Ted, here’s my story. I was initially diagnosed Stage 2 and then during treatment, was diagnosed as Stage 4. My oncologist, a 70 year old oracle from Stanford, said it was “the most bizarre case he had ever seen in his career” (not helpful). Another asshole radiologist said it was “not the worst case he had seen but really, really bad” and said I had a “5% chance of survival.” I had 4 needles in my left arm when he told me this and felt sick like I’ve never felt since. Not helpful!
When I was Stage 2, I loved hearing stories about survivors at the time. It gave me inspiration to see what I would look like when I got through it. When I was Stage 4, there was no such stories. It was really depressing and lonely. Finally after 3–4 months, I got introduced to another patient named Brad (an Asian dude bro just like me btw!) who was Stage IV and got through it. He It meant everything to me. I still remember where we met — Stanford Shopping Mall, right in front of the Macy’s at that ‘French cafe.’
That was 1994. The whole thing is a distant memory for me. Some moments stick out in time. Meeting Brad was one such moment. He was the only role model I had.
If I can indulge, this post resonates so deeply. I hated when people told me to “keep fighting” and “you’ll get through this.” Especially the second line…when inside I was telling myself that the world’s expert in lymphoma had just said I was the most “bizarre case he had ever seen” and I knew my odds. I hated when people chided me for being depressed because of the “mind-body connection” and that I should always “stay positive.” Thanks for sharing this. It applies to every situation in life where you need to listen and not wait-to-talk-or-react.
We have many common friends and I would love to connect someday.
