We’re at the beginning of Adolescent & Young (AYA) Adult Cancer Awareness Week 2022. This is the third year I can celebrate this week, if you even want to call it a “celebration”. I don’t think anyone celebrates a cancer diagnosis or living with the disease, much less going through it before the age of 40. For those of us who are AYAs, this is a week when we’re reminded we aren’t alone in this journey. We’re a group of young people who are trying to live our lives while literally trying to live our lives.
Last week I submitted an article to Elephants & Tea for their online publication. I’m proud of myself for taking that step and will of course post the link to the publication when I have it, but until then you can read my submission later in this post.
This post can’t only be about cancer. Cancer doesn’t define me. It doesn’t define any AYA. Grief, happiness, & experiences also define me. In the past couple weeks, I’ve experienced the death of a family member, temporary loss of vision, and extreme confusion. But I’ve also experienced playing Minecraft with my four-year-old nephew who blows me away daily with his creativity, listening to my three-month-old nephew giggle and experience the joy his little smile brings to me, watching Marvel fully recover from heartworm treatment and become active and so much happier, as well as many other wonderful things. I choose to believe that life in general is good and good always wins in the end. Sometimes
it’s hard to see, but it’s what I choose to believe regardless. The power of thought and belief is incredible!
I’m literally breaking every single SEO rule with this post so it’s not going to rank high enough for it to be found organically. If you know an AYA survivor or patient, please share this with them. It’s important for them (and you) to know that openness and conversation help.
My submission is below. If you’ve gone through any type of grief, not necessarily cancer, I’m sure you can relate in some way.
Dear Young [er] Sam,
I want you to remember that you’re a heartfelt and passionate woman. When things get hard, taking a deep breath really does help. Sometimes you just need five minutes away from the situation to get a handle on it. Also, remember to grieve.
You’re taking on a lot, way more than you feel is fair, in order to be successful. You don’t feel like grieving is an option because there is too much work to be done. Before you know it, you’ll enter your 30’s. You always planned to have things more together by 30. Maybe not completely together, but at least a little more figured out. You’re about to be blindsided.
When you’re 29, your dad, who’s typically the person to make difficult situations better, dies unexpectedly. You’ll be strong for your mom and then you’ll go back to work and life as if nothing happened. Other than a moment of sadness at the memorial, you won’t cry or grieve his death.
Less than a year later you’ll go to the dermatologist about some itching concerns and have a mole removed. Before you know it, you’re having multiple surgeries done and entering treatment for melanoma during a worldwide pandemic. No one can accompany you to your appointments. Everyone will be afraid they’ll make you sick by visiting so
they don’t. You’ll be alone during the early stages of this fight. None of those things will bother you though because you have your success to worry about. There is no time to grieve for a cancer diagnosis. Treat it and move on.
Before you know it, you’ll be sitting in the floor of a cold shower crying and won’t be able to tell your husband what’s wrong. This is the start of a marriage filled with tension and the inability to understand one another.
You’ll want your dad in this moment more than you ever have in your entire life. He isn’t there though. You’ll begin to grieve his death and your cancer diagnosis simultaneously. Those are big emotions that you have no experience handling because you never took the time to have emotions before now.
“This can’t be right”, you’ll think. “I overcame so many obstacles to get to this point in my life, I can’t lose my dad and get cancer within a year”.
It’s all happening. It’s real. However, it’s not the end of the world. You must fight hard. It won’t be fun or easy, but new doors will open. You’ll find yourself in a way you never knew possible. You’ll be introduced to some of the most important people in your life who make you laugh like you didn’t know possible and they’ll give the best hugs ever. Hugs that’ll make you forget all the bad stuff. With time, you’ll learn crying can be helpful and necessary.
During this journey, you’ll realize that just because treatment ends doesn’t mean cancer ends. You’ll receive more diagnoses along the way that make you high risk for reoccurrence. It’s okay to be mad. This wasn’t the life you planned. As crazy as it sounds, it’s the life you needed. This incredibly difficult experience makes you a stronger person. That doesn’t mean any of this is fair or you deserved it, but these are the cards you were dealt, and you use them to make yourself a little better every day.
Cry today. Be mad at cancer. Be mad that you lost your dad. Just be mad. Don’t bottle up your emotions because they’re real and deserve space. Let people in who want to help. Be vulnerable. Don’t wait for your world to come crashing down to learn
that lesson.
Trust me, you’ll get through this.
Love me,
Sam, age 32,
stage III Melanoma survivor
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