Just Another Week with Cancer
There's a terrible "Groundhog Day" experience that comes with battling cancer.
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One of my favorite Bill Murray movies, probably second after Ghostbusters, is the comedy classic, Groundhog Day. If you’ve never seen it…well, shame on you. It’s hysterical and your homework assignment is to go watch the movie as soon as possible.1
Anyway, point is, cancer feels a lot like Groundhog Day.
A LOT.
Without boring you with the repetitive nature of my daily experience, I’ll boil it down to what my struggle was this week: I considered not writing the newsletter. In fact, I considered shifting the frequency to once a month instead of once a week.
Why would I do that?
Because I was concerned that I’m boring the snot out of y’all with the same message week after week.
There’s not been any breakthroughs in my treatment as of late, which I feel like is part of the process of my treatment. We’re working toward something amazing or at the very least some instance of improvement, but I’ve not had any progress to report as of late. It’s not like I’ve been able to write that my tumors have shrunk, or that I can feel the pain going away.
Instead, I’m telling you week after week how it feels to battle and struggle through a disease every day. And I worry that some of y’all might be tired of reading about battles and struggles because you’ve got your own to face. Some of y’all have your own illnesses, financial struggles, relationship challenges, family concerns and work issues that you’re desperately trying to make it through. I respect those struggles and can empathize with them, which is why I was wrestling with keeping the newsletter going each week.
But a phone call with my friend, Brad Dillard, helped reset my perspective.
I’ve known Brad since we were kids. Like early teens kids. We went to church together, and quickly found that we had a lot in common and enjoyed one another’s company. With the exception of my college years—when I majored in being a total dumb butt to many of the people I loved—he and I have been as close as a non-sibling platonic relationship can be. Heck, I coached my kids to call him Uncle Brad because we’re that close.
Brad is great about touching base with me every couple of weeks and scheduling a FaceTime call. I know we’re all a little leery of Zoom meetings and digital conference calls, but there’s something comforting about a FaceTime call with a good friend. I’ve had similar calls with my mentor Charlie Wetzel, and a few other friends like Jesse Barnett here and there, but Brad always reaches out to me and asks to catch up.
And I’m always happy to comply.
Part of the happiness comes from the fact that I know we’ll keep the cancer talk to a minimum. Brad and I have known one another long enough that we have a deep conversational range, and so I can start by asking him about his wonderful wife, Meredith, or their son (who is one of the smartest sports fans you’ll ever meet), and we’ll eventually end up talking about Star Wars, Braves baseball, or the state of the world in general.2
That’s a bigger deal to me than I can really express, because I am more than my diagnosis. I’m still me. I can still do things for myself, even if not as many and even if not as well. I don’t need to be treated like I’m completely helpless; if I tell you can get up and do something, trust that I can do it and if I make a fool of myself, well, you can enjoy the satisfaction of saying, “Told you so.”
That’s a bit more rant-ish than I intended, but I’m going to let it stand. The truth is, I think most people just want to be helpful and thoughtful when they offer to do things for me. They don’t know, or can’t quite understand, how much autonomy I’ve lost in so many areas, so my insistence on doing things myself may seem rude or foolishly stubborn; the good news is I don’t get out much, so this doesn’t happen often enough for it to be that big of an issue, but when it happens it’s just an acute reminder of what’s been stripped away from me.
Brad gets all of that.
When we got on the phone Saturday afternoon, it started out like normal. I started by asking how his son’s baseball season ended (Brad served as head coach and had a number of kids who’d never played ball before), and he was happy to share some funny stories with me. After that, we just let the conversation meander to wherever felt natural, content to enjoy time with a friend.
At some point, however, the conversation came around to what I was thinking, and I mentioned my thoughts about cutting back on the newsletter out of fear that I was just getting too repetitive. Brad let me ramble for a bit, and then—as he has done for the better part of a couple of decades now—he pushed back on my thinking.
“Maybe the newsletter is more for the people than you realize. Maybe what you say matters because not many others are willing to say it.”
He paused briefly, then asked this question.
“Have you thought about the idea that you’re helping people give voice to their own struggles by sharing yours?”
I had not thought about that. Hadn’t come within a quarter-mile of thinking about that. But I’ve not stopped thinking about it since he asked the question.
One of the things that has made my cancer battle a challenge is the tension between my strong feeling that I have a greater purpose that has yet to reveal itself and the medical conjecture that I might not have that long to live. Waking up every day under that weight is a struggle, and while perhaps you don’t share my predicament, maybe you feel the same weight through a tension of your own. Those tensions, for as long as they are unresolved, are fuel for the terrible sameness I feel each day.
That doesn’t exactly make for inspirational reading week over week.
Or so I thought, until Brad challenged me to consider things differently. I have thought about the newsletter as primarily a report on my condition. My job is to let people know what’s going on with me, and give them an idea on how to pray. When nothing much is happening, it’s easy to start thinking that the newsletter is more of an indulgence for me than information for y’all.
But this newsletter is more than information; it’s inspiration. My calling in life is to help other people see their own brilliance, their own giftedness and unique value. I often myopic in thinking that I fulfill that calling by the writing I do for work, or in meeting with people one on one. I sometimes forget that everything I write—from tweets to books to blog posts—falls under that calling.
That includes this newsletter.
I hope that what you read each week inspires you in some way. I hope that it helps you see the world through a hopeful lens, to believe that better things are possible and that you are worthy of them. I hope that when you finish reading this, you feel a spark within your soul that says “You Matter,”3 and that you have the capacity within you to change your world in some way.
Or at the very least, I hope you feel less alone in your struggle. I hope you feel camaraderie with someone else who knows and experiences a version of the tension you feel.
I will keep sending these out weekly. I will continue sharing with you the various things I go through over the week, as well as update you on my condition4 and progress through treatment. I will do this because I trust that there will be inspiration for someone through this work.
To those of you who have commented or shared a kind word about previous editions of the newsletter, I am grateful for your kindness and that you take time to share your response to my words. I hope that these words will continue to serve you and help you discover your uniqueness, or help you carry the burdens that you sometimes feel are yours alone to bear.
You’re not alone. You’ve never been alone. Those of us who struggle are with you—now and always.
And we are glad to share the journey.
This week’s prayer requests:
For Jason—for clarity on whether or not chemo treatment on Tuesday will interfere with my paracentesis on Wednesday; for the paracentesis to remove lots of excess fluid from my abdomen; for the needle work required for the paracentesis not to hurt as much; for continued growth in my emotional and spiritual realms.
For Rachel—peace and patience to get through exam week due to the funky schedules the kids have; for continued growth in her study and understanding of the Enneagram personality chart; for continued sleep and genuine rest; for God’s blessings to pour out on her and fill her with joy and warmth.
For Ella—rest, strength, and courage during her exams; for her to be successful in her study habits and have 100% recall when she sits down for her exams; for a healthy close to the school and ballet year; for her to enjoy her summer break and get plenty of downtime to recover and get stronger.
For Jon—focus during the final week of school; the opportunity to finish his art project and portfolio; for him to head into summer ready to rest and enjoy downtime with the family.
I don’t have much in the way of a closing thought. I think if I were to say anything, it would be to just remind you to appreciate the people in your life who are willing to stick by your side and be a constant source of friendship, wisdom, and encouragement.
Take a moment this week and send a text, a card, a letter—heck, send someone a DM—to thank them for being a Brad in your life. Because you have a Brad somewhere. There’s someone who has stuck by you and been there for you, whether its for decades like Brad’s been with me or for a few weeks. Point is, celebrate that person this week and thank them for what they’ve added to your life.
Those friends are worth recognizing, so take the time to do so. They will appreciate your thoughtfulness and friendship all the more.
As always, thanks for reading. I’ll be back next week with another update.
Best,
Jason
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Plot summary: a Philadelphia weather man gets trapped in the small town of Punxsutawney, PA, living the same day over and over again until he learns to embrace personal growth and humility. All I can say is, haven’t we all faced a Ned Ryerson or two in our day?
All subjects that parents of young children are passably familiar with, if you’ll pardon the generalization. I guess I feel this way because of the rise of Nerd Culture, and I finally feel safe loving the things I love without fear of mockery. Who doesn’t love Iron Man 3,000 these days?
Shout out to my friend, John Griffin. Hope you don’t mind me stealing your catchphrase! If you don’t know John, give him and his wife Antoinette a follow. They’re both really great coaches and can help you uncover your unique purpose in life.
When there’s an update worth sharing, that is.
“Have you thought about the idea that you’re helping people give voice to their own struggles by sharing yours?”
Wow. That’s a great perspective. I do thank you for sharing, Jason. It helps me feel connected to your family.
As always, very inspiring. and thought provoking! I’ve already thought of several friends to express my gratitude to for their faithfulness and friendship Prayers continue for your miracle!