Hairless, Happy and Healthy (eventually)

There are certain dates that stay with you forever. For me, March 30, 2006, is one of those dates. That was the day I was diagnosed with cancer.

The weird thing is, I already knew I had it. When I first discovered the symptoms, I immediately began looking for what else it could be. I wanted to find something less serious than cancer on which I could focus. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find anything else that matched my particular set of symptoms.

It was during that research that I first heard about inflammatory breast cancer (ibc). It was the only thing out there that matched my symptoms, and I’d never heard of it. This is a little sad considering that it’s an extremely aggressive form of breast cancer that doesn’t present itself as a lump (although it might accompany other cancers that do).

For all of the breast cancer awareness marketing that is going on, no one really talks about ibc. This is probably due to the fact that it is fairly rare. Less than 5% of all breast cancer cases diagnosed each year are ibc.

I tried to make myself believe that I had something else, because everything I read about this disease frankly scared the s--- out of me. I don’t know how much you know about cancer, but there are 5 main stages of cancer, stage 0 being the earliest and stage 4 being metastasis, at which time the cancer cells have moved into other parts of the body through the blood or lymphatic system. Each of these 5 main stages are broken down further based on your symptoms.

In stage 3, the cancer has moved into your lymphatic system, but has not yet moved into other parts of the body. At its earliest detection, ibc is already in stage 3b. So, being diagnosed with ibc can be terrifying. What’s more terrifying is to know that as little as a decade ago, this disease was 100% fatal. Today, about 50% of women survive. That’s a huge improvement over ten years ago, but on March 30, 2006, it was little comfort.

I spent the remainder of 2006 (and the beginning of 2007) fighting my cancer. I allowed myself to grieve for a few days, then I pulled myself together and became determined that this disease was not going to take my life. And, somehow, as soon as I made that decision, I knew everything would be okay.

One of my doctors told me that he had observed in his own patients that those who stayed active seemed to do better than those who were inactive. I don’t think he was referring to how well they responded to treatment or with what frequency they recovered; I think he simply meant that people seemed to deal with the treatment better when they were active rather than when they were not. I took that advice to heart.

At the time I was diagnosed, I was getting ready to film The Friends’ Guide to Beer & Sex, a screenplay that I had co-written with my producing partner, Paul Stacy. We had already cast the film and rehearsals were due to begin in about two weeks. This film was very important to me, and I really didn’t want to have to put off filming for a year. We had a great cast, and we were really excited to get started.

Prior to casting (and prior to my diagnosis), Paul and I had agreed to divide and conquer the duties of producing this film. He would be responsible for all of aspects of the camera work. He would be the director of photography, lay out the storyboards (based on our discussions), handle cinematography, take care of the crew, etc. I would work with the actors to rehearse scenes, direct the actors on set, work with scheduling, etc., again, based on our discussions. We knew that this could work really well because we really trusted each other to express our vision. Our division of labor would ensure that things ran smoothly on set, but it would require that we both be present on every single day of filming. It also required us both to contribute a lot of additional work off set.

When I was diagnosed, we discussed the challenges that we would be facing as I began chemotherapy. We decided to move forward with the film, with the understanding that there may be days when I wouldn’t be capable of being on set. However, I really didn’t want to give up my dream. My recovery was about living, so I really didn’t want to give up those things that made me feel most alive.

As it turned out, I almost never had to miss a day of filming. In fact, working on the film project brought such energy and joy to my life, that I really believe it played a role in my successful recovery. There were days when I showed up on set so tired that I literally couldn’t stand up. But I derived so much energy from doing something I loved so much that by the end of the day, I would forget that I started the day feeling so tired.

We filmed two to three times a week for close to five months. And, prior to that, I held rehearsals every week for about six weeks. And during most of that time, I was receiving chemotherapy every other week. And, did I mention that I was also working a full-time job?

Towards the end, the cast and crew took a month off while I recovered from surgery. Then, we got back to work and finished filming. As I write this, we are nearing the end of post-production and have begun working on other projects. But, for the rest of my days (which I hope are many), I will always treasure The Friends’ Guide to Beer & Sex. And not just because it was my first feature-length film, but because, in many ways, it was my lifeline during the summer of 2006.

Oh, yeah, the cancer? Gone.