F-U Cancer

I love Stuart Scott’s (NFL host on ESPN) attitude towards Cancer (he has the same cancer for the 3rd time).

Enjoy the full article at http://www.menshealth.com/


Here are a few parts that I enjoyed. He’s a great inspiration for someone like me:

— It recently came back a third time. To be honest, I’m scared. I’ve always been afraid of cancer, but this time feels different. My confidence is shaken. I’m a little more vulnerable, a little more aware of my mortality, a little more uncertain about my future. All of which just means I depend on my post-chemo workouts even more. In fact, recent research reveals eight stealth strategies to keep the killer at bay—working out is just one of them.

By “post-chemo workout,” I don’t mean a few days after a session of chemotherapy. I don’t even mean a few hours. I mean right after chemo.

— People always talk about the nausea that comes with chemotherapy. For me it’s more like a queasiness. And it can be intense. It’s an uncomfortable, gross kind of “blech” feeling. I have my chemotherapy every other Monday, and afterward I’m drained. Not quite on-my-back drained, but I would be if I waited 4 or 5 hours. So I take what little energy I have left and use it to work out. I go home and do some mixed martial arts, or I do a P90X regimen. I make myself have energy. It’s stubbornness in the face of cancer.

— But I’m 47 years old now, not exactly a young man anymore. And I’m fighting cancer for the third time. Either one of those facts might have been a good excuse to beg off. But I said, “Yeah. Sure I’ll play.” And not to brag, but I did pretty damn well. I can still sprint. You give me 40 yards, I’m still fast.

After it was over, I remember thinking, This must’ve pissed off cancer. Cancer doesn’t want a 47-year-old guy playing football and catching half a dozen passes, making touchdowns and holding his own with 25-year-old guys. That was a good day.

There are days that aren’t as good. There are days just after chemo when I’m running my daughters around to soccer practice and dance rehearsal, and pretty soon I’m on the couch, my pack by my side pumping me full of medicine—FU, cancer, FU!—and I really feel like crap. I feel like giving up. That’s the roller-coaster nature of it.

Stay strong friends, lots of love.


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