Lauryn Cooney

Meeting with other cancer survivors has inspired Lauryn to live her life to the fullest.

If you have been diagnosed with cancer, you know just how much it turns your whole life upside down. Heck, it turns the lives of everyone who loves you upside down and spins you around in a circle until you are so dizzy you just want to vomit. Some of us 

 vomit, but once you come up for air, or at least when I did, I felt like I needed to learn how to live again.

How do you live when you are constantly trying to figure out how not to die?

I was diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer in early February 2023. I was 37 years old, and cancer was the very last thing on my mind. What even is an oncologist? The word wasn't a part of my vocabulary.

That year, it seemed like all the spring holidays came early. Graciously, my mom hosted the family on these days. At each one, I would show up with a sad smile and try to get through the day without crying. On those occasions, in the back of my mind, and I'm sure everyone else's in attendance, was the same persistent question: Would this be my last fill-in-the-blank?My last Easter, my last Mother’s Day, my last birthday… Always pervasively circulating in my mind would be this thought: Will I be around for this next year? And in typical Eeyore fashion (Yes, that Eeyore, the sad donkey from Winnie the Pooh), I would internalize the “probably going to rain” mentality and just assume I would not.

We took hundreds of pictures where I dutifully smiled. My kids were rotated through the line so each could have a picture with Mom. I smiled with my sister, mom, dad, husband and anyone else fortunate enough to be around. Every time we would get together, we would take what felt like 100s of pictures.

By the time Thanksgiving and Christmas came around, I wasn't so grim. It helped that my tumors were responsive to chemo and I was scheduled for surgery to hopefully remove what remained.

Yes, these hopeful circumstances related to my disease helped my overall attitude, but what I found helped the most was that during that dark year, I had surrounded myself with other survivors. These were people who inspired me. They were living with metastatic cancer, yet still doing all the things. They were running marathons, hiking mountains, taking once-in-a-lifetime trips, getting married, learning new skills and embracing old skills. They had found a way to 

. Not just live the day-to-day grind like so many of us have for years, but authentically live in the face of dim prognoses and unimaginable darkness. They inspire, advocate and wake up every day embracing life.

In the face of cancer, those who come before me have shown me how to live each day knowing it could very well be their last. It's cliche, but it's true.

None of us are given a timeline or know when we will no longer be a citizen of this world.

Do I still think about dying? Every. single. day. But I also live in the present now and embrace the time given to me.

To all the survivors out there living life to the fullest, thank you for showing me the light, how to genuinely smile again and how to live life while actively trying not to die.

This story was written and submitted by Lauryn Cooney. The article reflects the views of Cooney and not of CURE®. This is also not supposed to be intended as medical advice.

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Articles

A cancer diagnosis profoundly disrupts life, prompting existential reflections on mortality and the challenge of living fully amidst uncertainty. Lauryn Cooney, diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer at 37, shares her journey from despair to hope, influenced by the resilience of fellow survivors. Initially overwhelmed by the prospect of impending loss, Cooney found solace and inspiration in a community of individuals living vibrantly despite metastatic cancer. This narrative underscores the importance of embracing life, finding joy in the present, and drawing strength from others facing similar battles.

With stage 4 colon cancer, I still think about death, but I’ve learned how to live in the present to enjoy each day I have.  

How I Truly Learned to Live With Stage 4 Colon Cancer

Everyone's legacy during or after cancer is different. For Lauryn, it took some time to reflect on her life before deciding on a legacy.

When you enter the world of cancer, you find a lot of discussion on the idea of a person’s legacy. In my short time living with a colon cancer diagnosis, I have found the question to be almost suffocating when I think about it. For me, legacy is usually in the context of a monetary gift. I think of the janitor who squirreled away millions and then left it to the community he served. The idea becomes grandiose and I can’t quite grapple with what legacy I have that is worth leaving.

I was diagnosed at the age of 37, and at the time, my kids were 3 and 5 years old and just turned 6 and 8. I remember thinking my sweet 3-year-old may never even remember me, let alone remember me before cancer. My kids remembering me became an idea I fixated on and an idea that propelled me forward as I underwent more treatment than I care to remember. In the almost two years since a trip to the ER that revealed a mass in my colon and, subsequently, numerous masses indicative of metastasis in my liver, I have had a lot of time to pause and reflect on my life and the legacy I wish to live.

I am constantly in awe of the cancer community and those individuals and groups that leave profound legacies. Perhaps it's a book that will go on to comfort millions of people diagnosed after them, a fund in honor of a loved one that helps individuals seek out additional care or an organization to make sure families are able to make lasting memories together. The collective legacies left by the cancer community are intense and awe-inspiring. So then, the question always surfaces: what do I have to offer?

I kept coming back to this question over and over in the two years since my diagnosis. Other patients have asked me “Have you thought of what you want your legacy to be?” I would think up ideas and how to implement them. Then just as quickly my inner voice would always remind me, that I have no idea how much more time I have left on this earth. Therefore, do I really want to spend the remaining time I have here working on things that may perhaps take me away from my family? This became a resounding theme whenever I thought of projects that I could be working on — but what about my kids? I want to spend as much time as I have left with them.

 my biggest legacy. How could an idea so simple take so long to realize? My kids are my biggest legacy — isn’t that a beautiful thing? Does this mean that now I must impose unrealistic aspirations on them? No. Do they need to be doctors, lawyers or work for Greenpeace changing the world? Also, no. What I do know is I want my legacy to be empathetic, kind and generous. To me, not much else matters.

Are my kids empathetic, kind and generous? It is the question I have asked myself every day since becoming a mom and the compass on which we raise our family. These characteristics I hope my kids will hold have not changed since my diagnosis, but I have seen how important they really are.

Are the grandiose ideas and plans others have made any less significant? No. In fact, we need people willing to write the books, form the foundations and help the families. But we all do not need to feel like we have to be doing those things to make a difference in this world long after we are gone, perhaps raising good humans is enough.

So, I challenge my fellow moms and dads with cancer. When you think of legacy, or someone asks you about your legacy, you don’t need to look outside your walls. Maybe the greatest legacy you have is sitting beside you on the couch or sitting in a highchair throwing mashed potatoes across the room, again.

Legacy is a significant concern for individuals diagnosed with cancer, often perceived as a grandiose concept involving monetary gifts or impactful projects. However, for some, like the author, the realization emerges that their children represent their most meaningful legacy. The focus shifts from external achievements to nurturing empathetic, kind, and generous individuals. While grand projects are valuable, raising compassionate children is equally significant. This perspective encourages parents with cancer to recognize the profound impact of their familial relationships as a lasting legacy.

When I was diagnosed with colon cancer, I had a hard time deciding what my legacy should be, but once I realized what it was, I had to keep working hard for it.

Lauryn Cooney

How I Truly Learned to Live With Stage 4 Colon Cancer

I’ve Decided What My Legacy Is During Colon Cancer

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