Surviving, Not Inspiring

A friend from high school made the mistake recently of telling me in an email that I inspired her. Although I tried to be gentle because she couldn’t have known, I replied with firmness that I really don’t like to be called an inspiration.

It was two years ago that I was undergoing chemotherapy for testicular cancer. Most everyone who knows me says that I approached chemo with a great attitude and unbelievable strength.

They were right about my attitude. I was extremely optimistic and upbeat about chemo, and I had good reason. The urologist who diagnosed my cancer, the oncologist who treated me, and an oncological nurse who is also a good friend all confirmed that my particular form of cancer was curable. The chemo protocol that I was facing has a 90 percent success rate. I liked my chances.

I tried to keep a positive attitude during chemo, which was a three-month ordeal. I got infusions of two drugs every day for five days, then two weeks off, then another five-day week of infusions. I was getting a third drug administered every Tuesday for nine weeks.

As I was about to start chemo, some friends told me I should write about the experience as it was happening. Keep a blog, they said. I actually attempted to do just that. I still have the notes from the first couple of days of chemo. Absolutely nothing was happening, and I wondered what the big deal was.

Then the fourth day came along. On that day, two chemo drugs hit me like a runaway train. I was tired; no, I was exhausted. I hit a level of fatigue that I truly didn’t know existed. A day later, I felt worse. On the day after my first five-day infusion week, I hit the jackpot: I was exhausted, weak, nauseated and I had chills. I felt horrible and, with my wife working that day, I got to feel it all by myself.

In addition to those symptoms, which my oncologists and the nursing staff had warned me about, I was extremely emotional. I burst into tears for no reason at all, at the oddest times.

I was sure at that moment that I had made the right decision by not starting a blog. I wouldn’t have been able to accurately describe just how horrible I felt. Two years later, I still haven’t found the words that truly describe the complete absence of strength and vitality that chemo caused.

These days I feel strong and I haven’t shown any signs of tumors for a year and a half. I’m grateful for cancer research and for the dedication of the medical professionals who specialize in oncology. But I don’t feel like an inspiration.

I feel like a survivor. And that’s more than enough for me.