Ken Richter is a father who just found out that he has stage 3 cancer. He knows that his disease doesn’t care that he’s a father, but he does.
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Four months ago, I did 600 pull-ups in 59 minutes and 37 seconds. Cancer doesn’t care.
I’ve cycled over 200 miles in a day, and I’ve run an ultra marathon. I’ve dead-lifted 225 pounds fifty consecutive times, and I’ve captained champion rugby teams. Cancer doesn’t care.
Deserve? Fair? Cancer doesn’t care about these words, either.
I care, and, for the first time ever, I am afraid. I want to live. I have kids who need me, a beautiful partner who knows me. I’m in the middle of a life half-lived. Cancer doesn’t care.
Everybody says “You’ll beat this, Ken” or “You got this, man.” Really? What else are they supposed to say? It’s what I say, too. We all want to believe it. But facts are facts. Cancer kills lots of beautiful people. Kids, adults, parents, grandparents, friends, cousins, siblings, lovers… cancer really doesn’t care.
I am going to do everything in my power to stay alive. I’ll take in every prayer, chant, meditation, song, wave of goodness that the world has to offer. I’ll eat the right foods, and I’ll tune into my body and spirit and follow the path as I see it unfold. Many people face this deadly disease, but every journey is uniquely individualized.
But cancer won’t care. It’s not as much of a fight as a game of wits and will. Can the doctors and oncologists outwit the cancer, and can my body endure the suffering required to kill the cancer cells?
My life changed completely on April 10, 2014, when a doctor said to me “You have cancer. Sorry.”
I’m sorry, too, and I shed my tears and I yelled at the injustice, all to no avail. Cancer doesn’t care.
I’ve done so much to promote healthy living. Cancer caught me completely off guard, dumbfounded, but not defeated. I have a T3 lesion in my esophagus that is stage 3. That’s what the doctor says, but guess what? I don’t care.
Long or short, I have a life to live, and I plan to enjoy every minute while I learn, more deeply than I ever imagined, what is truly important to me. Cancer’s indifference will not define my daily reality.
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Image courtesy of the author.
Hello Ken, A mutual friend, Joni Nelson shared an email about you with her friends; I’m one of her friends. As a member of the Brownsville community, I want to offer my faith, as tiny as it may be, to your healing and strength as you and your family take on this new challenge. As I was reading your article and imagining the physical and mental strength you have already demonstrated, I have to say, you are someone I’d want on my team! I will be cheering for you!
Sincerely, Laura Holbrook
Laura, Thank you so much. I love my community and living in Brownsville has been wonderful for my family. I look forward to being part of the community for many years. I truly appreciate your message. Best to you, – ken
Ken is right. I’m not a survivor, but my now 8 1/2 year old son is. He was diagnosed with Medulloblastoma, a brain tumor, at 2 1/4. My perspective on life (and death) changed radically. One young doc gave us the best advice in the first few days, “Don’t let the cancer win, regardless of the outcome.” What she meant was, do what you can to maintain whatever level of normalcy, or even acts/activities of your normal life that you can. It was vitally important for our four year older daughter, who’s life was turned upside down, but also for… Read more »
Dan Tucker,
There’s much to be said on prayer and positive thinking. I will write more next week about my 12 year olds reaction to learning I have cancer. I am so happy your son survived, and hope you maintain a solid relationship with his mom. My Boys’ mom has been extremely helpful with me as I face this challenge, and I think it’s great for our boys to see that we are friends and we are still a family, albeit split.
Thanks for sharing your story. I applaud your son for his win.
-ken
John, sorry, I forgot to fillin my name and email on my post above to you. I didn’t intend to be anonymous…
I know this battle. I fought it. When you beat this, and you will, there us another fight to be fought. The fight of ” the new normal” the sky, tress, yiur partner; will be different. Better. The material things that you held so dear wont matter, standing, breathing and listening will mean so much more! A PA told me once ” the bad news is you have cancer, and the good news is…..you have cancer.” Id dint understand until it was over, but I have cahnged for the better. Please contact me if you need anything. John
Thank you, John. I’ve heard this from other survivors as well. It’s already happened in a big way. Perspective. The same week I was diagnosed, I lost a childhood friend to cancer. She made this same reference during her battle.
I intend to write about this new perspective in a future article. Next week I am sharing my story about telling my boys I have cancer. For me, it was the worst day of my life.
So nice of you to share and encourage. I appreciate you.
-ken