Moving from shock to action is hard, but it's critical to surviving cancer
BY Kevin Berry
PUBLISHED June 28, 2018
Kevin Berry is an 13-year mantle cell lymphoma survivor, in his third remission. He works on Human Spaceflight programs, is a freelance writer and editor, and supports newly diagnosed patients through his ministry, Taking Vienna. He lives in Central Florida with his wife and adult children.
If you're reading CURE, chances are you've lived the horror of Day One, which many call Diagnosis Day, or D-Day. You or your loved one haven't slept, haven't eaten and probably spent the day on the phone with family members. D-Day feels a lot like the day a parent or spouse dies. You move in a daze, dealing mechanically with the body's minimum functions and numbly interacting with others who are just as shocked as you are. And also … the internet. A huge mistake we all make.
Day Two may mean follow-up appointments, dealing with your job and entertaining an endless stream of well-meaning visitors, hosting them when all you want to do is curl up in a ball and disappear from the world. Daily life is still a minimal function –eating a little, drinking a little, bathing, getting dressed. Your higher brain functions are alternating between "fight" and "flight," with occasional visits to the land of "this just can't be real."
Somewhere around Day Three many of us experience a shift into action. We enter the "cancer whirlwind," scheduling port installations, evaluating options. Making plans for work, travel and child care. The future begins to creep in, and after discussion with oncologists we begin to have a vision of the next month's events and schedule. Most importantly, our brains' higher functions start to kick in.
Day Two may mean follow-up appointments, dealing with your job and entertaining an endless stream of well-meaning visitors, hosting them when all you want to do is curl up in a ball and disappear from the world. Daily life is still a minimal function –eating a little, drinking a little, bathing, getting dressed. Your higher brain functions are alternating between "fight" and "flight," with occasional visits to the land of "this just can't be real."
Somewhere around Day Three many of us experience a shift into action. We enter the "cancer whirlwind," scheduling port installations, evaluating options. Making plans for work, travel and child care. The future begins to creep in, and after discussion with oncologists we begin to have a vision of the next month's events and schedule. Most importantly, our brains' higher functions start to kick in.
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