July 18th is a day that my wife and I have dedicated as “Superman Day”. We celebrate this day as the anniversary of my body being free of cancer. From diagnosis, not only was I focused on not letting cancer beat me, I was not going to let cancer slow me down. I immediately went into a fight response with turbocharged optimism and prepared my body with a hyper-tuned level of fitness. Up until surgery, I was riding my bike 130 miles a week. I figured that nothing could stop Superman.
For the last nine years I have had a deep sense of pride that I survived cancer. Somehow, I have felt that I beat cancer. I selected the right surgeon for treatment. I prepared myself physically for surgery. I pushed myself through recovery to return to my previous level of fitness.
I have since come to the understanding that I was more or less a passive participant in this entire process. My attitude and preparation certainly helped. However, the reality is that the people on my team are really the ones that deserve the credit.
Dr. David Chen and the wonderful staff at Fox Chase Cancer Center here in Philadelphia led the physical assault. I cannot say enough about their ability to not just treat the disease, but to do so with humanity. Many doctors are clinically very skilled. It is rare to find a group of people who are equally capable in treating the emotional needs of the patient. I am eternally grateful for the unequaled level of care provided to me.
Every team that achieves a level of success recognizes the role played by their fan base. I am no different. Not only was my wife holding my hand through diagnosis, treatment, and recovery, she also guided me through the mental minefield. Thank you for loving the “modified” me no less than the one I considered “complete”. You gave me reason to carry on.
Prior to becoming a father, I never fully understood mother’s intuition. I know that my son shares 50% of my DNA. However, my participation in bringing our son into this world was, well, limited. I did not nourish and protect our son for nine months. It was not my heartbeat that soothed him in the warmth of the womb. I now recognize that there is a special mother/child bond that exists from conception.
Although I was in my mid-forties, my mother was persistent in reminding me to get a PSA test. My father was diagnosed with prostate cancer several years prior. I think that she knew that something may be awry with half of the genetic material I had inherited. Sure enough, the biopsies showed that my cancer was already at stage 2 and was rounding the base for 3rd. Thank you Mom for never doubting your intuition. You probably saved my life.
Although it is our mother that brings us into this world, I think that we have tendencies to look toward our fathers as role models. As mentioned, my father preceded me into being a cancer survivor by several years. I watched him face his cancer with courage, humility, and resolve. Although no father should have to help their child prepare for cancer, by watching him, I already knew what I had to do.
There is another person to whom I owe a debt of gratitude. Growing up on the opposite side of the country, my cousin Chris and I only had a couple of opportunities to meet and we didn’t really know each other well. I was fortunate that Chris and his friends from Cyclists Combating Cancer (CCC) came to Philadelphia for a fundraising ride for the Livestrong Foundation. It was at that point that we realized that we grew up in some kind of parallel universe. It was eerie how much we had in common. Although it took almost forty years, we realized that we were actually “brothers from another mother”.
Our love of cycling and involvement with CCC gave the two of us opportunities to get together at various fundraisers. Looking back on things now, I suspect that divine intervention had taken place to make sure that we connected. Little did we know that we were both about to confront life changing events. Having an unbiased and non-judgmental confidant is just what we needed at that time in our lives to work through our challenges.
For a couple of years we participated in the Skinny Tire Festival in Moab, Utah. Initially I thought that this event was just going to be a chance to get away to do some cycling in the desert. It turned out to be much more than that. Spending a week with people who were in various stages of their battle with cancer helped me to redefine my ideal of a superhero. Superheroes seldom look like Superman. They are often frail or decimated with disease. Superheroes are simply ordinary people doing extraordinary things to make this world a better place. Thank you, Chris, for helping to show me what living is truly about.
This picture, entitled “The Optimist”, was taken in Arches National Park while participating in the Skinny Tire Festival. It has always resonated with me. The fragility of the sapling Oak lies in sharp contrast to the permanence of the boulder. Yet, the young tree is clearly being nourished from some source beyond our sight. Although very subtle, I have always found this to one of my most powerful images. I dedicate this post in honor of all of you have given me the opportunity to celebrate yet another “Superman Day”. I couldn’t have done it without you.
