November 12 2024
Written by Mark Harris, an NRG Oncology Patient Advocate Committee Member
My foundation is built on two things. First is to look at the bright side of any challenge, remembering that you may not see it at first, but look for it; it's there. Second, is to keep the faith, no matter how bleak your circumstances may be at the moment. I met a man who was shot in the back when he escaped the concentration camp in Auschwitz, Poland, when he was 14. Upon meeting him, I could clearly see the numbers on his left wrist. One day I said to him, "While in camp, people are dying. You're praying every day. More people are dying, and yet you continue praying. How do you not lose faith?" He answered, "Mark, it's who you are! It's the foundation of who you are!" With these as my foundation, I've overcome the challenges that life throws at me.
For example, on Thursday, the evening of October 3, 2013, around 8 pm, I was watching a movie when the house phone rang. It was my urologist, Dr. Solomon. He informed me that the results from the biopsy were positive. "You have prostate cancer, but I'm going to do everything I can to help you," he says. Now, for many who have had their name and cancer in the same sentence, the first thought is, "I'm going to die!" However, the words that resonated with me were not that I have cancer, but "I'm going to do everything I can to help you!" I replied, "Thank you." I continued to thank him throughout the remainder of the call. Near the end, Dr. Solomon was probably thinking, this poor guy has lost it; I'm telling him that he has cancer, and he keeps saying, "Thank you." Dr. Solomon then said to me, as a point of emphasis, "Just to be clear, you have a cancer diagnosis, and I will help you," to which I again said thank you and hung up at 8:23 pm. My first thought was - do I tell my wife, my daughter, her mother, and my ex-wife?
I thought this because I see my role as a man, husband, and father. As the rock, the one who supports, the problem solver, and not the reason there is a problem, uncertainty, anxiety, and fear. I got over this thinking quickly and called out to my wife, who was in the other room, "The biopsy came back positive; I have cancer." She comes out quickly, "What!?" and I repeat that the results of the biopsy are positive for cancer. "What are we going to do?" I said, "Dr. Solomon says we will have a meeting next Monday to go over options to determine treatment. There was silence, and then "What are you going to do?" I say, "I don't know, I've never been down this road." Then, "What now?" and (this is where I probably messed up, but I'm in the moment), "Can't you see I'm watching TV? When she went back to the other room, I watched the rest of the movie. When the movie was over,I went to bed. The lack of distraction gave me time to think about the diagnosis. My human side said briefly, "I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die," but then my spiritual side said, "How are we going to use this to help others?" because that's what God does; He gives me experiences that allow me to fulfill my purpose, which is to help others.
Little did we know that, six days later, I would be helping my son Mychal, who had been diagnosed with adenocarcinoma of the parotid gland, cancer of the salivary gland. He had a rare form of cancer that was diagnosed at one hospital, but we were soon transferred to a larger hospital system. It was a blessing that I was diagnosed first because my 30-year-old son, who knew everything, listened to me. When I heard of my son's diagnosis, I did not go into parent mode thinking about how my son has cancer and he's going to die. I went into dad mode and said we are on this journey together and that we can support each other. When we got together that day, we talked, and then we listened to "Live Like You Were Dying" by Tim McGraw. Another blessing was that I had low-grade prostate cancer,so I put my health on hold to support my son during this time. On November 12, he had surgery to extract the tumor. It was necessary to remove his ear, also. When Dr. Specter, an otolaryngologist (ear, nose, and throat), a beautiful guy, told us that we think we got all the cancer, I didn't hear "We think," I only heard, "We got all the cancer," which means, at that moment it was undetectable. On December 18, however, the scan showed that the cancer had metastasized throughout his body. As a result, we started chemo on December 24, Christmas Eve. On February 27, 2014, my son, Mychal Démond Harris, was pronounced dead at 11:02 pm. God was with us the whole time. We had a memorial for Mychal on March 8. I had a radical prostatectomy on May 1. By the grace of God, I have had 10 years of undetectable cancer since then.
Some details, observations and learned lessons...
After hearing the phrase, "You have cancer," even though I am the same 2 feet away from you as before you said it, I'm really 3000 miles away, and I can't hear or receive anything from you.
The way that the diagnosis news was delivered to me was fantastic. I don't know if it was Dr. Solomon's intention, but it worked for me. He called my home Thursday night when I was with my wife. Our meeting was on Monday. That gave us several days to try to wrap our heads around the news. When you receive a cancer diagnosis, this thunderclap of reality awakens you from your illusion of guaranteed longevity.
October 3: the urologist calls to say that the biopsy is cancerous. I have cancer. Six days later, I got a call that the biopsy of my son was cancerous, he has cancer. P•A•U•S•E … because that's what life does, and when it restarts, your life's priorities are changed. There are very few things that change your life INSTANTLY, like having a loved one and/or your name and cancer in the same sentence. For many, their first thought is I'm dying because the word cancer is not spoken unless associated with death; the living and survivors don't talk about it. What I told my son was, "Really, we are all in the same boat. We are all going to die." Now I know that sounds morbid, but it's the truth. My friend would say as soon as we're born, we're going to die someday, and he's right. So the only difference is, when one gets a cancer diagnosis, they are reminded of their mortality, and death seems imminent, whereas others are oblivious of their mortality, and death seems far, far away.
October 3: When a life-impacting event takes place, you go into auto-pilot mode. There's no thinking. You do what you instinctively do, and your reaction is the real you. The Japanese call it mushin, which means "empty mind." I realized, in retrospect, that I had tucked the cancer news back somewhere in my mind (compartmentalized it), then slammed the door on it, and didn't think about it until I went to bed.
October 4: When I woke up, the question was, "Who do I tell, if anyone?" I asked that because a lot of people do not share this information. Hey, who am I kidding? I'm telling everyone! I truly believe that God gives me experiences so that I can help others. As I write this, I realize now that I didn't tell my daughter and her mother the night before. Interesting. I didn't even think about it. Anyway, I got to my first class; I had four that day, and I told them that I had received a cancer diagnosis. BIG MISTAKE! The very air was sucked out of that room, silence and sad faces abounded. God bless them for caring. I said, "Hey, I ain't dead yet." Laughter. Cool, life is good. Now, after class, I called my daughter and her mother. (I thought it would be a tough call, but not as tough as the one I'd make 4 months later.) I call my daughter first. I'm upbeat now because I've cast my cares upon the Lord. (1 Peter 5:7)I tell her about the diagnosis and that Dr. Solomon said he would do all he could to help us. When I called her mother, she said that she had talked to our daughter, who was freaking out. My daughter told her that "Dad was so calm," and she replied, "That's how he is." (by the grace of God)
So what now? After the initial diagnosis, you don't know what you need to know, so let's get as much information as possible and make a treatment decision based on that info. The seed was planted when, in our meeting with the urologist, who was a surgeon, suggested that we should see a radiation oncologist to get their opinion for treatment, which we did. At first, I was looking at all the people that we were meeting as physicians and not as specialists, so I was thinking that whoever I went to would be looking at the whole gamut of treatments, but after the third visit, I noticed that the specialists chose their specialty, which makes sense. I saw three surgeons and two radiation oncologists at three different hospital systems. When I was done, I confidently chose radical prostatectomy, understanding the process and the side effects, and was willing to live with the worst outcome but expecting the best.
Story to be continued...
Mark
"Life's a journey - travel well."
About the Author
Mark, a fitness instructor and personal trainer since 1999, became a prostate cancer advocate after his diagnosis in 2013. He is a Community Ambassador with the American Cancer Society, co-facilitator of the Michigan Institute of Urology prostate cancer support group, and Advisory Board member of the Michigan Medicine Rogel Cancer Center. Mark received the 2019 MIU Volunteer of the Year and is a Patient Advocate for various organizations, including NRG Oncology and ZERO Prostate Cancer. He has advocated for increased research funding and early detection on Capitol Hill. Mark participates in several advisory panels and research programs, contributing his expertise to improve cancer care.