Open Letter to Survivors

November 4, 2009

Dear Survivors,

This journey, this roller-coaster called cancer survivorship is not something to be taken lightly. It is also, though, not something to be afraid of. We know we’re not quite the same as before our cancer diagnosis; the very fact that we were told “you have cancer” has forever altered our lives, the lives of those who love us, and our perspective on life. Maybe your new perspective is not the most positive; you feel as if you’re not the same person as before. Well, you’re right, you’re not the same person as before; I’d argue that you are a better person now than before you were a cancer survivor.

As a 22 year old college student and first time marathoner, I never thought I would get cancer. I didn’t fit the bill: I was young, healthy, no family history. When I finally went to the doctor to have a suspicious mass looked at, he said I had testicular cancer. My brain went into instant defense mode (or maybe it went into shock, probably both) as I replied “I don’t have time for cancer, I have finals next week and then a 6 week internship after that.” Cancer does not, and never will, come at a convenient time. This is one of the many maddening aspects of cancer: it never will fit into your schedule.

Through two surgeries (one which kept me in the hospital for a month) and two grueling months of chemotherapy, I was able to graduate only 3 months behind my class. I also began running again, so that I could physically and mentally heal from the treatments that saved my life but had ravaged my body. A year to the day that I got out of the hospital, and only 7 months after ending chemo, I ran a marathon in 3:08…good enough to accomplish my lifelong dream of qualifying for the Boston Marathon. I’m not ashamed to say that I cried at the end of that marathon. It was a release of emotion, from the lows of IVs, nausea and hair loss, to a new high of accomplishment and redemption. My comeback from cancer was complete…or so I thought.

Now, 11 years since I first heard those fateful words “you have cancer,” I find myself working in an area that was never on my radar before my cancer diagnosis. I am the physical therapist at a multi-disciplinary cancer survivorship program, where we address the very real physical and emotional concerns of survivors following their treatments. I have also begun working with a research team on proving the effects of exercise to enhance the quality of life of other cancer survivors. If I weren’t a cancer survivor, I doubt that I would have chosen these paths. The idea of the ‘obligation of the cured,’ a concept I learned from the Lance Armstrong Foundation, rings true within me. I got sick, I got better, but that’s not enough. I survived cancer for a reason, and I’ve discovered that one of those reasons is to help fellow cancer survivors.

And now…it’s your turn…

You don’t have to be in the medical field to fulfill your obligation of the cured. The act of calling a friend or co-worker who has been newly diagnosed may seem simple, even seem like its ‘not enough’, but that simple act lets that scared, confused person know that they are not alone. Volunteering at a race, ride or other event that benefits cancer survivors is another way to support fellow survivors. No matter what our story is, we are all part of the survivorship family. By helping other survivors, we can find our own redemption and meaning in why we are survivors.

--Scott J. Capozza, MS, PT

CT Challenge Cancer Survivorship Clinic at Yale Cancer Center

Research Assistant, School of Public Health, Yale University

11 year cancer survivor