LeCaptain Talks LeCancer

When I was diagnosed, I learned very quickly that people, especially strangers, really have no idea how to talk to someone who has just revealed that they have cancer. It's no fault of their own - I think (most) people genuinely mean well and sometimes just miss the mark and say something like: "Oh you have colon cancer? My grandpa/uncle/dentist died of that." "You don't look like you have cancer." "But you still have hair!" "Let me know if there's anything I can do."  That last one makes the list because it is an empty statement. I'll explain why later. Then there are the slightly less well-meaning people who think they are helping you but are actually just helping themselves to feel as though they did something good by "helping" someone else:  "Have you tried [insert miracle cure]? You should try [woo-woo magic potion]." I have already written a whole post about these people, so I won't expound on this m...

 I saw Wicked  on my birthday. I've seen this show 5 times. I know what happens. I know all the songs. I've seen all the special effects. There are no surprises. And yet, I cried. I cried at least 6 times.  During the opening number, Galinda the Good Witch started singing a line I have always particularly liked the melody of:  And goodness knows, the Wicked's lives are lonely Goodness knows, the Wicked die alone I swiftly felt my chest seize and my throat clench. All of a sudden my eyes were burning with tears. Then the tears were soaking my face. I was full-on silently sobbing. This happened at least 5 more times throughout the rest of the show. (Don't even get me started on Defying Gravity .) It wasn't the lyrics that made me get so emotional. It took a moment for me to realize that it was the thought of being up on that stage, performing. Something I haven't done in nearly 3 years.  Have I thought about getting back into auditioning? Of course. Does it give m...

If you came here hoping to read wild conspiracy theories about how chemotherapy is a tool meant to keep the sick sick, you've come to the wrong place. The "truth" in the title of this post refers to what going through chemotherapy treatment is really like, from one person's experience. Going through chemotherapy involves setting a lot of alarms. It involves taking a lot of pills. It involves eating a lot of beige food. It hopefully does not involve a lot of vomiting, if the load of pills you've taken are doing the job they are meant to do.  People going through cancer treatment are often depicted as sickly and pale, with sunken eyes and a scarf around their bald head. Now, I'm not saying that there aren't people who look like this when they go through treatment, because it really does a number on you, but this just seems like the extreme version.  The truth is, a round of chemo doesn't end once they disconnect the IV and send you home. It doesn't e...

Have you ever scrolled through Netflix searching for something to watch and you come across a movie you haven't seen in years, and you wonder if it still holds up or if it's a horrible dated mess? I do that with every old movie I watch, but I ask myself: Will this movie hit different now that I have cancer? Take A Walk To Remember  for instance. You know it: Mandy Moore is the dumpy, nerdy preacher's daughter who is revealed to have terminal cancer after making the hunky leading man fall in love with her (but she TOLD HIM NOT TO!!!) and she dies at the end but not before having the wedding of her dreams and doing all the things on her bucket list with the help of Shane West.  I saw that movie in theaters in 2002 with my friend Sara and we cried our EYES out. What a sad movie!! Shane West? What a beautiful man!! And Switchfoot?? What a mediocre Christian soft rock band!!!!! Anyway. You'd think that now that I actually have cancer myself that this movie would absolutely w...

Today I filmed myself answering questions for an interview with a web news channel (more on that to come) and I had to answer the question: Who has been your biggest support throughout all of this? The answer was easy: Kevin, the guy at the McDonald's drive-thru who always puts extra fries at the bottom of the bag for me. Just kidding. If you know my parents, you know that they are A) the best parents and B) way cooler than yours. So it should be no surprise at all how quickly they sprang into action when I told them that what I thought was a UTI was actually cancer. I can't imagine what that feels like, to find out that your child, not to mention your youngest, has cancer. I will likely never have kids of my own so I may never know. And honestly, I hope none of you reading this ever find out.  Before I dive into just how amazing my parents are, I need to acknowledge how fortunate I am to have supportive parents who love me as much as they do. I know this. And I'm grateful....

If you've ever wondered what the worst part about having cancer is, I can tell you. It's not wondering how much time you have left to live. It's not the scanxiety (anxiety about what your scans look like). It's not the chemo. Okay, maybe it's the chemo. The chemo really sucks. I can tell you what the second  worst part about having cancer is: The unsolicited medical advice you receive from absolute random strangers. When you reveal to people that you have cancer (or any disease or illness, really), you are opening the floodgates for people to tell you their woo-woo miracle cures and alternative treatments. For some reason, your simply existing with this illness makes some people assume that you want to hear how their great uncle's dentist's mother's dogwalker cured his cancer. Some of these pieces of advice are seemingly innocent - though no unsolicited advice is ever truly innocent, as the person receiving the advice never asked, and it can honestly be...