In Darkness, Keep Moving Toward the Light

In this post, collected through our story portal, Pete shares how having faith, support, and determination helped him outmatch his first cancer diagnosis, and how he’s tackling advanced lung cancer today with a similar mindset.

Pete’s Story
 

My cancer experience started 25 years ago, just before 9/11. I was being monitored for symptoms suggestive of kidney cancer. While on my honeymoon with my wife, I woke up one morning to find my stomach quite distended. I was unable to buckle my trousers.

After returning home, I spoke with my MD about it, and he recommended I get a scan. Results were indeterminate. He had me repeat the test a week later. It showed a tumor in my kidney that had grown 6 cm (not 6 mm). The cancer had not metastasized, or spread, yet. The next day, as a first line of treatment, my entire kidney and part of my bladder were surgically removed.

After surgery, I underwent months of chemotherapy. I rode my bicycle from my home in the Bronx to the hospital in Manhattan for my appointments. The nurses thought I was crazy. But for me, cancer is a formidable opponent, and I was determined to fight with everything I had. That attitude — along with my faith in miracles and my loving wife — saw me through the experience.  

Now, a few decades later, I am facing a more formidable opponent: metastatic lung cancer, stage 4. I've never smoked, so this diagnosis came out of the blue. The odds are not in my favor. I'm 25 years older, and I also have congestive heart failure, a long-term condition where my heart can't pump blood as well as it should.

I wish I’d known that my second round of cancer was going to be a lot worse than my experience with kidney cancer. There have been times since starting my chemo treatments that I've felt alone, overwhelmed, and weak as a baby. This time around, I'm fighting a foe without my former support network, and it's looking like I may be overmatched.  

My adult children all live too far away for regular visits, but they offer their support on the phone and Facetime. I know I can talk with them when I'm down, and we've arranged a visit to see one another. Still, the feeling of being alone is real.

My care team has presented me with the possibilities of palliative care and hospice (eventually). I've decided to fight and keep my faith in miracles, just like I did 25 years ago.

I have trust in modern science as I go through chemo and immunotherapy. I'm also exploring different resources that are available, including resources at the Cancer Support Community.

For now, everything [in my life] has been put on hold. I thank God I'm retired and money isn't a problem. But I am a full-time, year-round collegiate and Olympic-level referee, and I've had to cancel all my matches as I deal with my cancer experience.

My advice to others facing cancer is to never give up the fight, and remember Yankees legend Yogi Berra's words: "It ain't over until it's over!"

One last note of advice. One of my granddaughters is a collegiate ball player. She blew out her knee a few months ago and is devastated that she will miss her second year playing ball. She’s also in a tremendous amount of pain. My advice to her, and to myself — and to anyone reading my story now — is this:

The only way to get through the black tunnel is to keep moving through the tunnel until we come out on the other side. There is no easy fix. The light at the end of the tunnel will get bigger and brighter the farther we are in the tunnel. Just go to the light.

When I feel down, I do just that.