I guess I live my life out loud, meaning I share personal information that many other people would not. Like these jottings about my bout with cancer.
Shortly after my first surgery to remove the tumor, I told my friend Nikki—who has breast cancer and also lives her life out loud, who has shared on social media photos of her bald head from chemo and pictures of her hair when it grew back again—that it suddenly seemed like all my friends have had cancer. It took the life of my friend Louise. My friend Irene had it. My nephew has had radiation treatment, and I never knew. And I could keep listing them.
Sunday morning my friends Jacob and Brianna stopped by for a visit. It was barely an hour after I had shaved off my facial hair. I explained to them that the doctor said I would lose hair from my mustache, that it would never grow back, and I had to shave my mustache off before starting radiation. I thought a beard without a mustache would look ridiculous on me, so I shaved it all off.
Brianna said to Jacob, “Show him yours.”
He turned his back to me and lifted the longish hair that hid the two big bald spots caused by radiation treatment when he was 16 years old.
Brianna said the reason so many people had what a friend of theirs calls the environmental disease is that it’s caused by chemicals in the food we eat. That made sense to me, and I thought maybe it should be the environmental-industrial disease since the things that cause cancer are not only in the food we eat, they’re in things we touch and things we wear and maybe the furniture we sit on and no telling what all.
This morning I had another scan of my face, and they built a mask that will go on my face when I start the actual radiation treatment in two weeks, on April 24. Now this is confusing. The nurse showed me a little rubber mask of my nose which was made the last time they scanned my face. Then they put a kind of mesh gauze helmet over my head. It was burning hot, but thankfully it cooled down quickly. She pushed and prodded and taped and made marks on it, and then they did another scan of my face, and then took it off and said we were done. I saw the new mask or whatever it was sitting on a tale. It looked like a medieval war helmet. They’re going to put it over my head and attach it to the exam table I’ll be laying on when they start the radiation, and that will hold my head in exactly the same position each time so they can zap the same places. There will be treatments five days a week for six weeks.
Hi Alec, I’m John Serembe’s brother-in-law. I too have had skin cancers. A couple removed from my nose, but nowhere near the depth of yours. I have numerous scars on my face, back and arms. I also had prostate cancer and had it removed when I was 58. I’m now 72 and have been cancer free (prostate). Skin cancers are ongoing but I have a terrific Dermatologist, Sasha Cavanaugh here in Olympia. I’m glad things are going well for you and wish you continued success with the procedure. Glad you have Gabi and supportive friends and family by your side. You got this Alec????
You really are a warrior now. Thank you for continuing to share your journey; it’s inspiring .
Alec, you are looking uncommonly good. I imagine it’s partly because so many people love you so much, but it’s supported in the mechanics of life by the handsomeness that came with the original package. Rooting for you, watching for your reports as always. Love.
So many men in our cohort, including me, have the same basic beard. You should get Gabi to do some mock ups of your face with different mustache-less beard designs. I think it could be very hip. But man, 5 days for 6 weeks. That’s brutal. I’ll be thinking of you. I, too, have many acquaintances who have been diagnosed. Just last week I learned that a dear old actor friend is about to start lung cancer radiation. I just want to scream. What will it take to stop the poisoning of our planet?