On Cancer

On February 16, 2022, I went to a urologist to have what I thought was a minor, uncomfortable cyst checked out. Minutes after my arrival at what I thought would be a quick in-and-out appointment before I resumed my Wednesday afternoon, I was told by the doctor that I had testicular cancer.

Five minutes later, he had me scheduled for surgery. I was at a loss for words, still not having processed anything he said but having to confirm a surgery time and begin pre-op procedures. Once the word cancer came out of the doctor’s mouth, I had gone completely numb. I didn’t hear much of what he said after that. It felt like I got punched in the gut. At one point, the doctor could tell I was clearly spacing out, and to ensure I understood the gravity of the situation he looked at me and just said “Lance Armstrong. This is what he had. I’m sorry for the brutal delivery, but I don’t want to mince words.” Even though I was wearing the required COVID surgical mask, I’m sure he could see in my eyes that I was terrified.

Thankfully, my fiancée Hannah was at the appointment with me to process and take over next steps. I remember being escorted out of his office into another room where they would draw my blood and looking at her and asked “What the hell is going on?”. I still hadn’t even had the chance to call the rest of my family, yet I was scheduled for surgery the following week. They gave me a ginger ale to drink because they thought I might pass out — I took one sip and tossed it in the trash next to me. When I did, I noticed my arm was shaky.

We walked out of that urologist’s office on Lexington Avenue and just stood looking at each other in complete and total shock. “What just happened?” was the first thing I was able to say. We had absolutely no idea what lied ahead.

After the cancerous tumor (and my entire right testicle) were removed during surgery, we had to wait a week for the biopsy results, which would determine what stage my cancer was and what next steps would be required. Nothing from my scans had shown evidence of spread, but that’s never a guarantee. As if the pain from the surgery and being bedridden wasn’t enough, this uncertainty of what was to come made it the longest week of my life. I was mentally preparing for chemotherapy.

Then we got incredible news. The biopsy of my tumor revealed my cancer had only reached Stage 1 — the best possible outcome. Outside of the one surgery I had, I would not require any chemotherapy or radiation at this time. My biggest fear was quelled — the cancer had not spread. I should be able to have children normally (though we took precautions just in case). I’ll have to be scanned and pricked every three months for the next few years to confirm the cancer doesn’t come back, but that’s a miniscule price to pay for my life back.

After a tumultuous month, it feels surreal to say that today, March 10, 2022, I am officially cancer free.

To be honest, I am still in complete shock. None of what just happened feels real. I am still recovering from surgery so the scars and wounds are certainly real, but nothing I went through emotionally feels like it happened to me. From the time of diagnosis to this moment, it was a month of hell for me and my family- sleepless nights, tons of appointments, dozens of scans and tests, and lots of waiting and worrying. Now, we all can finally take a deep breath.

This was something that rocked me and something I am still, a month after that initial appointment, still processing. It happened so quickly that I still think I’m going to blink and wake up from this long nightmare.

I got lucky.

Cancer is one of those things you think just happens to other people — especially this early in life. You read about it, you sympathize, you donate, you go to events and help raise money… and then you put it behind you and go back to living your normal life. Cancer is a problem for other people… I’m healthy and that’s not going to happen to me. Or so I thought.

As I sit here and reflect on the past month, I wanted to share some of the lessons I’ve learned and the things that I want to remember today and always. These are feelings and takeaways I’m going to hold close to me me for the rest of my life — to be used when the inevitable hurdles I’ll face later on, whatever they might be, arise. While I believe these can be applied by anyone, I’m selfishly writing this piece to ensure I bottle up how I’m feeling in this moment so that I have the courage to face any challenges life throws at me down the line. I never want to forget the mental and physical battle I just went through, and I never want to forget the feeling I have today.

Lean on your team

No one can face the inevitable challenges of life alone, no matter how strong you are. I am fortunate to have what I think is the best team in the world around me. At first I tried to be strong enough to shoulder as much of the physical and emotional burdens myself, but it’s times like these that you need to lean on the people around you. No one should fight a battle like this alone. If you live your life as someone who is constantly giving more than you recieve, the way I always strive to be, these are the times when it’s okay to be on the receiving end of help, attention and love.

Stay positive

It’s cliche but it’s true. Prepare for the worst, but hope for the best — easier said than done. Try to be grateful for the things that are going well, and lean on those wins to carry you forward with positive momentum. I was fortunate to be able to get into a world-class surgeon at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Hospital. I also had some encouraging results early on from my bloodwork, though not 100% conclusive. I used small wins like those as boosts to propell me to the next obstacle. I also believe that as the mind directs the body follows — so a positive, fighter’s mentality WILL guide your body come out on top. It can make all the difference. Your mentality also makes all the difference in those who are supporting you.

Medidate, journal, or do whatever you need to stay level

Over the past couple of years I got into meditation and journaling, both of which really helped me stay centered throughout this whole process. By building up those processes before this crisis hit, I was able to lean on them heavily during this time. With cancer, or any other crisis, there’s a lot going on and things happen quickly. Meditation helps you slow down and process things (and it was incredibly helpful when I was shoved into multiple CT scan machines for hours). Journaling was helpful to track how I was feeling, and allowed me to spill out on paper what I haven’t necessarily been able to articulate out loud to anyone around me.

Turn the obstacle into your fuel

My brother Sam gave me a book by Ryan Holliday when I was originally diagnosed, called The Obstacle is the Way, which changed my life and saved me in my darkest moments. I had gotten into Stoicism a bit over the past year or so, but this diagnosis gave me an opportunity to dive deeper into this timeless philosohpy and put the lessons of the stoics into action. I learned how I can use this obstacle to propel me forward, and more importantly, that there is no such thing as a fulfilled life without obstacles. How you handle life’s inevitable crises is so important, and it’s a skill you can work on and develop over time. Worrying about what you can control (your mind, attitude, will) is a key pillar of Stoicism. As my friend Brian told me “ You can’t be brave if you’ve only had wonderful things happen to you. Don’t ever ask for an easy life, ask to be a strong person.” I was determined to not only beat this disease, but to harness it as a way to make me stronger on the other side.

It’s okay to take it easy

Before my diagnosis I was in the process of figuring out what’s next in my career, an inevitably stress-inducing process filled with urgency. I was full steam ahead going a million miles a minute brainstorming, networking, working, and plotting my next move. Ultimately, cancer forced me to pause my efforts to focus on my health. As I started to heal from my surgery, and get back to my old self both mentally and physically, I was eager to jump right back in where I left off. It’s important to pause and take a deep breath. I used to hate wasting too much time during the day. But that’s okay sometimes, especially in times like this. Read a book during the day. Watch a movie. Even if you think you’re almost back to 100%, you probably aren’t quite there yet. It’s important to let your mental state recouperate and get back to normal.

Don’t forget this moment

It’s so easy to put crises behind you and get back to worrying about the same dumb things that you thought mattered before. I can’t tell you how excited I am for the first question I get when seeing people to not be “how do you feel?”. However, it’s important to make sure you remember what happened. Be grateful you made it to the other side and let this moment continue to stay in the back of your mind as a badge of honor that you made it — and the next hurdle doesn’t stand a chance.

Reprioritize

While I’m thankful I’ll get my life back, I don’t necessarily want to pick back up exactly as I left off. Stoics preach the benefits of acknowledging the fact that you’re going to die someday — cancer certainly helps with that. In recognizing your own mortality, you are mentally putting yourself in a better position to maximize your minutes, hours and days. I’m not saying I am going to be a productivity freak and track every minute of my day, but I am certainly going to take a hard look at how I spend my time and eliminate the people and things that aren’t having a positive impact on me. Life’s too short to have it any other way.

Take advantage of this second chance

Now it’s time for the fun part! I get to resume life as I had been living it before with a renewed appreciation for it all.

I’m getting ready to graduate from business school, make my next career move, and most importantly, get married all within the calendar year. I am going to give everything I have to make the most of these last two months at Columbia Business School. I have always wanted to test the waters of entreprenurship — maybe now is the time I finally take that plunge and bet on myself. I already knew my wedding would be the best night of my life, but now I’m even more certain. This experience has reiterated how fortunate I feel and for the many exciting thing I have to look forward to.

While I am going to tackle each of my own life milestones with a renewed passion, I also want to make sure that I do everything I can to have a positive impact on the world and use my good fortune to help others. I was introduced to Imerman Angels — an organization that pairs current cancer patients with survivors of those same types of cancers. I want to make sure I can provide someone who doesn’t have a team like mine with positive support and prop them up as they battle this horrible disease. My brother Sam is organizing a fundraiser for testicular cancer, and I hope to be able to give back regularly to ensure more men are aware of this disease and well equipped to fight it.

My mission from here on out is to make sure that my good fortune goes to good use.

I won’t let this second chance go to waste.