It’s been a month since my oncologist released me from his care after 10 years of being a cancer survivor under surveillance.
It was and still is an epic gift for which I am profoundly grateful. I made it past milestones too many colorectal cancer patients don’t see: two years without a recurrence, then five years, now ten.
The chance of recurrence in my body of my particular type of aggressive adenocarcinoma has dropped from 95 percent within the first five years after initial diagnosis to less than one percent now.
The emotion of that moment with Dr. Chism is still relatively fresh. After nearly 11 years of life in Cancerland I’ve been set free.
Let me be clear here: I will always, always be an advocate for cancer patients, survivors and their families. The freedom of which I speak is that of not feeling the Sword of Damocles swinging over my head. To torture the metaphor, the rope was cut and the sword clattered harmlessly across the floor.
That’s what I mean by free.
With that sense of freedom comes questions, though.
- Who am I without my annual oncology appointments to check off every year?
- What does life look like without the threat of a recurrence hanging over my head?
- What do you do when life suddenly feels limitless?
Limitless?
In Cancerland, there are always limits. Before December 21, my new favorite day of the year, my life was pretty well defined by annual surveillance appointments. During those appointments, I would say I got my lease renewed.
There was no vision beyond the next lease renewal because there were too many what ifs. Life was limited to the next 12 months because, what if this is the year a scan lights up, my CEA level jumps precipitously, or the weird digestive symptoms that led me to my original diagnosis kick in again? What if I have to start chemo again, or radiation, or have another surgery? What if there is a recurrence and this time it’s terminal?
You can’t plan long-term for a life lived one year at a time. In our coaching/annual review process at work, once a year we’re asked typical job interview/annual review question. What are your short-term goals? Where do you see yourself in three to five years? What’s your long-term goal for your life?
Before this year, I answered those questions with somewhat expected answers, but the answer in my head and heart was always, “I just want to be alive.” (I did this process again a couple week ago, in a post Cancerland world my answers kicked ass!)
There were lots of maybes.
Maybe go on vacation.
Maybe write a second book.
Maybe launch my own podcast.
What if I get sick again and can’t finish what I started?
Even my health and fitness journey has been somewhat limited since my diagnosis. Yes, I’ve done some amazing things: owned a gym for a short time, walked a marathon three years after diagnosis, completed a handful of half marathons, finished two Spartan Sprints. Lost and gained the same 20 to 30 pounds.
I was limiting myself. I can’t get too healthy because look what happened last time.
I lost 100 pounds in the two years before my diagnosis. I worked and ran my ass off to lose that weight and was pretty damned happy in that place.
And then there was the diagnosis. I’m convinced that because I was eating healthy and taking care of myself I was attuned to the signals my body was sending. The funky digestive symptoms, the blood in the toilet.
Something was wrong and with God’s help, the support of loved ones, and an incredible medical team I kicked cancer’s ass. In the process I gained back every one of those damned 100 pounds. And a few of their friends. I didn’t experience nausea and vomiting like a lot of cancer patients do. And the nutritionist at my medical center encouraged me to eat whatever I could tolerate.
She all but yelled into a bullhorn, “Hey fat kid! Take the keys to the bakery! Enjoy!”
The only foods I couldn’t tolerate were those involving cilantro and cumin. The smell of Mexican food made me queasy. I missed about a year of tacos and burritos, which I made up for with pasta, noodle casseroles and pastries.
While I’ve wanted to get back to my pre-cancer weight, I limited myself. On the one hand I’d tell myself and others I need to be in fighting shape so that if cancer comes back I’m physically ready to kick it’s ass again. On the other hand, I’d tell myself it’s coming back and will probably take me out this time so why bother getting all the way to goal when this here burger with a bourbon chaser tastes so damned good.
I didn’t/haven’t talked about this because then I’d have to admit to myself that I put limits on what I thought I could do. Cancer patients and survivors aren’t supposed to talk about limits. We’re supposed to emanate positivity and sunshine out of our assholes even when medium-sad and seriously sad things are happening in our heads.
Being freed from my oncologist’s care, though, resets the table. For the first time since March 27, 2012, life really does feel limitless.
Limitless?
That’s the word that resonated with my heart and soul this weekend during the first-ever Clean Eatz We Change Livez Challenge Retreat.
I have been a customer and fan of Clean Eatz for about six years. I became a customer for the convenience of having meals prepared and ready to pop in the microwave every night rather than cooking late dinners after surviving the inevitable painful daily traffic out of Oak Ridge. I became a fan because the food is delicious, and the company, franchisees and customers are out to improve their health and the health of their communities.
Being at the retreat was like a family reunion. I walked in late on Friday and was welcomed by so many amazing and inspiring people whom I have followed online because of the annual We Change Livez challenge. The WCL Facebook group is a place where we post photos of our workouts, share our stories including challenges and successes, and where we encourage and inspire each other.
Meeting these friends in real life was truly like a family reunion. It was a thrill and a joy to meet and hug them all.
Wendell. Julius. Cherise. Nicole. Ed. Courtney. Jessika. Josh. Will. And all the new people I met during this weekend.
And, of course, none of this would possible without founders of this feast and the company, Don and Evonne Varady. They give the best hugs and I’m so proud to support their company, and to support Neal, Maggie and Emily Gartrell, my friends who are also the local franchise owners.
Wearing my marketing and public relations hat, I’ve been reading lately about the need for companies to form community around their brands. Building community is said to be the new frontier for brands. Clean Eatz is a company that is doing this right. Organically. Authentically. All you have to do is look at the fact that more than 50 people ponied up to attend an event in North Carolina this past weekend to see that what Clean Eatz is killing it. The CE community is important, and I want to write more about this, but for the moment I digress.
My heart and soul needed this past weekend. On a practical levels, it’s helped me firm up my goals for the year and has energized me for the new challenge that starts in February 1. On a soul level, it satisfied in a different way.
I’ve written before about the healing effects of being near water. A retreat at an oceanfront hotel was marvelous. The weather was chilly and the sky gray, but the sound of the rolling waves still soothes and reminds me of my baptism, as water always does.
Even yesterday morning’s cold plunge into the 46-degree outdoor pool was a baptismal reminder. You read that right. The pool was 46 degrees. Bracing cold, and I’m damned proud of those of us who took the leap.
That plunge, and the step into the indoor heated pool afterward were reminders that I am a beloved child of God and I am limitless. There is nothing I can’t do, and I am worth the investment of time and treasure necessary to become the healthiest possible version of me.
It’s time to focus on my goals for the year, and I hate to even put that time stamp on them but here they are:
- Once and for all get back to 290 pounds, my pre-cancer weight. I’m at 350.2 per last week’s weigh-in at Weight Watchers.
- Get my body fat percentage below 20 percent. I’m at 28.8 percent according to my latest InBody scan at Nutrishop Knoxville.
- Challenge myself physically with events like this weekend’s Deka Strong and 75 Hard.
After spending the weekend doing two-a-day workouts, being challenged with mindset shifts and being supported and loved on by the amazing people at this retreat, I am energized.
All excuses fell away in that cold water plunge.
All doubts that I can push myself fell away during Sunday’s Mission Fit workout. That was one hell of a workout, and I loved every minute of it.
I am limitless.
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