Raw-Dogging It: Navigating Life with Butt Cancer
HOW IT STARTED
A woman from scheduling called to book me with Dr. Singh, an oncologist. "What’s an oncologist?" I asked innocently. "A cancer doctor," she explained, as though she were talking about something as mundane as a dermatologist. That’s how naive I was—I didn’t even know what an oncologist was.
I was sitting in my car, baking in the desert sun, when I got the phone call that would turn my world upside down. An ordinary Monday, suddenly much less ordinary. After hanging up, I didn’t break down. I didn’t cry. I lit a joint, reversed out of the parking lot, and drove off, cursing under my breath, still in disbelief.
Before that call, I thought I’d already been through enough. Surviving my mother’s suicide, moving across the country with no plan, and running a six-figure business amid the pandemic, floods, mold, and insurance denials. I even fasted for 40 days in the desert, convinced I was being tested by God, only to end up with Norovirus on day 35 and a colonoscopy that led to a shocking diagnosis: Rectal Cancer Stage IIIC.
The mass was the size of a dollar bill, just a finger’s distance from my backside. "It’s probably nothing," I told myself. But then came the call—the biopsy result that shattered everything. The other shoe had dropped.
Six months of silence followed. I retreated to the mountains, where I sat with cancer—not as an enemy, but as a teacher. Cancer doesn’t just invade your body; it forces you to face yourself—your fears, your weaknesses, your strength. It teaches you to sit with discomfort, to find peace in chaos, and to realize how much you’re capable of enduring when nothing feels certain.
It also teaches you to take care of yourself—mind, body, spirit, and soul. Cancer strips away the minutiae of life—the small, distracting details that keep you from truly focusing on what matters. Suddenly, you can’t afford the luxury of ignoring the things that sustain you, the things that make you whole. It forces you to listen to your body, to nourish your spirit, and to heal your mind, even when the world seems unrelenting.
In that stripping away, cancer has made me confront the essential question: What is my purpose with the short amount of time that I have left? It’s a brutal reminder that life is fleeting, and I must be deliberate in how I spend it. Cancer has given me clarity—not in the way I expected, but in a raw, unfiltered way that forces me to reevaluate everything that I thought I knew.
It showed me that control is an illusion. No matter how much you plan, life can throw you a curveball at any moment. Cancer isn’t just a diagnosis; it’s a reminder that things can change, and you have to be ready to change with them.
It also taught me that nothing is permanent. Not pain. Not fear. Not even joy. But in that transience, there’s freedom. And through the struggle, there’s a strange beauty in learning to let go.
This blog is my field journal. Raw. Unfiltered. A record of what it means to live with cancer—what it’s like to navigate a broken healthcare system, face the financial toll, and find moments of understanding about what cancer is teaching me, even when it feels like there’s none left.
Welcome to Stage IIIC—and just so you know, an oncologist is indeed a cancer doctor.
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How It’s Going
Navigating through the tempest of my health journey, I've come to face a stark reality: the odds are not in my favor medically or socio-environmentally. I have a 12-14% chance of survival. This truth isn't just a statistic; it's a daily companion, a shadow that lengthens with the waning light of day. Yet, it is in this shadow that I've found an unexpected gift—cancer, my—unwelcome yet profound teacher.
Your support has become my lifeline, more critical than ever. Without it, the scales may tip irreversibly. Each donation not only helps sustain my life, but also fuels this blog, where I unravel the complex tapestries of survival and spirit. It's here that I share how facing death can ironically breathe life into our days, making each moment more vivid, each breath a rebellion against the inevitable.
Cancer, in its cruel irony, has offered me the greatest gift: A piercing clarity of purpose and an unfiltered appreciation for life. Adversity, the fiercest of teachers, imparts lessons of resilience and strength that comfort cannot. It teaches us the value of struggle, and transforming pain into a powerful testament of the human spirit's endurance.
In this space, I continue to explore these lessons, sharing insights that reach beyond the personal into the universal.
Join and support me, as we, together unravel the profound lessons that only true adversity can teach. Here, cancer transforms from a mere disease into a catalyst for growth, an unlikely gift that continually shapes my existence—challenging, teaching, and offering glimpses of light amidst the darkest shadows.