Nothing I did contributed to me having cancer, so I can't sit back and say, 'Oh why me.' Why not me? Why does tragedy always have to hit someone else?
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
Having cancer empowered me to take more risks. I knew beating cancer was going to shape me, but it wasn't going to be all of me.
We all live with cancer, whether it is present in ourselves or affects someone we love.
When they told me I had cancer - a very rare form called appendiceal cancer - I was shocked. But I went straight into battle mode. Every morning, I'd wake up and have an internal conversation with cancer. 'All right, dude,' I'd tell it, 'go ahead and hit me. But I'm going to hit you back even harder.'
It seems everybody has been somehow affected by cancer, either through a relative or a close friend or somewhere, and they know how devastating cancer can be. And they see me, and I refuse to let it affect how I live and what I do.
I guess I wanted to show people, among other things, that you don't have to be a hero to get through cancer. You can be a craven coward and get through. You have to stay on your medication and take your treatments, that's all.
I've been a lucky man. I've only faced one real tragedy: the death of my wife, Maggie, from cancer in 1995.
The battle against cancer has made me strong. It's like winning a war! When I was diagnosed, I was told by doctors my kidney, liver and other organs could fail. It was tough. I didn't know if I could save my life. But I was positive, and because of that, the doctor told me that I would be a man who would never have cancer.
Cancer softened me up. I like the old me better. I liked being angry. It made me feel strong.
Like millions of others, I have been plagued by the devastating effects of cancer hitting not one, but multiple members of my family.
People come up to me and say somebody in their family has cancer, and we appreciate what you do, and we appreciate your fight, and don't give up, we love your attitude.