Being a cancer patient is a lot like being an adventurer in a lot of ways

When you first find out you have cancer it's like being a young man or woman hearing the call to adventure. You're obviously scared, but you feel a sense of excitement, of purpose. You're going to set out on this journey, you're going to slay the dragon, find the treasure, and come home to a hero's welcome.<br><br>And then you look at the map of the world you're about to enter, and you realize how little you know about the world. You're a blacksmith or a farmer, not a warrior or a wizard, and you have no idea where to even begin. You try talking to people, but the ones who have gone on the journey don't want to talk about it and the ones who haven't have all these preconceived notions and ideas that don't really help.<br><br>You decide to join a guild, and by that I mean hire a doctor, and they guide you through the steps of getting ready to set out. You're going to go to a lot of specialty shops, and by that I mean you're going to go to a lot of different doctors. You're going to struggle wrapping your head around what's going on, and you're going to wonder how other people do it without a guide. In my case I was especially confused, since I was young and had considered myself otherwise healthy. I was kind of like a chosen one, destined to go on the journey for reasons I didn't totally understand.<br><br>After that you set out, and you start to realize just how unprepared you are. Every step of the way you're learning new things, meeting new people, and trying to keep yourself alive. At some point the excitement and confusion sort of...drain out of you, and you're left with this sense of purpose and trudging forward. You're going to walk five hundred miles, and then you're going to walk five hundred more, and at the end of all those miles you're going to be tired and hungry and you're STILL going to have to fight a dragon.<br><br>But you do it, you fight the dragon, and the first time it's absolutely terrifying. But you come out the other side, and you've got this amazing feeling of pride and accomplishment. You spent years of your life training for this, and you did it. You killed the dragon. Then you realize there's more dragons, and you have to set out again. And again. And again.<br><br>And you do! You just keep going. Every step of the way you're terrified and exhausted and in pain, but you keep going, and eventually you get to the point where you can see the end of the road. You're going to go home! You're going to get to rest! You're going to get to eat all the food you want and sleep in bed all day and walk as little as you want. You're going to go home, and you're going to be a hero.<br><br>But you're not home yet. See, there's one last dragon, one last boss fight, one last epic struggle. You're going to have to be braver than you've ever been, stronger than you've ever been, and more clever than you've ever been. And then you're going to go home.<br><br>And when I finally got to go home, I was so weak I could barely make it from the car to the house without having to stop and rest. I fell into my bed, slept for twenty four hours, and then I got up, I walked to my refrigerator, I opened it, I saw all the food I had, and I realized I couldn't eat any of it. Everything tasted like cardboard, and I didn't have the teeth to chew it with anyway.<br><br>I sat in my armchair, surrounded by presents I hadn't had the energy to open, flowers I couldn't smell, and I cried. I cried because I finally felt safe to, I cried because I had made it through, and I cried because I finally understood what it means to be a veteran of this disease. It took me five years to learn that lesson, and I finally get it. Being a cancer patient *is* a lot like being an adventurer.<br><br>Except for one very important part: there is no treasure.<br><br>&#x200B;<br><br>Edit: I should probably mention that I'm physically OK now, other than the fact that I might have just given myself a panic attack. I've reconstructed my jaw with bone from my leg, and I have all my teeth back now, although they're not quite right and I will probably have problems with them for the rest of my life. Chemotherapy is not fun, but it doesn't make you feel like you're dying all the time. Radiation is basically just a job, you go in the morning and you come home in the afternoon, you go home and you go to bed, you go to work, you go to treatment, you go to bed. I was **very** lucky, I didn't have to move for treatment, I didn't go into debt, I was able to work the whole time. I was also very unlucky, I was diagnosed with a rare cancer that is, overall, not particularly dangerous but is dangerous in young people. I had a disfiguring tumor in an important part of my body, which meant that I had to have a lot of reconstructive surgery both to be able to eat again and to not look deformed. Overall I consider myself very lucky to have made it through the journey, I'm just not happy about it.<br><br>Treatment ended almost a year ago, and I've spent that time feeling like I was wandering in a wilderness. I'm finally starting to feel like I'm finding my way out of it, but for a long time I just couldn't understand that there was no treasure waiting at the other end. As a patient, you hear a lot about this pot of gold that's waiting for you at the end of your journey. When you're done with treatment, you'll feel better! You'll be able to do all the things you couldn't do! You'll have all this free time and you'll finally have the energy to do everything you want to do!<br><br>Except that's not true. What really happens is you wander around in the wilderness for a while, trying to figure out what you want to do with all that time and energy. You have to learn how to do everything all over again, because a lot of the time the way you did things before isn't going to work anymore. And you come to a realization: there is no treasure. There is no chest in a cave somewhere that you get to open when you've killed all the dragons. There is no pile of gold somewhere that only veterans get access to. You don't get anything for having gone on your journey, you just...went on it. And you have to be OK with that.<br><br>I'm not OK with it yet, but I'm working on it.<br><br>Edit 2: I don't know if anyone will see this, since it's a few days since I originally posted. I've been trying to go through all the comments, but there are a lot and I'm still pretty overwhelmed by it all. I just wanted to say thank you, everyone who commented. I've been feeling really alone for a long time, and it was really touching to me to hear all of your stories and get all your rewards. I got gold, platinum, and a replica katana, among other things, and I appreciate all of it. I also want to say that if you're reading this and you're on your own journey, keep going. There may not be any treasure waiting for you, but you're not alone and there are still wonders to be seen along the way.