How a Cancer Diagnosis Wiped That Smug Look Off My Face

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.

Thankfully, it was a one-time affair.

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.