My friend Michael March was slated to do a follow-up interview — his “Exit Interview” as he called it — but our time was cut short on Easter Sunday. Two days prior to that, he had received a box of bobbleheads that are part of the fundraising program for his new foundation. This was his final video, the last chance he had to express his gratitude and hopes for what would come. In lieu of our planned conversation, his mother has given me permission to post this in his honor.
It should be noted that Michael’s Peter is his cat.
The day before he died, I understand that he re-watched the conversation we recorded for The Deep Breath. He had spoken to me about how important such conversations are, and how he wanted to help others through sharing his experience. In the end, however, we are left with only a few parting words from Michael. He had prepared the following farewell to be posted on his Facebook page after his death.
After a long struggle with my third cancer, I lost the fight. I died on April 16th.
I hope no one is sad about my passing. I had a wonderful life, filled with untold adventures and experiences. There is no reason to be sad. Death is just another part of life and for some, it's just the end we all meet. For others, it is not the end, but the beginning of what comes next. I'm looking forward to what comes next.
Thank you all for being a part of my life and try to remember me.
I hope one day we all get to meet again. But if we don't or when we do, between now and then, please look around, and find a way to make the world you live in, a little bit better.
While the official site of the Michael S. March Foundation was not fully operational before he died, there are links on it to the programs he was supporting and his other web pages. It is a great starting point to get to know the man and his values, and maybe to help support his vision now that his legacy has been passed along to the rest of us.
Rest in Peace, Michael.
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Yesterday was Easter. Today I am in the chair at the infusion center, watching a steady drip work its way into my arm. At some point over the next few days I will likely be scheduling an “exit interview” with a friend who is going to die from his cancer within the coming weeks. There is an interesting, perhaps timely mix of metaphor in all this. The holiday, for those who celebrate its religious significance, is about spiritual rebirth (and literal rebirth for the more fundamentalist among us). I look at these chemicals entering my bloodstream right now as agents of my own rebirth, my second chance at life for as long as it may last, a chance to try and get some things right while I am here. And my friend’s impending death is a reminder that, even with the best of science and consistent faith, these days do come to an end for us all, whether we are ready or not.
Michael March as been, as far as I can tell, a solid Christian and a man of reason. He chose to evaluate all available treatment options, pursuing even the difficult ones when they offered a clear explanation of potential outcomes backed by decades of studies and documented successes. For eight years, he has dealt with various cancers, outliving each prognosis because of committing to his treatments. But at each stage, from diagnosis to remission to reoccurrence, he has been forced to examine his own mortality and come to peace with the idea that he may not see another birthday or Christmas or, as is now the case, another Easter. This was his final celebration of his faith’s Resurrection Story. For Michael, there is a definite end to this existence as we know it, and he is facing it with the determination of ensuring a positive legacy. Continue reading Death, Rebirth, Living On→
Through the wonder that is Social Media, I’ve connected to a wide range of people with their own personal cancer stories. As an extension to this blog, and as part of the research for both a broader understanding of the treatment options out there in the big, wide world, and the book I have been slowly developing to help guide future patients and caregivers through this often difficult and confusing process, I have been collecting interviews from a growing pool of diverse perspectives. Most of these interviews end up in my Patreon feed, where my podcast/video blog has its official home.
One of my recent acquaintances was the wonderful Lizz, who writes a lively blog called The Drop Off, which recently acquired the subtitle of “TRAVERSING THE INCURABLE, HELP AND HUMOUR FROM A CANCER SUFFERS WIFE.”
My mother had recently received news about five friends and relatives dying within a four-day period. It seemed really stacked up, and then she got a call that her last remaining uncle was going into hospice care. While it would be another couple of days until he died, the early warning essentially brought the total news to six in under a week. Granted, she is “of a certain age” at which it is expected that her peers and associates will be ending this existence at an increased rate, especially those markedly older than herself. It happens. It’s a part of life. And it isn’t talked about enough.
As a culture, death makes us squeamish. It’s hushed up, spoken of mainly with euphemisms and generally avoided for its awkwardness. Worse, it is often treated as an embarrassment. Oh, why did Grandad have to die so…inconveniently? Perhaps he should have just gone on vacation and disappeared… “I’m sorry for your loss,” they all say, pitying you for being unable to arrange a cleaner exit for the dearly departed. But death is messy, sometimes. Death brings hurt, upends the cozy lives of the living, leaves an overwhelming amount of loose ends.
But death is a natural part of life — one that cancer patients often have staring at them right over the proverbial shoulder. In February, I interviewed Michael March about his, as he put it, “Final Journey.” Michael is dying from throat cancer that migrated to his lungs, after eight years of dealing with various cancer issues (including periods of remission). Our conversation ran the gamut, from the lack of education that people have in talking about death to the spiritual comfort some seek during their period of decline. Michael also opened up about the fear of suffering that still remains after having made peace with the idea of dying. Continue reading Death, Death and More Death, Naturally→
Saint Patrick’s Day brings with it my favorite meal of the year. Since childhood, I’ve been a sucker for corned beef and cabbage, my appreciation of these basic ingredients only growing as I’ve aged. And, of course, with the added appreciation of those other Irish staples, the boiled potato and a proper stout with a thick, creamy head. There is a certain luxury to these simple foods, and I await them with the sort of eagerness one might ascribe to a child who waits all year for the chance to unwrap birthday presents and blow out the candles on a cake. A year ago today, I insistently prepared this meal and looked forward to it with anticipation that was, in retrospect, somewhat ill-placed. Continue reading Cabbage, Then and Now→
Once in a while, I feel like it’s appropriate to update my meager readership on what is going on that is relevant to this blog and my other work, as well as recapping incidental anecdotes about life in general. Such is the justification for this post. Plus, I thought it might be nice to write something short after that last one… And since my next planned post is already proving to be a bit on the longer side, I’m looking at this like a small snack break between meals. (Well, comparatively small, anyway — I’m actually something of a heavy snacker most days.)
Living with cancer has, of course, its own set of challenges. Even if the cancer is well maintained, even if the response to treatment is going well, it complicates life in ways both predictable and unexpected on an ongoing basis. It adds stresses that might otherwise never present themselves. For example, for the past two years, every time I have a headache, no matter how small, it makes me question whether that is a sign of a brain lesion, some new metastases that had gone unnoticed, a harbinger of (for me) yet uncharted radiotherapy treatments or a potential ticking time bomb. And time, always, is on my mind, an urgency there underlying everything that I do; time is a limited resource and there isn’t a day that I’m not reminded of this. Continue reading Looking Back at the Week Ahead→
One of the great wedges used by the anti-medical and anti-science proponents of these alternative treatments is the suggestion that the mainstream medical community cannot be trusted because they are all about the profits and not about actually curing disease. The suggestion is that Big Pharma is something of a shadow organization, bribing doctors and hospitals in order to maximize their corporate wealth — and there is just enough truth to thatfor it to be believable. The conspiracy generally lumps in a wide range of health practitioners, insinuating that MDs are systemically part of the problem and that anyone who speaks out against potentially deadly alternatives is automatically a shill for pharmaceutical companies. I get that one leveled at me from time to time, in spite of the fact that I advocate for a well-rounded and well-researched approach to personal care.
As the alternative crowd is fond of saying, if you want to know who to trust, you should follow the money. See what any particular site has to gain for spreading its message and, when possible, look at personal motivations from the authors. I have been fairly transparent in this regard, but perhaps I could go farther with my history. I am no “True Believer” in the medical establishment, at least not insofar as I put blind faith in doctors to automatically do what is right and best for every patient. I do think that most doctors genuinely try and that they believe they offer the best solutions. But I have also witnessed patients being treated like cattle, given no real consideration, and pushed toward drugs or treatments they probably neither needed not benefited from. And I fervently believe that my own father was pushed toward an early death by being overly and improperly medicated by too many “specialists” who failed to communicate with one another or fully attempt an understanding of what was going on with his health. Continue reading The Truth About the Truth About Cancer – Myth of the Wellness Warrior Part 3→
I just put about two weeks’ worth of coffee into my body, so please consider that as you read these proposed guidelines for political postings on social media.
I decided to put these down because I have noticed so many friends falling off toward these two camps: those who are tuning out completely due to political news fatigue and those who are spun up into a frenzy of posting and reposting and forwarding and generally being outraged all the time (or at least every fifteen minutes between the odd stress-reducing cute animal pic or positivity meme).
The fact is, neither approach is helpful, and probably not healthy, either. We should all remain engaged, after all, or at least aware of what is going on around us. But we should not get lost in the process, nor should we be a part of the system of misinformation that has plagued our national politics for a long, long time. (That’s right, it is almost a national treasure, this “fake news” thing, and it goes right back to the beginning of our country’s history. That it appears to have reached some new apex in the past year is something of a natural progression, albeit a sad one. The challenge now is for the media to really keep it in check as it had done, more or less, for the past 120-ish years since the Hearst-induced Spanish-American War.)
I recently had the good fortune of interviewing a long-time friend and fellow Stage 4 cancer patient for my podcast, The Deep Breath. Usually, the podcast is just me running off at the mouth, dispensing my heavily biased advice or addressing questions that have come up in one way or another. Sometimes I just talk about my personal experience. My best (or at least my own favorite) recordings are those in which I interview someone with a different perspective than my own or from whom I can learn something interesting. This one was different, though, and required a different treatment.
When I think of Mike, I always imagine him as he was in high school. That is mostly due to the fact that I’ve only seen him a scant handful of times over the past 30 years, and none of those were particularly recent. We have stayed in contact primarily because of social media, both of us being part of a wide group of shared friends who have remained more or less civil toward one another even as we have spread apart geographically, politically and, outside of these virtual networks, socially. His story began to intertwine more tightly with my own about a year ago when he announced on Facebook that he had been diagnosed with colon cancer and was about to embark upon an uncertain course of treatment with chemotherapy. Continue reading Luck and Attention→
As a cancer patient on regular rounds of chemotherapy, this is a question that I have often asked myself. When I look in the mirror and see a body that I don’t recognize and the effects of the drugs on my brain have me under a heavy fog of malaise, it is easy to drop into the trap of defeatism. I have stared into my own eyes, wondering what had become of their prior yearning or that sly glint I imagined they used to have, and asked the mirror if this is what it feels like to die. To waste away into a reflection of what I was. To effectively disappear from the world, slowly, margin by margin, breath by breath. Continue reading Is This What Dying Feels Like?→