“Over 10 years ago I was told I only had a few years left to live. Now I’m running a marathon.”
In less than one week from today, I’ll be running a marathon. A challenge for most, but especially for me after being diagnosed with multiple myeloma over 10 years ago.
For the past six months, I’ve been training for the 50th anniversary of the Marine Corps Marathon with the Multiple Myeloma Research Foundation (MMRF) to raise money for myeloma awareness. Until I signed up for this marathon, I’d only ever told a handful of people about my cancer diagnosis, not wanting people to treat me any differently. But after keeping this secret, and living with myeloma for more than 10 years, I needed a new challenge.
Soon after, I shared my diagnosis on social media for the first time as I announced I would run the marathon. Friends, family, and coworkers were all shocked, but overwhelmingly supportive. I had seriously miscalculated the response the news would generate. Now, thanks to those posts and my generous friends, I am the lead fundraiser on my team and aware of many more people in my circle who have been touched by cancer.
I have a full life. I’m the General Counsel and Chief Operating Officer of a satellite company, married to a wonderful wife, and a father to two young children—a boy and a girl. But at 37, my life changed dramatically, and I did not believe this was possible.
The First Time I Heard: “You Have Cancer”
The initial warning sign came while I was playing basketball a few times a week with friends. It was hard to breathe, I began to tire quicky, and at times it felt like the world was closing in around me. At first, my doctor thought it was exercise-induced asthma, but further testing revealed something much more serious: multiple myeloma.
I was referred to a local oncologist who bluntly told me I had a rare, terminal, and incurable form of cancer and only had 3 to 5 years to live an effects-free life. His unsympathetic delivery of this devastating diagnosis made the entire experience overwhelming. I wish I’d known then that there were doctors with a better approach to care. I learned with the right doctor, discussing this illness doesn’t have to be quite so awful, although none of it will be easy.
After My Cancer Diagnosis
At first, I struggled to accept my diagnosis. I remember telling a friend that since I only had 3 years left, I should take all my money and travel the world. Live it up. Forget the rest of my life. But when talking with my cousin, a doctor herself, she let me know there were other treatment center options and better possible outcomes.
I eventually met a provider at Johns Hopkins who offered me a fresh perspective. He encouraged me to live fully, enjoy life, and even consider starting a family. The last part was a bit of a shock because I still believed that I was going to die — why would I marry someone, have kids, only to have them suffer the loss of their husband and father? I didn’t think it was an option for me. But that guidance changed everything. I entered a clinical trial, began treatment, got married, and had children right away. And I’m so lucky. No matter what happens now, at least I’ve had this time with my family.
Learning to Ask for Help
I didn’t want anyone to know about my cancer. Telling my parents I might only have 3 to 5 years left was one of the hardest moments of my life. Months later, my mother flew in from Florida and spent 2 months taking me back and forth to treatments during my transplant. It was difficult to accept this help as an adult. One of my sisters lived nearby, and there were several times during my recovery when she came to sit with me and support me through complications, even when I was being stubborn and refusing to ask for help. I thought to myself, Well, this is going to be my life; it’s just going to be treatments forever; a burden on my family.
Looking back now, I realize I should have asked for help sooner — even when it was difficult. I’m very independent and very self-reliant, so it’s hard for me. And this includes advocating for my own healthcare and treatment. I’m not a doctor. I don’t have a medical degree. I need people who will listen and have the specific skills and treatment experience to save my life. And I have to trust them and continue to trust them.
Expert Care Close to Home
There were days when getting to the doctor felt almost impossible. I live in Virginia, and a trip to Johns Hopkins could take anywhere from an hour and a half to 7 hours depending on traffic. It just wasn’t sustainable. Not if this was going to be part of my life forever.
Early on, my wife said, “But you have no choice, right? This is life or death.” She was right. I’m an admitted workaholic, and I knew I needed to prioritize my treatment over other obligations. That’s when I found Virginia Cancer Specialists. I discovered that the expert care I thought was only available at Dana-Farber, MD Anderson, or Johns Hopkins was actually right here in town. Capable and convenient.
When I met Dr. McCarthy, he immediately put me at ease. He understood all the treatment options and took the time to walk me through every detail. As a lawyer, I ask a lot of questions and want to know all the details. Dr. McCarthy respected that and patiently explained my treatment to me. His clear explanations helped us build a strong connection based on trust. He also helped adjust one of my protocols that had stopped working. Having his expertise nearby made all the difference. I could get in quickly whenever I needed to and no longer felt I needed to put off a visit until I had the time in my schedule.
Since then, I’ve continued with Dr. McCarthy and the Virginia Cancer Specialists team. I know the staff, and they know me—we’ve been through this together for years. A Trusted Lifelong Treatment Center
If I’m going somewhere for the rest of my life, I want it to be a place I trust. I like that Virginia Cancer Specialists is a multi-doctor, multidisciplinary practice. With physicians from different specialties under one roof, the practice felt legitimate and there’s comfort in that kind of stability.
And it’s not just Dr. McCarthy. Virginia Cancer Specialists is a truly relationship-driven office. Everyone from the front desk reception to the techs to the nurses to the doctors – each take the time to connect with you. I never felt rushed. They genuinely care.
For example, my nurse practitioner, Sharon, noticed a trend in my charts showing elevated blood pressure over the past 20 years. She urged me to see my primary doctor, and sure enough, I was diagnosed with hypertension and started on medication that immediately helped. I probably should have addressed it a decade earlier, but it took Sharon going above and beyond to spot it.
Dr. McCarthy also coordinates with my other physicians, including those at Johns Hopkins. It’s incredible to have that level of collaboration and expertise close to home. Finding Virginia Cancer Specialists has truly been a game changer in helping me live my life to the fullest.
A Changed Perspective
Dealing with cancer has definitely changed my perspective. First of all, nothing bothers me anymore. When I get bad news or face tough challenges, I’m able to shrug them off and keep going. I think about the saying, “When you have your health, you have everything.” I’m not sure most people truly believe that until they’re sick or experienced a time when their health was taken from them. That’s when it really hits home.
Now, there will still be bad days, especially early on during chemo and treatment. But it does get better. I’ve been lucky that I tolerate my maintenance medicine really well. I was prepared to give up on sports, but instead I’m running a marathon.
I also now truly appreciate the support of friends, family, coworkers, and medical providers. There are some things you cannot manage on your own and I would not be as healthy physically or mentally without the time, energy, and encouragement of other people.
I’ve never been an overly optimistic person; I’m a natural pessimist. I’ve always figured if you don’t aim too high, there won’t be as much disappointment. But facing something like this forces you to stay positive. It’s too easy to let negativity take over.
Getting to the Finish Line
This whole story started with the marathon. The last time I ran one was 31 years ago when I was dared to in law school. With no preparation, I drove down to Richmond, bought a pair of sneakers, and ran a marathon. Back then, it was about sheer willpower. I’ve taken that same approach with cancer treatment, deciding to do whatever it takes to get healthy.
I have big goals, but nothing like trying to climb a mountain or learn another language. My goal is to spend as much time as possible with my family. I want to see my kids graduate from high school, maybe even college… get married themselves. Who knows what else. I really want to just live life like everyone else and not worry that I may have less time than I once thought I would.
Over 10 years ago I was told I was dying. Now I’m running a marathon. To me, that says you can do anything. I’ve always admired people who defy expectations, and I’ve learned that with enough determination and hard work, there’s almost always a way forward. You might have to make changes or sacrifices, but you can still do the things that matter most. For me, that means getting to the finish line — and helping others get there, too.
I believe I’ve gone through all of this for a reason. Ultimately, this journey requires a lot of hope to keep going. And even with my diagnosis, I knew my chances weren’t great … one in a hundred, maybe. But that still means one person makes it. And I believed I could be that one. And I think that kind of hope makes all the difference.
Post-script:
Since sharing my story earlier this year, I’m happy to report I finished the marathon. MISSION ACCOMPLISHED! I wasn’t fast, just happy that I finished, thanks to the incredible support of friends and family who continue to stand by me through challenges and accomplishments. My best advice is never stop setting reasonable goals for yourself, cancer or no cancer. For me, I didn’t need to be the fastest guy in the race, just the fastest I could be.
