Monday, December 31, 2018

Some Year-End Thoughts

It's the last day of 2018, and I was hoping to have something really great for you to end the year.

Maybe a look at some Follicular Lymphoma research from this month? I have seen a couple of things out there, but let's just say that they weren't really something I wanted to end the year with. Maybe I'll get to them in a few weeks.

I thought about doing a "best of" column, like I did one year. But honestly, that's a lot of work, and I haven't had the time or energy lately to do it.

So what I think I'm going to do is just unload a few thoughts I've had lately about being an FL patient (you don't really want to hear my thoughts about other parts of life and the world, I'm sure).

  • I'm almost finished with Year 10 as a Follicular Lymphoma patient. I'll celebrate my 11th diagnosiversary in a few weeks. As I've said before, my 10th year was a special one, because when I was diagnosed, the Overall Survival rate was considered to be 8-10 years. So getting to year 11 really means something. The OS is closer to 20 years now, so I look forward to chasing that milestone, too. It's good news for all of us -- FL is still incurable, but we have made great progress in the last 10 years.
  • I have a new oncologist, and I am very happy about that. I like him, which is important. But just as important is that he seems like someone that I will be able to see for many years. That stability matters to me, and probably to lots of cancer patients. There is so much up in the air for us -- knowing that we'll see the same doctor is important. I'm glad I found one that I like.
  • I'm happy to be writing more. Not so much on the blog, but in other places. I love you all, and I won't ever stop writing here. But it's really satisfying to be able to reach some new people, and get a positive response from them. Writing for Blood-Cancer.com and Lymphoma News Today has been great. It's a different kind of writing -- a little more restrictive. The great thing about the blog is that I can write whatever I want. No word count targets or Search engine Optimization issues to worry about. That said, it's nice to hear positive feedback, no matter what the venue or who the reader.
  • I'm excited about Immunotherapy in its many forms. The journal Science named Immunotherapy its "Breakthrough of the Year for 2013." That was a good choice -- it's only gotten more important in the 5 years since then. There have been a bunch of Immunotherapies approved for FL or in trials that seem to be doing well. My new oncologist was excited about a couple of them -- CAR-T and Bispecifics. There are a bunch of others, too, and they all attempt to use the body's own immune system to fight cancer cells. We'll see more of that in the next few years, I'm sure, along with some other non-chemotherapy treatments.
I'm looking forward to the new year. Lots of changes for me. I've experienced some loss over the last year, and that will make things hard. But my youngest child go off to college in a few months (she got into her number 1 choice -- yeah!), and that will bring some new challenges and opportunities to me and my wife.

I've always tried to look to the future with hope. It's just part of my natural disposition, I guess. Some people look to the future, and tell themselves stories about what might happen, and their stories focus on the bad things. When I tell my stories, I always focus on the good things. I am always the hero of my own story.  What's the point of telling it, otherwise?

I hope you all have an excellent 2019. Be sure to stop by -- I'll be here.

Tuesday, December 25, 2018

Peace

As many of you know, today is a day when many people around the world celebrate Christmas. In the last few years, I've been writing on this day to wish everyone peace. "Peace on Earth" is a traditional Christmas saying, and as cancer patients, we could all use some peace.

It's been kind of a rough year for me. My own health was pretty good, but I lost my dad to cancer a couple of months ago. That put a bit of a cloud over things. At the same time, though, I was able to see him a lot. He lived two hours away, and I drove up to spend the day with him  once a week. That helped bring me some peace.

As my 11 year diagnosiversary approaches, I've been thinking a lot about that balance -- there is so much to take away our peace, we need to find ways to achieve some.

For many Follicualr Lymphoma patients, peace comes on the day when they realize that they made it through a day without thinking about cancer. It can be such an all-consuming thing, even for those of us who have an indolent, slow-growing type. And for many, they wake up one day and they can't remember thinking about cancer the day before. It's a beautiful thing.

I don't think I've ever had one of those days. Most mornings, I check in with the online support group that joined almost 11 years ago. At about 9 or 10 in the morning, I get a Google Alert email with links to articles about FL. At some point, I check Twitter, and while many people get fun tweets from the Kardashians or other favorite celebrities, my Twitter feed is filled with stuff from Rock Star oncologists and other cancer advocates. And many days, I'm working on a blog post or an article for Blood-Cancer.com or Lymphoma News Today. I don't think I've had a day in nearly 11 years when I didn't think about cancer at least once.

And, weirdly, for me, that brings peace.

For many people, a day without thinking about cancer is an excellent day. For others, finding a way to push those thoughts away is the goal. For me, it's wrestling those thoughts to the ground and sitting on them and looking them right in the eye. That's the balance. That's the peace.

So wherever you are on your cancer path -- a hardened veteran or newly diagnosed and scared -- I hope you have discovered that things that give you balance, the things that give you peace.