Home » Archives for CancerCanuck » Page 4

CancerCanuck

My name is Jason Manuge. I'm an early onset Stage IV colorectal cancer survivor. You can find me on social as CancerCanuck!

Ramblings from a Chemo Session

Sitting in the chemotherapy unit, I can't help but look around at the different people who find themselves in such a terrible place. Here, under the glow of mismatched fluorescent lights, between the clinical, beige walls of the hospital, people are fighting for their lives.

The truth is, I’m tired.

Dealing with cancer since February has been exhausting. As I approach my final few rounds of chemotherapy, I can't help but wonder how long the exhaustion will last. Will I ever find my energy again, or am I doomed to be a husk of my former self?

On Breast Cancer Awareness Month

October 1st marked the beginning of breast cancer awareness month. Believe it or not, this also marks a very divisive time in the breast cancer community. As a result of all of the pink ribbon campaigns, there's a real sense that the pinkwashing of an extremely deadly disease undermines the severity of breast cancer. Metastatic breast cancer always kills.

The Five Tiers of Hope

One of the quick lessons that you learn when you're diagnosed with cancer is just how important it is to hold hope as you navigate the gauntlet of tests, scans, and treatments. For those living with cancer, hope is a concept that can change rapidly and unexpectedly. When cancer becomes metastatic, hope looks a lot different than it does with less advanced cancers.

It’s a Marathon, not a Sprint

I'm marching toward the last of my planned chemotherapy treatments, carefully counting the days until I no longer feel like trash due to the wonderful, awful drugs being pumped into my veins every two weeks. It's hard to believe that, in eight months minus one day, I'll have been diagnosed, had surgery, and completed my planned treatments.

Lessons from Cancerland

When I was attending the Gathering of Wolves, I really wanted to learn more about what people experience so that I can include some of the thinking in my advocacy work, which is quickly becoming more than supporting and engaging with people on social media. For this piece, I've also drawn from conversations I've had with people in support groups and on social media. I'm not going to attribute the lessons to specific people out of privacy and respect, but I do think a lot of these are valuable to share.

On Brotherhood and Cancer

This past weekend, I had the privilege and honour of attending Man Up to Cancer's inaugural Gathering of Wolves in Delevan, New York. It was a sacred and special event for so many reasons, but being able to be a part of the first one is an experience that I will never forget. Around sixty men, spanning countries, ages, and types of cancer came together to share our experiences, swap stories, and finally meet each other face to face after all of the Zoom calls, private chats, and Facebook interactions we've had with one another. The profound, transcendent effect this will have on my life is indescribable, but I'll do my best to give a taste.

Am I Just a Tourist?

I've been reflecting a lot on a powerful quote from author Susan Sontag. It may be familiar to some, but it's especially fitting as someone who's going through a cancer diagnosis (as she was when she penned it). "Everyone who is born holds dual citizenship, in the kingdom of the well and in the kingdom of the sick. Although we all prefer to use the good passport, sooner or later each of us is obliged, at least for a spell, to identify ourselves as citizens of that other place." Will I get back home? Susan Sontag, from Illness as a Metaphor

Meat Sleeve Betrayal

I'll let you in on a secret that nobody tells you when you're diagnosed with cancer: you feel like you lose your body autonomy. If you want to be treated, anyways. That's not to say there's no choice in the matter. You can proceed with treatment, which means consenting to an array of testing, needles, surgeries, and drugs being thrown at you. Alternately, you can do nothing and allow your body to be overrun with disease.

Let’s get heavy: What’s the prognosis?

I'm asked often if I know whether treatment is working. With so many appointments and professionals involved, you'd think that it would be straightforward enough to know whether chemotherapy is having a positive effect. But cancer treatment, like the disease itself, is complex and—at times—unpredictable. Sure, there are statistics (which are scary as hell) and likelihoods that help inform outcomes, but the efficacy on a case-by-case basis is variable and only so predictable.