Frank’s Cancer Story: Coping with Cancer…

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Doing What You Must

On those days when I’m not in pain, not exhausted and weak, when my mood is pretty positive, when I have something to look forward to…

… when I’m not stressed about a symptom, not giving a blood or urine sample, not worried about a test result, not having an infusion, not ordering or picking up a prescription, not prepping for a procedure, not having a procedure, not recovering from a procedure, not having a skin biopsy, not having a bone marrow biopsy, not having a liver biopsy, not waiting for a pathology report, not waiting for a wound to heal or have sutures removed, not having an ultrasound, X-ray, MRI, CT, or PET scan, not having an EKG, not having an endoscopy, cystoscopy, or colonoscopy, not having a radiation treatment, not being chemically castrated, not prepping for surgery, not having a surgery, not recovering from a surgery, not being catheterized, not managing side effects, not treating an opportunistic infection, not having a stent or nephrostomy installed or removed, not ruminating about a difficult decision, not paying medical bills, not scheduling my next slew of doctor appointments, not dealing with schedule conflicts, not getting my affairs in order, and not battling the sometimes mindless and heartless bureaucracy of the healthcare system… the last thing I want to do is be a patient.

The last thing I want to do is play doctor by obsessing over the latest research on my disease and treatments.

The last thing I want to do is be a poster child.

The last thing I want to do is be a Medical Aid in Dying advocate.

The last thing I want to do is be a healthcare legislation lobbyist.

The last thing I want to do is be a patient’s rights activist.

The last thing I want to do is be a Medicare for all advocate.

The last thing I want to do is be a cancer celebrity.

The last thing I want to do is write about cancer.

The last thing I want to do is talk about cancer. (unless I really do want to talk about my experience)

Alas, I never want to do these things, but often feel like I have to do these things.

Such is yet another burden on top of the already overwhelming burden of being an advanced cancer patient.

So, as much as I’d like to be a patient only when I have to… and to not be a patient when I can… doing so is so much easier said than done.

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Seeing a Counselor

Years ago, when my diagnosis and prognosis took one of its major turns for the worse, my oncologist asked me about my emotional state of mind.

I told him I was “managing, considering.”

But I wondered: How am I supposed to feel?

How is anyone supposed to feel?

He specifically asked if I was depressed.

Anyway, I responded by saying that I didn’t think I was depressed. Although I had my moments wondering how hard I’d be willing to fight to stay alive, I wasn’t giving up. Neither did I feel sorry myself. I simply accepted my circumstances, no matter how unpleasant those circumstances might be. And my behaviors in response to have a life-limiting illness and all the physical and emotional trauma that entails all seemed quite rational. How could I be depressed?

Only in retrospect do I realize how overwhelmed I was. Call that state of mind what you will. Flooded with emotions I didn’t even know were possible. Emotions that had no names. Words like depression, anxiety, and stress do them no justice. I still fail to find the language to describe the thoughts that hijack your brain and feelings that invade your muscles, bones, heart, and stomach against your will… sometimes even in your sleep.

Anyway, my oncologist told me I was depressed–even if I didn’t think I was–and referred me to a counselor.

And so I went.

IMPORTANT NOTE from Frank: Everything you read here is based on my and only my experiences and circumstances. Nothing here should be read as a criticism, judgement, or rejection of counseling, psychotherapy, or anti-depressant and anti-anxiety medications.

My therapist was a nice enough fellow, but it took only two sessions for me to realize that there’s nothing he could do for me. Not because he lacked empathy or competence, but because I had no issues to work through. I’m not bragging here. I credit this to decades of life lessons learned the hard way and the hard work of getting my shit together. In other words, aligning my thinkings, feelings, and doings with reality.

I wasn’t angry.

I wasn’t in denial.

I wasn’t bargaining.

I wasn’t feeling sorry for myself.

Because I never felt like “it” couldn’t happen to me. It’s just genetics. Luck of the draw. It’s how the universe works. Not to make light of things, but in a phrase it is what it is.

I never felt the need for or interest in trying anti-depressants or anti-anxiety meds. I wanted to feel the full force of my emotions without trying to mask them with tranquilizers.

Neither did I feel the the need for a support group. Because the last thing I wanted to do when I wasn’t being a cancer patient is be a cancer patient.

If there’s a word to describe the most painful emotion throughout this journey, it’s grief: grief for my lost virility, strength, and energy, grief for lost “friends”, grief for the loss of everything I used to be, grief for every opportunity to pluck the day denied, and grief for every future I could no longer dream about or commit to.

And I realized there was only way to keep on keeping on: I had to reinvent myself.

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Coping with Cancer: Reinvention (coming soon)

coming hopefully mid May 2026

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