that care and can afford you. You go to school, you go to college, and you finish. Maybe you live at home for a while so you can get your feet under you, and then you move out. The next step is supposed to be moving in with a significant other, and starting a life or family with them. It’s not supposed to be moving back to your parents house. No matter how cool their house may be.

On top of that, there’s no way to drop “I had leukemia” on a conversation without it being a complete and utter bombshell that kills basically all topics before and after. Either I seem totally flippant about it, or if I’m serious about it, I feel like I’m oversharing. It’s just funny to me that something I’m so open about in the online world causes so many issues when I try to talk (or not talk) about it with people in the “real world”, as it were. I’ve been trying to write a post like this for a while, but that’s the other bitch about cancer. It steals your motivation, your thoughts, and your ability to connect with the emotions necessary to write honestly. Couple that with blinding migraines, and you have a recipe for avoiding the hell out of writing about feelings.

Compounding the issues is that I want to be open and honest about my experiences with cancer. I hope that someone out there learns something from my suffering, or finds comfort in my humor, or anything else. And I have no problem talking about my disease when people ask. But, in case you couldn’t already tell, I have a tendency to speak (at length) about subjects that I’m knowledgeable in. The last year has basically been a crash course in learning about blood cancers, so much so that I’ve heard “you should just go to med school when you’re done with this” more than once.  But when you meet new people, it’s tough to gauge just how much they actually want to hear about your cancer.

Do they really want to hear about all the GI issues you’ve had to deal with for the last 5 months? (probably not)

Do they really want to know how few minorities are in the national bone marrow donor registry? (maybe)

Do they want to know what it’s like to projectile leak from all orifices? (That’s the politest way to say that..but probably not)

When someone asks me about my experiences, I’m pretty much never at a loss for words. But, I’ve completely lost the ability to tell how much they want to know. I feel like the world’s biggest overshare-er.

That’s why I’m thankful that I have such awesome friends. Sunday was the second day I was able to drive myself to a friend’s house, and play crazy awesome board games all day. While they asked for updates, and we talked about my cancer a little, it was more them showing that they cared how I was doing. But at the end of the day, we were all there to play games, and we had a blast.

I’m thankful for all my video game buddies, as they’ve listened to me bitch and moan about the crap I’ve had to tolerate, and they haven’t even complained when I played terribly because I got a migraine in the middle of a game, or that my tremor got worse randomly, or my bowels suddenly decided that they needed a bathroom break RIGHT NOW.

I’m thankful for all my gchat buddies, who keep me entertained throughout the day (Brit, Gabriella, Walter in particular – you guys send me links, articles, and chat with me, keeping the boredom away).

And I’m obviously thankful for my ridiculously awesome nuclear family, fantastic cousins on both sides, amazing aunts and uncles all over the place, friends of friends, strangers, for just being exactly what I needed when I needed it.

As for the future, the next big milestone is 6 Months Post Transplant. At that point, they do an immune function test. My next appointment is on 5/1, but technically, my anniversary is 5/7. I’m hoping they do the immune function test on 5/1, and not on the next visit, which would be 5/22. Anyway, the test will determine which of 3 possible results I can get:

Super-duper-awesome (but least likely): My immune function test comes back great, they heavily reduce my meds, I’m able to move back to my apartment, go back to work, eat restaurant food (although probably take out, not actually staying in a crowded restaurant yet), and maybe even go to the gym.

Pretty gosh darn swell (I’d say like a 40-50% chance): My immune function test comes back within a normal range for 6 months post transplant. They’re able to slightly reduce some of my immune suppression drugs, and I’m able to go back to work, and move back into my apartment. Restricted diet, restricted crowds, and restricted gym still in effect.

Blegh (30%? chance): My tests come back crappy. Either very slight medication reductions, or none at all, and things stay as they are for a bit longer. Not sure how long, or when they would re-test me. While this would be a super bummer, at least the worst case scenario doesn’t really worsen anything.

Additional good news is that none of these cases include worsening of my prognosis. So no matter what the test shows, my bone marrow is still doing great.