If you were a veteran, Buzz, I'd say "never forget" the turmoil you survived.
Come to think of it, I suspect you are surviving a dark chapter in your life and have learned a great deal about yourself and those who love you.
But, as a fellow who is blessed to have lived for 23 years with indolent non-Hodgkin lymphoma I figure you have earned the same "never forget" salutation I share with my fellow veterans.
Having read all of your 7 Weeks essays has turned me into a life long fan of an MD I'll probably never meet.
I'd propose forgetting as soon as possible. I don't mean to be contradictory Dennis and utterly respect your point of view - I'm simply suggesting that we don't have to remember terrible pain and suffering. It's our nature to forget and perhaps there are situations where that's the best approach with the caveat we remain humbled by our experience to have compassion for others experiencing similar or worse and that we remain conscious of our own irrational behavior post-trauma.
During my 23 year battle with my beast I have always used my memory of first being diagnosed with the "Big C" ... which is what cancer was called, if only because every type of cancer was rolled into a short but scary title.
By 2000, even lay people such as me have much more access to good science, good goals and good faith. I do not know Dr. Buzz, but I hope his Substack essays here will be read by nearly every person upon the discover of cancer within their body.
I admire Buzz for admitting the fear and pain he experienced. Most of us do go through that phase, but most of us are not as able as Buzz to accurately share it with us in such a public forum.
There is only one part of a cancer diagnosis that I do not remember being discussed by Buzz.
My biggest surprise was how much time and energy I spent supporting the people I loved.
My wife and I had for nearly a decade reserved Friday night for a 25 year habit of sitting with most of our friends a very large table at various restaurants in Bangor, Maine.
I will always remember what I saw on the faces of some of our best buddies, who exhibited a civilian form of the thousand yard stare.
We each have different weakness and strengths. During the months following my diagnosis I had the opportunity to talk to all of the people I loved. We spent quiet time, as if we were all Quakers some evenings, but some times found ourselves laughing at the frailty of humanity.
The highest compliment one veteran can give to another is the simple phrase "never forget" and I hope Buzz with take my comments as high praise for how he reacted to his inner enemy.
Once again Kanoa, thank you from an aged man far removed from the beauty of the Hawaiian islands.
You have a very good point! I also didn't expect the pain and suffering of my friends and family. Naturally we think of ourselves first but the experience is even more traumatic to our loved ones. They have to watch helplessly and contemplate life without us. We don't have to think about that; we're out of the picture if that happens but for them it's different and worse.
I still tend to forget about that so thank you for reminding me.
I enjoyed this exchange; it's funny, Kanoa, in that I understand why you would recommend forgetting suffering, but I am terrified that I will forget! Why? I can't stand the idea that all the difficulty wrought by this diagnosis won't bring me and those in my world lifelong benefits; most of all, to remember to appreciate in as many moments as possible that I am alive and not in terrible pain and there is no guarantee of either, and also to recall my mission in this life as often as I can because life, it seems, is too fragile to be drifting about purposelessly. In any case, I hope the three of us take our lessons forward and get the most out of what our lives hold!
23 years ago, Buzz, I came to much the same conclusion.
Being a computer programmer, of course I parsed my fear and resentment by asking myself if I wanted to spend the rest of my life being angry and afraid, or did I want to wake up every morning to enjoy a beautiful sunrise, and see a smile on my wife's face.
My Binary solution required a few weeks worth of examination, during which I did not know which of the non Hodgkin lymphomas might be the death of me.
I suspected there might be a flaw in the logic. However, I realized that being constantly angry for six weeks or six months or sixty years, would be a most destructive way to live.
My wife agreed, as did all my friends. We had a lovely celebration when the pathology report found an indolent form of b cell non Hodgkin lymphoma.
Grateful that you and your family are home again. Grateful that the worst is behind you. And grateful for all the excellent care you’ve given the two of us while we’re here in Hawaii.
Not too bad, finally finished getting treatment for the side effects and improving every day. I went back to work last week which helps immensely. Still no taste though, it’s kinda weird, my taste seems to be changing. I used to be able to taste chocolate, now everything just tastes salty. How about yourself? Is all well in paradise?
Hi Buzz. Welcome home to you and your family. Like others, I have read all of your posts. Your writing moves me with its honesty and authentic emotion. I am so glad that you can watch the Super Bowl that will start shortly. My wish is that you all will forget about the treatment for a while and truly enjoy yourselves. My kudos to Michelle for being such a caring and helpful wife. Yes she deserves a metal. By the way, you’re looking fantastic!
Welcome home Dr. Hollander to you and your family . I have read every blog and it's been quiet a journey for all of you. So happy to hear your doing better. Can't wait to catch up when your stronger. Always sending love and prayers for your family Thank you for giving us patients the best care you have all these yrs. You are the best. See you soon 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏
Welcome home Dr. Hollander to you and your family . I have read every blog and it's been quiet a journey for all of you. So happy to hear your doing better. Can't wait to catch up when your stronger. Always sending love and prayers for your family Thank you for giving us patients the best care you have all these yrs. You are the best. See you soon 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏
I wish I was there to come by with a dozen eggs or two and tell you in person how much I care for you and how grateful I am for all of the years of care you gave me. I am so grateful for you.💞
If you were a veteran, Buzz, I'd say "never forget" the turmoil you survived.
Come to think of it, I suspect you are surviving a dark chapter in your life and have learned a great deal about yourself and those who love you.
But, as a fellow who is blessed to have lived for 23 years with indolent non-Hodgkin lymphoma I figure you have earned the same "never forget" salutation I share with my fellow veterans.
Having read all of your 7 Weeks essays has turned me into a life long fan of an MD I'll probably never meet.
I'd propose forgetting as soon as possible. I don't mean to be contradictory Dennis and utterly respect your point of view - I'm simply suggesting that we don't have to remember terrible pain and suffering. It's our nature to forget and perhaps there are situations where that's the best approach with the caveat we remain humbled by our experience to have compassion for others experiencing similar or worse and that we remain conscious of our own irrational behavior post-trauma.
Thank you Kanoa for your comment and kind words.
During my 23 year battle with my beast I have always used my memory of first being diagnosed with the "Big C" ... which is what cancer was called, if only because every type of cancer was rolled into a short but scary title.
By 2000, even lay people such as me have much more access to good science, good goals and good faith. I do not know Dr. Buzz, but I hope his Substack essays here will be read by nearly every person upon the discover of cancer within their body.
I admire Buzz for admitting the fear and pain he experienced. Most of us do go through that phase, but most of us are not as able as Buzz to accurately share it with us in such a public forum.
There is only one part of a cancer diagnosis that I do not remember being discussed by Buzz.
My biggest surprise was how much time and energy I spent supporting the people I loved.
My wife and I had for nearly a decade reserved Friday night for a 25 year habit of sitting with most of our friends a very large table at various restaurants in Bangor, Maine.
I will always remember what I saw on the faces of some of our best buddies, who exhibited a civilian form of the thousand yard stare.
We each have different weakness and strengths. During the months following my diagnosis I had the opportunity to talk to all of the people I loved. We spent quiet time, as if we were all Quakers some evenings, but some times found ourselves laughing at the frailty of humanity.
The highest compliment one veteran can give to another is the simple phrase "never forget" and I hope Buzz with take my comments as high praise for how he reacted to his inner enemy.
Once again Kanoa, thank you from an aged man far removed from the beauty of the Hawaiian islands.
You have a very good point! I also didn't expect the pain and suffering of my friends and family. Naturally we think of ourselves first but the experience is even more traumatic to our loved ones. They have to watch helplessly and contemplate life without us. We don't have to think about that; we're out of the picture if that happens but for them it's different and worse.
I still tend to forget about that so thank you for reminding me.
It was the most unexpected part of a cancer diagnosis for me, Kanoa.
Thank you for your well composed amplification of my thoughts.
I enjoyed this exchange; it's funny, Kanoa, in that I understand why you would recommend forgetting suffering, but I am terrified that I will forget! Why? I can't stand the idea that all the difficulty wrought by this diagnosis won't bring me and those in my world lifelong benefits; most of all, to remember to appreciate in as many moments as possible that I am alive and not in terrible pain and there is no guarantee of either, and also to recall my mission in this life as often as I can because life, it seems, is too fragile to be drifting about purposelessly. In any case, I hope the three of us take our lessons forward and get the most out of what our lives hold!
23 years ago, Buzz, I came to much the same conclusion.
Being a computer programmer, of course I parsed my fear and resentment by asking myself if I wanted to spend the rest of my life being angry and afraid, or did I want to wake up every morning to enjoy a beautiful sunrise, and see a smile on my wife's face.
My Binary solution required a few weeks worth of examination, during which I did not know which of the non Hodgkin lymphomas might be the death of me.
I suspected there might be a flaw in the logic. However, I realized that being constantly angry for six weeks or six months or sixty years, would be a most destructive way to live.
My wife agreed, as did all my friends. We had a lovely celebration when the pathology report found an indolent form of b cell non Hodgkin lymphoma.
So glad you are home, all of you!
Welcome back, Buzz.
Welcome home Buzz and Family! Here’s to a little better each day! And soon being back in the saddle!! Janet Love and Jack Mustoe
Feeling oh-so-grateful.
Grateful that you and your family are home again. Grateful that the worst is behind you. And grateful for all the excellent care you’ve given the two of us while we’re here in Hawaii.
You are the best!
Diane and Roger
Thank you Buzz for sharing your experience with us. You’ve helped me immensely.
How are you doing, Montie, with a little time out from this "special experience?"
Not too bad, finally finished getting treatment for the side effects and improving every day. I went back to work last week which helps immensely. Still no taste though, it’s kinda weird, my taste seems to be changing. I used to be able to taste chocolate, now everything just tastes salty. How about yourself? Is all well in paradise?
Hi Buzz. Welcome home to you and your family. Like others, I have read all of your posts. Your writing moves me with its honesty and authentic emotion. I am so glad that you can watch the Super Bowl that will start shortly. My wish is that you all will forget about the treatment for a while and truly enjoy yourselves. My kudos to Michelle for being such a caring and helpful wife. Yes she deserves a metal. By the way, you’re looking fantastic!
Welcome home Buzz and enjoy the Super Bowl. Best wishes for a speedy recovery after a tough seven weeks of treatment.
With Much Aloha
Carol and Clive
True dat, Buzz 🤙 ~ and still time to catch some zzz's before the kick-off. ❤️👍🏼
Welcome home Dr. Hollander to you and your family . I have read every blog and it's been quiet a journey for all of you. So happy to hear your doing better. Can't wait to catch up when your stronger. Always sending love and prayers for your family Thank you for giving us patients the best care you have all these yrs. You are the best. See you soon 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏
Welcome home Dr. Hollander to you and your family . I have read every blog and it's been quiet a journey for all of you. So happy to hear your doing better. Can't wait to catch up when your stronger. Always sending love and prayers for your family Thank you for giving us patients the best care you have all these yrs. You are the best. See you soon 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏
Words escape me so I’ll just say ❤️😢🙏🏼
oh, and that I think you look great! 😊
Welcome home Buzz!
I wish I was there to come by with a dozen eggs or two and tell you in person how much I care for you and how grateful I am for all of the years of care you gave me. I am so grateful for you.💞
Welcome Home, Dr. B. See you in the 'hood.
Congratulations and welcome to the rest of your life!
Enjoy!