In 2005, I was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma at the age of 22 (see: Living With Lymphoma). I had just graduated college, and received my first job offer and cancer diagnosis on the same day. Even though I couldn’t take the job, I was determined not to let it ruin my summer. I slyly asked my oncologist if I could attend a Journey concert (not mentioning that it would be two concerts, two days, two cities, and that I would be working on the band’s street team). He said yes, likely assuming that I’d be sitting down and nodding to the music. Yeah, right.

The first show, in Holmdel, NJ went off without a hitch (except for my funky dance moves, which really was spazzing from my post-Neulasta injection bone pain). Two nights later at Jones Beach, Long Island, I was determined to have even more fun. I danced wildly to “Don’t Stop Believin,’” ran to the stage to catch a flying drum stick, and even went backstage to meet the band. In the midst of all the excitement, the temporary port that was put in my arm for chemotherapy fell out. Oops.

Me and Journey lead singer Steve Augeri, the night my port fell out

The next day, I marched into the oncologist’s office with the snaking port in a gallon-sized Ziploc bag. The RN looked at me incredulously, and said, “Don’t you know that you are sick?”

I replied, “I’m not sick, I just have cancer.”

I wasn’t sick. Perhaps minorly inconvenienced. Cancer wasn’t, isn’t, and will never rule my life, and yesterday, I had the pleasure of meeting hundreds of young adult cancer survivors with the same kick-ass attitude at I’m Too Young For This! Cancer Foundation‘s third annual OMG! Cancer Summit for Young Adults at Pace University in New York City.

When I was originally diagnosed, I admit that I was scared. I had a somewhat rare form of lymphoma that mostly hits adults in their 50s and 60s, and didn’t know much about fighting cancer. I went to church the week after the diagnosis, where a woman came up to me and said, “I want you to meet my friend. She had cancer, and can tell you all about it.”

She walked me over to her friend, and introduced me. Apparently, her friend was not warned that she’d be talking to me. She put her nose up and said, “We don’t talk about that. It never happened.” Then she walked away. Walked away. She had a chance to do something good, but instead shunned me.

That was only the beginning of the isolation I felt as a young adult with cancer. Sure, I had family and friends to support me, but most didn’t understand what I was going through, except my friends Sheena and Tanya, who were also young. Most cancer survivors I met were much older, and didn’t have the prospects of a post-college life ahead of them. I sat down once with a social worker, who suggested I go on anti-depressants and see a psychiatrist even before I opened my mouth (and not realizing how okay I was with having cancer). And I was the only person under the age of 45 who attended my local  Look Good… Feel Better program. There weren’t many resources for cancer patients my age.

What I learned yesterday: there are over a million young adult survivors out there like me. Seventy thousand young adults aged 15-40 are diagnosed with cancer each year, yet our survival rates and quality of life has not increased in the past 30 years – 10,000 die each year, which according to i[2]y’s website is seven times greater than those who die of childhood cancer (check out i[2]y’s sizzle video for more stats). Not cool.

Despite the odds stacked against many of us, I did not meet one Debbie Downer in that room. We’re not sick, we just have cancer. Even a thirtysomething woman who is scheduled for a radical double mastectomy in two weeks had one of the biggest smiles in the room. Lymphoma, leukemia, cervical cancer, brain cancer, testicular cancer, uterine cancer, sarcoma, melanoma, nasopharyngeal carcinoma – those weren’t even half of the cancers I encountered. We shared similar stories of being misdiagnosed, the fun side effects, our uncertainties, and our hopes. Regardless of our different diagnoses, we were all there for a common cause: to collaborate, communicate, and get the message out there that the young adult cancer community will no longer be ignored.

The summit included panel discussions on oncofertility, employment and insurance, social media advocacy (neat video they showed), sex and relationships, and survivorship. There were also keynotes by Stand Up 2 Cancer‘s Diane Balma and Survivor: Africa winner Ethan Zohn (check out his video on cancer filmed for People magazine). One of my favorite quotes came from testicular cancer survivor Matthew Imerman, who said we should be called cancer crushers rather than survivors.

After I went back to work in 2006, I lost touch with my cancer self and a lot of what I promised to do for others undergoing treatment, including volunteering. Yesterday inspired me to return to the cause and not become the person who shunned me when I needed help. When I got home, I signed up for Imerman Angels as a survivior. I’m also walking in the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society’s Light the Night Walk for the fourth year ( join me October 23 at Citibank Park on Long Island, or donate).

If you couldn’t attend the summit, it was taped – you can view the video here.

Other Recommended Links:

• i[2]y: Website | Twitter | Facebook | The Stupid Cancer Show
• Oncofertility: My Oncofertililty | Fertile Hope
• Employment and Insurance: Cancer Legal Resource Center | CancerCare | Cancer and Careers
• Social Media: Mashable
• Support: Tamika & Friends | Life With Cancer | Imerman Angels | The Yellow Umbrella | First Descent
• Times Square’s Naked Cowboy gives cancer the finger (via i[2]y founder Matthew Zachary)

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