The Road Isn’t Straight, But It Still Goes Forward

The challenges of living with cancer can feel never-ending. From the side effects of chemotherapy to radiation surgery, there always seems to be something new to face. All of this happens while you’re still trying to maintain relationships with friends, a partner, and family—and, for many of us, attempting to hold down a job at the same time.

In mid-November, I had my brain MRI followed by an appointment with my radiation oncologist. For the first time in a year and a half, there were no new tumors. Gamma Knife radiation wasn’t needed. I was elated. It meant I didn’t need another brain MRI or follow-up until late February or early March. For once, it felt like I could simply keep living—doing what I’d been doing—without the constant interruption of medical appointments. It felt like real forward progress.

But a few days before Christmas, everything changed.

Here I am now, sitting and waiting after the discovery of a mass on my left adrenal gland. How it grew to 14 cm without being detected is something even my medical team doesn’t fully understand. At this point, the only option is an open adrenalectomy scheduled for the end of the month. It’s a major surgery—there’s no way around that. But I need this out of me. I can feel it.

The operation will require removal of my left adrenal gland, and the hope is for complete removal of the tumor with minimal impact to surrounding organs like the kidney, spleen, or stomach. It’s a lot to process.

This feels like another setback—another blow to the optimism I try so hard to protect while fighting cancer. I truly believed I had a couple of months of breathing room, time to enjoy the rest of winter without worry. That doesn’t appear to be in the cards. Recovery will take two to three weeks, and once again, I’ll be missing a meaningful event—a wedding at the end of the month.

I’m doing everything I can to keep my spirit lifted, to stay optimistic and positive as I press forward. But this is daunting. This isn’t a quick, in-and-out procedure that lasts a few hours. This is intense. I hope my body is ready for what’s ahead.

I’ll admit—I’m nervous. But stopping isn’t an option. I have to keep moving forward. I have to make it to the other side of this. Even when it feels overwhelming, even when it feels unfair, the only way through is forward.