By Joe Santos Jr.
Cancer. Yep, that word. That dreaded disease. So many of us think about it or have thought about it as something that happens to other people. Well, one of those other people it happened to was my Mother. She was diagnosed in January 1988 and died in August 1988. Seven months. Gone. From healthy, vibrant, and beautiful to frail, weak, and physically broken. What was not broken was her spirit, her hope, her faith. She communicated every day about how much she loved us. Despite however long she had left, it was not going to be spent in the negative or the deficit. We were going to spend it in plenty, with humor. Strength, courage, miracles, positivity, beauty were the focus. She was creating moments out of seconds to last a lifetime. That was her way. Her say.
Fall of 2020, Cancer came looking for me and found me. There are so many reactions and emotions I can say I experienced in hearing its name. None of them were predictable. None expected, and none of them prepared! More on that later.
When I was told of my Mother’s diagnosis, I fell apart. I ran from it. I couldn’t fathom how my life would be without her. However, it was my Father who, upon learning of her illness, brought the family back together for the light, for the fight. (My parents had been divorced for ten years).
The funny thing about fighting a battle, no matter how strong the soldier, how sophisticated the weaponry, it’s the uncommon valor we are left with that determines the success of the war. We, as a family, fought the fight together and lost that fight together. But we, as a family, have learned perseverance.
My Father called a Family meeting. His plan was simple. Together we can find the miracle. He moved us all into his sprawling home in the Hollywood Hills. My Mother had a suite on the first floor, my Brother took one on the second floor, and our chosen Brother Philip and I shared the guesthouse by the pool. We were armed forbear!
I was working on my third film (on set) as Private Chef to one of my favorite actor/clients. As usual, our days are long. I was starting early and ending late. I’m blessed with natural energy and no stranger to hard work. I thrive in it. The shoot was three months long. By the middle of month two, I started feeling fatigued and irritable. My concentration and focus were off. But I’m not a complainer and thought to myself, Ok boy, slow down! You are either overdoing it or feeling your age! So, I talked myself into it being only another month, and then I’ll take a vacation to relax and reset once we wrap. And I did exactly that. By the time I got back from a month-long vacation, I knew something was up. I can’t stress enough the importance of listening to one’s body. Upon my return, I saw my doctor and took a series of blood tests, examinations, and scans. An MRI showed concern, followed by a Pet and then a biopsy. The dreaded disease, the most frightening word in any language, is still CANCER.
There it was spoken again—this time, about me. I still don’t have the words to adequately describe what it felt like hearing it (let alone what the deafening silence felt like, sounded like). I must have replayed it over and over in my head 100 times. You have Cancer. You have Cancer. As familiar as that word was/is/has become, it was now a total stranger. Cancer. I have Cancer. Shit, now what? Just as my life has come together, finding success, contentment, true love, reflection, purpose. How do I share this with my family? My partner? My best friends? What about my career? My goals, dreams? Is this it? How long will I have if I choose not to have treatment? Will I be hooked up to machines and wither away? Oh, no thanks! Do I empty my accounts, sell all my stuff, hop a midnight flight and have one last fabulous “Night in Dixie”? I breathed. I breathed. I breathed. Then, I exhaled. I left any thoughts of drama to Netflix. I sat down with my partner and my loved ones. I consulted my Doctors and my Doctor friends! I sought advice and options. I spoke with friends and friends of friends and close family members who have been through it and not only survived but championed. I decided, ok, let’s do this. After discussing and revising options ( I was fortunate to be allowed choices),
I opted for surgery.
I was lucky. I was in stage one. The surgery was 6.5 hours long and a complete success, although painful with a slow but steady recovery and some not so attractive side effects. But I’ve been assured that they are temporary. What is lifelong from here is my gratitude, to God, to Buddha, the Universe, my Doctors, Nurses, family, friends, and strangers who continue to renew my faith and reward me with their gifts of kindness, patience, understanding, and love. This time, we found the miracle my Parents taught us to look for. To them, and to all, I say, Thank you.
If I can say anything that may help in the thought process ( and this is very much a thought process ), do whatever you can to find and sit in the positivity of the situation. Listen to your silence, your Doctors, your body, and its soul. Find your resolve, find your peace. Then, get off your ass and challenge it with everything you’ve got! Surround yourself with like-minded people who can support and love you. Fill your everyday with emotional soldiers who are always there to help you reload when you are out of “amo”. Build your army! Win or lose, the HERO never dies! The Hero never dies because the Hero is the fight, the light. The Hero is our faith, and the determination, the focus, and the courage to see beyond the forest. Push yourself to see beyond the dark, beyond the unknown. Blessings come to us as we learn the lessons to which they are attached. Take nothing and no one for granted. Respect the process—search knowledge.
Maybe some of us are only supposed to be here for a short time, others for long. We don’t know. But we are undoubtedly here to learn, teach and grow. So, whatever life has in store, make your impression. Leave your impression.
