For David Swan, the reports are especially personal. He recently celebrated a remarkable milestone: the 5^th anniversary of his diagnosis. “When I was diagnosed, there was a 5% chance I’d survive five years.” Today, he’s connecting with others facing GBM as a CHN Support Volunteer. “Even though it’s hard to hear of some of the challenges I hear from multiple GBM patients, it not only makes me feel worthwhile, but fills my soul with joy.”

When the doctor says brain cancer

His diagnosis was as dramatic as the disease he faced – on the phone with a friend, he had a seizure and  smashed his head on his desk. It was lights out – David woke up later that afternoon in his shower, surrounded by EMS and police officers. “One side of my body just stopped working and I couldn’t see out of my left eye. The next thing I knew, I was waking up in my hospital, with my daughter holding my hand. She had been in England when I lost consciousness.”

Barely awake, his medical team urged immediate brain surgery. With the support of his friends and family, David consented. What they’d hoped was a benign growth was confirmed as GBM.

“There’s no sugar coating with this disease,” he recalls. “Everyone agreed surgery was what I should do. The next thing I remember, I was waking up with a bald spot and asking if I could die in my own bed.”

Gathering information and making a post-diagnosis plan

Fortunately for him – and the patients he supports today – that wasn’t in his near future. Doctors were soon discussing next steps as they created a treatment plan. Long a believer in the wisdom of the crowd and committed to the idea that more data is better, David gathered 18 of his closest friends and family together to discuss options. “My thinking power when they pulled a chunk out of my head was limited. They (his friends and family) all had laptops and poster boards and over a six-to-eight-hour period, we listed and planned and discussed my path forward.”

Asking for help

“The more people you talk to, the more things you experience, the more obvious the right answer becomes,” he says. “For me, the path forward was a combination of holistic and the gold standard treatment.”

A member of David’s “friends and family team” shared research showing benefits of beets on cognition and brain healing. Soon, this life-long hater of beets began juicing 10-plus pounds of beets each day. In tandem with the chemotherapy he was receiving, his mantra was simple: “Eat beets. Eat better. Get active.”

The lifelong learner and self-proclaimed “expert in things I’ve never done before,” David found wisdom and lessons in life with glioblastoma. He is happy to share his hard-won knowledge with GBM patients.

Finding hope – and helping others – after brain cancer

“This is the next chapter of your life. You have to embrace it.” For David, embracing that new chapter meant planning for the worst  (setting his financial affairs in order, transferring ownership of his business to a trust and planning a party in lieu of a funeral) while hoping for the best (juicing beet after beet, enrolling in a clinical trial, juicing more beets.). It also meant discovering what is truly important.

“Before brain cancer, I was going through life making a living. My whole mantra was to create something that hadn’t been created before. Kids, family and friends were secondary to business. I know now that they are so much more important.”

David is planning to walk his daughter down the aisle later this year, a dream neither of them dared dream after his diagnosis. His life is focused on hope – encouraging others facing GBM to focus on the strides being made with research and treatment. And he is grateful.

“I wake up every single day and thank the Big Guy Above for giving me another day that I can walk around and stay above the ground. I am very fortunate. You really have to enjoy and appreciate every day.”

The post Hopelight Spotlight: Glioblastoma Survivor David appeared first on Cancer Hope Network.

Yes, three short letters – GBM. While I am incredibly blessed to no longer have any sign of GBM and have not since 2001, GBM has been and always will be part of my narrative.

When Cancer Hope Network started seeking out people to share their stories I felt compelled to respond. Working with Sarah she and I thought providing content for a blog was a good way to start.

Now comes the challenge. Why would anyone care to read what I write?

Telling my story is a start but there needs to be something more, a lot more to make it worth my while to write but more to the point worth your time to read. If you have cancer or care for someone who does, you spend your time wisely so you do not waste time on things you get little benefit from.

So, why might this be worth your time?

In my professional career, my focus was always on customer service. And working for a state government and a university I found it was not as elusive a concept as one might think.
Actually it is easier than it seems. It starts with respect and it includes a lot of listening and paying attention. Boiled down it is this – it is not about you. At the end of the day you may feel good about yourself and what you did but that is only a byproduct. Did you make a difference for someone else? Did you provide what others needed? Did you put yourself into it? If no, what a waste, and worse, what a missed opportunity.

In my blog I want to tell some of my stories but only as they make a broader point that anyone can relate to, not just if they have GBM but anyone who shares a similar perspective.
With cancer, how and what different cancers may affect and how they are diagnosed and treated vary by type of cancer. What all cancer patients share is the human experience with all our thoughts, feelings and emotions.

Nothing prepares you for this, not even if a close relative or your best friend had the same cancer.
It reminds me of when I found out I would be a grandfather and people wanted to tell me what it was like. I told them I get that it is great but no one can convey the emotion of being a grandparent. You only understand it by actually experiencing the emotion of being a grandparent. And cancer is much the same. All the stuff you read or hear about having cancer pales in comparison to the emotion. It is your new normal.

So this is my start. I will have served my “customers” if something I write makes you feel better or gives you new information or new insight into your situation.

That would be my reward even if I never meet you or talk to you.

The post The human side of cancer appeared first on Cancer Hope Network.