I Have Already Survived
How a lifelong relationship with death and depression prepared me to navigate my unconventional cancer journey.
My first direct exposure to death came at 7 years old. It was Christmas. My uncle Stan was in his mid-thirties and had been out in the cold doing something charitable. He, my father and all their siblings were born with a rare congenital condition which had been treated by surgically removing their spleens, leaving their immune systems compromised.
Stan caught pneumonia that holiday season and died. Everyone said he was so young, but back then being thirty-something still felt old to me. Less than one month later, my paternal grandfather, Robert, joined his son Stan in death. Lung cancer was to blame.
In third grade, I found out one of my classmates had also been born with a life threatening condition which was treated by surgery in his infancy. He played little league football and once chased me off a high dive by threatening to touch me with his booger-clad finger. He’d been in class, goofing off, right up until the time he wasn’t. Then, the condition he carried flared.
He was hospitalized. Everyone in our class made cards for him. And he died. He hadn’t even reached double-digits yet, confirming definitively for me and my friends that…
