Ron Cooper writes about the funny and serious sides of cancer. He is the author of “A Grateful Survivor” (Amazon) and blogs at RonCooperAuthor.com. Come along for the ride on his cancer journey!

Ron Cooper

Never has there been a more misunderstood malignant disease.

Sarcasm aside, the point I’m trying to make is that we cancer survivors and caregivers should show cancer no mercy. And what better way to do it than to curse at it!

Just go on to Twitter and type #cancersucks and you will instantly become part of an online community that hates cancer’s guts. Of course, you can step up your game and tweet #f**kcancer if you’re so inclined.

I mean, we cancer survivors don’t have to just lie down and take it. The “Big C” must pay for wreaking havoc upon our bodies and minds. Calling a spade, a spade is a good thing and bolsters our fighting spirits.

I lambast cancer with choice words all the time just to let off steam and to show it who’s really the boss.

So, when one of our brothers or sisters in the cancer community puts their First Amendment on the line as they publicly curse cancer, I’m all in. “The Washington Post” reported that a Delaware cancer survivor is entangled in a dispute with the state government over her right to display “FCANCER” on her license plate. Delaware argues that the word is in poor taste.

Hogwash! Whose tender feelings are being protected here? Who’s the real enemy, after all?

But, hey, that license plate may appear a bit lame compared to what you can tweet. That Delaware driver could use even blunter language than “FCANCER” on a bumper sticker and violate no norm or law.

So, back to my original theme: Cursing cancer is really a positive thing amid the negative environment where cancer festers. In fact, as cancer progresses, God forbid, profanity may be one of the most reliable things left in our toolkit.

Now that the subject at hand is on speaking up, we should use our voice of experience to advocate for good health. So, the next time you go to the mountaintop to complain about cancer, scream these two words: “Get screened!”

Your public service announcement is both advice and a forewarning, coming from an expert, so to speak. With the coronavirus still locking down many of us at home or possibly postponing cancer treatments, let’s get busy and spread the word that screening saves lives.

Look around and you’ll see that you have the power to convince those in your inner circle to take the bull by the horns and get screened. For example, I am a big advocate forthe colonoscopy, a procedure that, when skipped, can have dire, or even lethal, consequences.

I’ve had numerous colonoscopies. The latest one, in June, produced results that I can brag about – no polyps this time! I’m not going to let cancer get a one-up on me when it comes to my health, especially if I can get a screening that might shut down the disease before it takes hold. So, whenever I can, I pass the word that colonoscopies are now recommended starting at age 45.

“What’s keeping you from making an appointment?” I ask friends and family members.

Those two words, “get screened,” can make a huge difference for the life and health of not only our loved ones, but in our community and workplaces.

So, curse if you want, but definitely promote a cancer-free life through a positive screening message. It feels so good to be an advocate!

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Articles

When talking about cancer, it’s OK to use profanities sometimes.  

Why We Should Curse Cancer

With cancer, the diagnosis is shocking, the treatments are draining and the prognosis is worrisome. Stress may dominate our days and fear haunt our nights. Hope may appear elusive as a “new-normal” takes center stage.

Cancer festers in body and soul, robbing us of our peace of mind and clouding our future.

But there’s a flip side. Cancer may also bring life into sharper focus, a positive side effect of the devastating disease. Quiet, gentle moments may rest upon us, bringing distraction, relief and joy.

Living with cancer for eight years has taught me to relish those gentle moments. For instance:

My wife and I live in a secluded neighborhood where a small, wooded area and creek serve as home to many bird species. That means we are the lucky beneficiaries of many exquisite songs.

During the predawn hours, I hear their beautiful sounds through my bedroom window, a great way to begin every day.

Once, a robin’s nest was built just outside our apartment door. I marveled at how hard the mother worked to feed her babies and witnessed them growing plump and healthy and finally taking those few unsteady steps before the first flight.

During the pandemic’s first winter, a mockingbird nested in a shrub near our residence, rent free. Surprisingly, its endless variety of songs were muted by those cold weather months, replaced by a harsh sounding squawk. But, come spring, I was rewarded with a return of its remarkable melody.

We live in an adult apartment community where children are seen only when they visit their grandparents or to stay with their parents during weekend visits. But coming from a subdivision on the street behind our complex, children’s laughter is abundant as they splash happily in an inground pool.

Nearly every day in the summer, extending from late morning to dusk, the sounds bring smiles to my lips.

Starting in the 1990s with Mozart and Vivaldi (“The Four Seasons”) I have been enthralled with classical music. It has always been a balm for my soul, but since cancer arrived in my life, it has become a form of escape.

Nightly, I tune in to classical music stations in Vienna and Oslo as well as the USA, listening to new composers. I watch them later on YouTube

I like to socialize with neighbors, like the woman who walks her Labrador puppy named “Cinnamon.” I find myself often exclaiming to her, “You must be feeding him well because he’s growing up so fast!”

Or, I might see neighbor who suffered a stroke spends endless hours holed up in his apartment when his girlfriend is at work. I know that he enjoys seeing me wave at him or stop for a quick chat.

Routines are important when you’re caught in a cancer rut, and no day would be complete without a neighborly encounter.

I truly enjoy these small outings and rarely stare at the four walls while my wife is at work. I’ve learned to stay busy yet not in a hectic way, but rather at a slow pace where I can notice nature, listen to the children’s laughter and classical music, and enjoy casual meetups with neighbors.

Cancer will always cause worry, stress and tears, but as the years pass, I realize there is more to life than that.

There’s a flip side to the trauma of cancer — a better appreciation of the small things in everyday life.  

Cancer Made Me Appreciate the Small Things in Life

It feels good to personally thank your cancer doctor and nurse for keeping you alive. And, as I discovered, it’s doubly good when you can do it publicly.

In 2019, I stopped by the radiation center where I had eight weeks of treatment to thwart a cancer comeback. I had not seen the staff for four years, but it felt like I had never left. I wanted to thank them in person for caring for me so well that I went into a blessed remission that continues to this very day.

I left there feeling on cloud nine, meeting up with my cancer treatment team, whom I consider my heroes. But I did not expect to get a call from them the very next day.

“Ron,” the office manager said, “Can you speak at our annual banquet next month? Our speaker has had a personal emergency and cannot make it. We would love to have you.”

I immediately accepted, with one earnest request: Would they please invite my cancer doctor and nurse to attend as special guests? They answered enthusiastically “yes,” and I began to prepare my remarks.

A couple of days later, I received confirmation that they would be attending. I was thrilled!

The night of the banquet, I looked out over the audience to see well over 100 patients with cancer and their caregivers. Seated at my table alongside my wonderful wife/caregiver were Dr. B. and Liz, my excellent care team.

I had done some public speaking in the past, leading writing workshops for corporate clients and regaling civic clubs with a fun-filled talk entitled “Grammar Lite.” But I had never spoken to a group of peers. This night, I wanted to shine the spotlight on these fellow travelers, speaking from my heart and experience.

I spoke about the early dark days of my cancer diagnosis and surgery in the process to restore hope where stress and fear reigned. I spoke about the friendships I made at Gilda’s Club, where I am part of an active support group, as well as a participant in a writers’ group.

Much of my talk was devoted to the caregivers in the room.

“I would like to express a heartfelt thank you,” I told them. “All of the latest breakthroughs in treatment and clinical trials are impressive and important, but what’s happening on the home front is very important as well. You deal with this disease on an emotional level. You deserve a lot of credit!”

Of course, the highlight of my talk was when I formally introduced Dr. B and Liz, who continue to consult with and treat me all these years later.

These remarkable professionals stood by me in the early chaotic days of my diagnosis, my surgery, and cancer’s comeback followed by treatments that brought me into remission (knock on wood!) As Dr. B. told me in those first few months under his care, “We’re going to watch you like a hawk.”

We cancer patients may tend to take our doctors and nurses for granted because we are simply trying to get by day to day. However, once in a while, we should stop, take stock and issue our praise toward these dedicated professionals. And there’s no better way than to do it publicly!

I recently was asked to speak at a banquet for my cancer center and saw that as a great opportunity to recognize those who cared for me.  

Praising My Oncologist and Nurse Publicly

Is the pandemic over? Some of my health care providers believe so. “Nothing to worry about here, patients,” they seem to say. “Let’s just move on.”

Late this spring, I had two appointments that turned my world upside down. The first was with a specialist, where innocently I walked in the door of an unmasked office. Dutifully, I wore mine and asked that the medical assistant and doctor put theirs on. They made quite a scene before begrudgingly complying with my request.

A week later, my appointment with another specialist also caught me off guard. I was perhaps one of every seven patients covering their faces, but the doctors, APRNs and staff were not. I kept my mouth shut this time, not wanting to stir the pot.

The thing is, neither practice had announced a change in their masking policy ahead of time. Long ensconced in my pro-masking world, I felt like a Rip van Winkle waking up to new and unsettling experiences. 

You see, as a cancer survivor, and an old one to boot, I’m doubly at risk for getting the coronavirus. As of this writing, many Americans were dying every day or being hospitalizedwith COVID-19. To be sure, the death rate from the coronavirus has been drastically cut, recently hovering around one-tenth it was during the worst period of the omicron variant.

Since we’re not entirely out of the woods yet, what is causing this sudden shift from pandemic to endemic?

Maybe my elderly neighbor and friend nailed it when he said, “Ron, there’s little or nothing we can do about it. They are just thinning the herd.”

Or, maybe the freedom to go bare faced without repercussions or guilt nowoutweighs the caution once exercised to keep us all breathing more easily.

As Spring Breakers Break COVID-19 Precautions, I Found Inspiration in One Steadfast Young Man

In short, America appears to have moved on from COVID-19. For more than two years, virtually the only safe havens for cancer patients and elderly people alike were in doctors’ offices and on public transportation. Encouragingly, one notable exception for me has been the local hospital where I had a colonoscopy in mid-June. All patients, doctors and staff members were masked up. This felt like a slice of heaven!

And I have to send out some kudos to my family doctor. During my June check-up, he and his staff did not disappoint me in the masking department. All were donned appropriately and never once let their mask slip down under their nose!

But day-to-day, on my errands for groceries and other necessities, it is a rare thing indeed to find many shoppers who have chosen to cover their faces.

The way I’m fighting back against this insanity is probably too little too late, but cancer patients have a right and duty to speak out. So, I’ve lately started wearing a large “immunocompromised” button when I venture out into the public. And it has caught the eye of a few courteous souls.

At the grocery store, a few customers noticed my bright-red button and allowed me my six feet of distance, even in one case putting me ahead of the line for the public restroom. That’s one small gain in my favor. Most times, our long-abandoned social distancing has become no more than six inchesin our hurried world.

I’m a realist. I don’t for a minute think that most of my fellow shoppers will accommodate me and others like me in our struggle to demand virus-free air.

But we cancer patients can dream for meaningful change as we try our level best to survive. My advice? Don’t forget to put your button on before you leave the house!

I was shocked at a recent doctor appointment when practically nobody in the office was wearing a mask.  

Ron Cooper

Why We Should Curse Cancer

Cancer Made Me Appreciate the Small Things in Life

Praising My Oncologist and Nurse Publicly

I Use a Simple Button to Combat Anti-Maskers, Since Cancer Made Me Immunocompromised

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