Health

I thought I graduated from Cancer School on January 12 when I rang the bell after 36 sessions of radiation. Three days later, I was on Good Morning, America. A day after that my book came out. And, the day after that, I was blowing air kisses to Hoda on The Today Show set. I felt surprisingly remarkable as ending the radiation and being off my hormone depletion pills gave me such a spurt of energy.

Over my nearly two months of radiation, I drank alcohol just four nights or about once every other week, as compared to usually drinking five to six nights per week. This wasn’t easy over the “holi-daze” with all the social drinking, but it was easier in January when it seemed like almost everyone was abstaining.

Today is my last radiation treatment.

Cancer is a demanding teacher, much like my second-grade teacher, Mrs. Stump, who insisted on complete attention and once said to me, “If you’re not giving me attention, I’m going to give you some tension.” In deference to my cancer teacher, who also wants me to be a good student, I wanted to share the four key lessons I’ve learned so far. These insights have come during the course of almost half of my 36 weekday radiation treatments, which are being complemented by ongoing hormone depletion therapy such that I have 1% of the testosterone in my body as compared to the past.

Yesterday, when I saw a friend, she greeted me with the title of today’s blog post. I wonder what she’ll say today after I start my seven and a half weeks of daily targeted radiation to my pelvis, where my prostate cancer has spread. I’m not sure radiation will “glow me” or “dim me,” but I know the day after I finish this regimen (and continue my hormone depletion therapy), I fly to NYC to launch my book on “Good Morning, America,” “The Today Show,” and a variety of other book signings, media interviews, and parties. 

I’ve been crying a lot the past week. I lost a mentor two decades older than me. My last episode of Mad Men, much of which takes place at the Esalen Institute - a place where I have a long history with my mentor - had me bawling my eyes out. I watched a mediocre film “50/50” with Joseph Gordon-Levitt who is dealing with a cancer diagnosis. I felt sick to my stomach while trying to be entertained by the big-C.

How does one respond to a cancer diagnosis? For some, it's an all-out war: "I'm gonna beat you, Cancer." For others, it's an acquiescence: "I'm surrendering to you, Cancer… you're bigger than me."