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

Ron Cooper received a diagnosis of prostate cancer in 2014 and is currently in active surveillance. Catch up on all of 

For four years after my diagnosis of prostate cancer, I stubbornly stayed in self-imposed isolation. I was still working as a freelance editor and writer. I figured that I could just plow my way through this new reality by meeting deadlines and helping others polish their books and articles.

Then, in 2018, I had the rug pulled out from under me. A serious shoulder condition made it impossible to spend hours at my keyboard, much less meet the requirements of demanding clients. I was forced to retire, leaving me countless idle hours to reflect on my fragile health.

That year, I joined Gilda’s Club Kentuckiana in Louisville, and so began a now seven-year journey of companionship and support with other cancer survivors. At Gilda’s, I joined a writers’ group, where creative juices were flowing and friendships flourishing.

I also became a judge of middle and high school students’ essays on their experience with cancer in their immediate families or circle of friends, and I joined a twice-weekly Zoom group called “Lunch & Laughs.”

I began to come out of my cocoon not only at Gilda’s, but also at Norton Cancer Institute of Louisville, which offers many programs for cancer patients and their families.

Among the programs that I took advantage of were a weekly breathing exercise and meditation class to reduce stress, and a prostate cancer support group held over Zoom monthly. Also, a nutritionist created a dietary plan perfectly suited for cancer patients like me.

By 2020, I had gained a widening circle of friends and fellow travelers on Journey Cancer. Many have become lifelong friends, the kind of people for whom you remember their birthdays and anniversaries. The kind of people with whom you mourn the loss of loved ones. And the kind of people where you can just plain get real.

An example: Last spring, I was absent for several weeks from my regular online support group at Gilda’s. I had gone back to my old habits of self-isolation when cancer threatened to recur and turn my life upside down again. I decided, foolishly, to fight the good fight solo.

After a few weeks, I thought the group had moved on and forgotten about me. I had made no effort to reach out to them and bring them up-to-date on the latest news of this cancer merry-go-round. Then the phone rang. It was Mary Gatton, the group leader, who asked if she could put me on speaker phone. The group was meeting just then and was eager to get an update.

I agreed, and instantly I was back in the groove, sharing what I should have shared weeks earlier to regain the emotional support that I so desperately craved. Soon, I rejoined the group and it was as if I had never left it. I was accepted and I accepted them as true friends, where we treat one another as a second family.

So, what lessons have I learned over the years about the importance of being part of a cancer community?

Coping alone with cancer can lead to self-pity and despair, and work or other diversions won’t ever serve as anything but a temporary escape from the unsettling truth about your health.

Taking that first step of becoming involved with cancer support groups can be difficult because naturally we will feel most vulnerable sharing our struggles and worries with total strangers.

But strangers can quickly become friends. After all, they, too, had to take that first step, and they managed to come out of it unscathed. They paved the way forward for you.

Gilda’s Club and other organizations for cancer patients offer emotional support in a confidential setting. Rest assured, you can safely share anything with them.

Once you are part of a cancer group or organization, you are always a member in good standing who can expect earnest friendship and loving support.

My 11-year journey with cancer has been anything but care-free; however, it has proven far better for me to have some company along the way.

This piece reflects the author’s personal experience and perspective. For medical advice, please consult your health care provider.

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Articles

After a prostate cancer diagnosis, the author initially isolated himself, focusing on work. A shoulder condition forced retirement, leading him to join Gilda’s Club Kentuckiana, where he found support and companionship among fellow cancer survivors. Engaging in various programs, including writing groups and support meetings, helped him build meaningful relationships. Despite occasional relapses into isolation, the author learned the value of community support in coping with cancer. He emphasizes that joining support groups can transform strangers into friends, providing emotional support and a sense of belonging.

After my cancer diagnosis, I planned to go it alone but found unconditional acceptance from the cancer community once I took the first step. 

Emerging from Isolation After Cancer Reaped Many Rewards 

Ron Cooper received a diagnosis of prostate cancer in 2014 and is currently in active surveillance. Catch up on all of

Of all the things you choose in life, you don't get to choose what your nightmares are. You don't pick them; they pick you. – John Irving

Ever felt like you finally kicked cancer’s butt, and you have put your worries in the rear-view mirror for good? And that cancer, once a monster of Jurassic Park proportions, would never bother you again?

That describes me. I’ve been in remission for most of my prostate cancer journey, and my PSA (prostate specific antigen) numbers have been way, way, way down low much of that time. Sure, I’m concerned that I might have to go back on hormone therapy, but mostly I have felt rather smug, cocky, complacent and even untouchable.

However, that all that changed one night last year when I was awakened suddenly from a frightening nightmare. My heart pounded uncontrollably; I felt weak-kneed and light-headed and convinced I was headed for the emergency room with a suspected heart attack. My heart rate was over 125 and my blood pressure had soared, but I had no telltale signs of a heart attack, such as unremitting pain, sweating, clammy skin or shortness of breath.

Still, I was ready to call 9-1-1, when I suddenly recalled my nightmare moments beforehand about getting diagnosed with a second cancer. What made it worse was the nurse in my dream appeared aloof and unsympathetic when she announced the news following a diagnostic work-up. Then, she abruptly left the room, abandoning me in my shock. I shook with fear, much like the feelings I incurred when I was diagnosed with aggressive prostate cancer in 2014.

So, I thought, even in my subconscious state, I was not safe from cancer’s inescapable reach. My archenemy had caused me such dismay and stress that my body went into overdrive. It was as if cancer had its hand around my neck and was squeezing the life out of me. And to top it all off, I had felt totally alone!

Fortunately, my wife came to the rescue, with soothing reassurances that I was the victim of nothing more than a bad dream. She coaxed me back to sleep, encouraging me to try to put the whole incident behind me. It was just what I needed to hear. By then, my blood pressure and heart rate had returned to normal, I was steady on my feet, and the light-headedness had disappeared into thin air.

I am not unlike most cancer survivors, with a healthy respect for the disease we share in common, vigilant for its possible recurrence and fearful that a second cancer might enter the mix. But I had grown somewhat lazy, letting my guard down against the elephant in the room — the “big C.” Frankly, I had brushed off the fact that cancer has the potential to kill me–or at the very least to worry me to death.

For an entire week after my dream, I kept the blood pressure cuff handy at my bedside in case I was awakened again with a galloping heart rate. But when I had no more cancer-related dreams, I put the device back in the nightstand drawer.

Cancer, if you’re listening, yes, indeed, you wiped that smug look off my face. I should have realized that you would try to intimidate me, that you will never back down, and that I can expect you to pop up in my most vulnerable moments.

But know this: I still will fight you with every lasting breath. Now, go away while I turn over to get some restful sleep!

For more news on cancer updates, research and education, don’t forget to 

subscribe to CURE®’s newsletters here.

Cancer survivors often experience a false sense of security after remission, believing they have conquered the disease. However, the psychological impact of cancer can manifest in unexpected ways, such as nightmares, which serve as a reminder of the disease's persistent threat. These experiences can trigger intense physical reactions, highlighting the ongoing fear of recurrence. Support from loved ones plays a crucial role in managing these fears. Despite the psychological challenges, survivors remain determined to fight cancer, acknowledging its potential to reemerge during vulnerable moments.

It took a nightmare about a second cancer to shake me out of my complacency, and I nearly called 9 1 1.

How a Cancer Diagnosis Wiped That Smug Look Off My Face 

Ron Cooper received a diagnosis of prostate cancer in 2014 and is currently in active surveillance. Catch up on all of 

Dear reader, I need your help. As a patient with prostate cancer, I’m trying to prioritize my time and energy, and it has not been easy. There’s just a whole lot going on, and I need some guidance, please. Look at the multiple-choice questionnaire below and tell me which should be my top priority:

Before selecting one, here’s a little bit of context for you. My prostate-specific antigen (PSA) blood test results have been on the rise for more than a year, and my doctors suspect that it may be metastatic. Thus, the order for a biopsy procedure.

The order was placed around the same time my wife and I were moving into a new apartment, an exhausting endeavor that claimed most of our waking hours.

Also, our car was rear-ended and totaled, with my wife behind the wheel. Fortunately, she was not hurt, but we had to rely upon a car rental for two weeks and arrange for a U-Haul truck to move our things to the new place. It was a month-long ordeal.

The same day as my wife’s accident, my son fell, cracking several ribs and experiencing a slight puncture to one of his lungs. He was hospitalized overnight and spent more than a week at home recuperating before returning to work. I tried to cheer him up during his convalescence.

In a word, life has been topsy-turvy lately, with plenty of sleepless nights mulling over my upcoming biopsy, and daytimes consumed with check-ins with my son, moving and trying to find a replacement car.

So, dear reader, did you select “C” for my cancer biopsy as the top priority? Metastatic cancer is a huge deal, a life-and-death issue, a quality-of-life issue, a treatment issue. So, “C” would not have been necessarily the wrong choice. Initially, it was my first choice.

But what I have learned from this very busy period in my life is that my cancer is not the center of the universe. People have accidents, get hospitalized and face a whole host of other very human ordeals. 

I am a patient with cancer, but I’m also a husband and father, among other roles. Many other lives intersect with mine, and I strive to be a caring, attentive family man.

It would be so easy for me to obsess about my health, especially when the stakes are so high. But I choose to make my life full of dedication and passion toward those who enrich and fulfill me while trying to keep one step ahead of cancer’s onslaught.

That’s why I chose “E” for “All of the above.”

The narrative highlights the complex challenges faced by a prostate cancer patient juggling multiple life stressors, including a rising PSA level suggesting possible metastasis, a wife's car accident, a son's hospitalization, and a move to a new apartment. Despite the potential severity of his cancer, the patient emphasizes the importance of balancing personal health concerns with family responsibilities. He ultimately prioritizes all aspects of his life equally, underscoring the interconnectedness of his roles as a patient, husband, and father, and the need for a holistic approach to life.

I once thought that prostate cancer should be the center of my universe, but with everything else going on, now I’m not so sure. 

Should Cancer Be My Top Priority? 

As a patient with prostate cancer, I’ve grown used to hearing my doctor say, “We’ll just have to watch and wait.”

I’ll gladly admit the overwhelming feeling of relief upon hearing those words. They mean that even as my PSA (prostate-specific antigen) might be on the rise, my cancer has stalled for the time being.

My doctor might as well be saying, “It’s time to take a break. We’ll need to revisit your status in a few months. But for now, you can put your worries on hold. Get on with your life.”

Of course, I’m grateful to learn that I can have some degree of normalcy in my life until my next consultation with the urologist. These “timeouts” have been part of my routine for 10 years. Fortunately, I have been in remission for most of that time, so that amounts to lots of watching and waiting.

So, during my breaks from active treatment, should I just stare at the wall until it caves in with a new diagnosis that the cancer has spread and aggressive treatment is warranted?

These breaks are a golden opportunity to restore calm and fill my days with meaningful activities surrounded by people that I care about. In short, I now have the luxury of time to care more about the things that really matter.

During this most recent hiatus from cancer’s onslaught, I have been writing to mentors who encouraged me during my 20-plus-year career as a newspaper reporter.

I have been putting pen to paper writing to former editors who shaped me into becoming a good journalist. In some cases, those editors have passed away, so I’m trying to track down family members to share memories of life in the newsroom and express gratitude for their loved one’s role in building my career.

This is just one of many ways I have decided to spend my watch-and-wait time.

I’ve also signed up for physical therapy where I’ll be working on how to address balance issues experienced from a long and troublesome bout with neuropathy and trying to build my upper body on the exercise bike or with light weights.

AndI’m trying to watch more movies and stand-up comedy shows instead of spending countless hours poring over newspaper coverage of current events.

Lastly, I’ve been attending many Zoom webinars for writers since I would like to learn more about how to write essays, memoirs and satire. That will be quite a switch from the more than two decades I spent as a newspaper reporter concentrating on “just the facts, ma’am.”

Typically, my doctor gives me three months of “downtime” before scheduling my next PSA. Because those 90 days go by exceedingly fast, I have learned that a positive mindset and productive activities help ensure my time watching and waiting is well spent.

During my "watch and wait" time for prostate cancer, I spend this time wisely on things like attending writing webinars. 

Ron Cooper

Emerging from Isolation After Cancer Reaped Many Rewards

How a Cancer Diagnosis Wiped That Smug Look Off My Face

Should Cancer Be My Top Priority?

Making the Most of My 'Watching and Waiting' for Prostate Cancer

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