A Season to be Grateful as a Cancer Survivor

As I approach my 76th birthday this November, I find myself reflecting on the many changes I’ve experienced over the years. My dad and I both share November birthdays, which makes this time of year especially significant to me. As I wake up each morning between 3 and 4 a.m. and go to bed early, around 7 p.m., I’ve come to appreciate the quiet moments before the world wakes up. It gives me time to reflect, think about my family, write and feel gratitude for all the blessings I’ve experienced, even as I face the inevitable challenges that come with aging.

Since turning 70, my body has become more fragile, and I’m learning to live with the aches and pains that are a natural part of growing older. I developed dry eye syndrome, which I manage with prescription Xiidra eye drops. I also have chronic lymphocytic leukemia, an uncommon type of leukemia that tends to affect older adults. Thankfully, it is well controlled with a medication called Brukinsa, which has mild side effects, though I haven’t experienced any. I’m also managing adult ADHD, which was recently diagnosed after years of struggling with anxiety, impatience and restlessness. My psychologist has helped me better understand how ADHD affects my daily life, and the medication I take occasionally has made a noticeable difference.

In my later years, I was an avid marathon runner. I ran for nearly a decade, from my late 50s to my late 60s. Running was more than just a form of exercise as it provided structure, goals and a sense of accomplishment. As I transitioned into my 70s, with the support of my therapist and wife, I moved from running to walking, hiking and weight training. I still run a little from time to time, but not regularly. I’ve come to appreciate the joy of moving my body in different ways, and I’m grateful for the flexibility I’ve found in adjusting my routine.

The other night, we had a wild thunderstorm with hail pounding against the house. It was so intense that you couldn’t sleep through it. At the same time, we welcomed the rain, as New Mexico, like much of the Southwest, is in the grip of a severe drought. As if to match the storm, I’ve been dealing with some soreness in my right rib cage, possibly from a light resistance exercise at the gym a week ago. I broke three ribs in a fall while running last October. I am trying to avoid any injuries this year. But I get sore muscles even with mild exercise.

Last December, my father passed away at the age of 100. It was a bittersweet moment for our family, as we had celebrated his 100th birthday just a month earlier. My wife and I had traveled to Lubbock to be with him, and our daughter and her family flew in from California. Dad lived only a few weeks after that celebration, passing away peacefully in his sleep. The memorial was attended by my son, my sister and many others from his extended family from his second marriage. It was a quiet moment in the family’s life. My dad had struggled with PTSD from his time as a torpedo bomber in World War II, and the effects of that trauma were felt throughout his life, especially during the holidays. His drinking, which often worsened during this time of year, made the holiday season difficult for us growing up. As the oldest child, I became the anchor, always trying to keep things calm. It wasn’t easy and I must have made my younger siblings anxious as well.

Despite these challenges, I’ve come to a place of understanding and peace. My dad’s final wish was to have his ashes thrown in the trash, though they remain in my sister’s closet, a reminder of the complexity of family relationships. My other sister stopped speaking to him after a political disagreement, a division that added another layer of sadness to an already strained relationship.

But the holidays have changed for me. While they still carry some weight from the past, I’ve learned to embrace them in new ways. My wife, who was raised Jewish, loves this time of year. She begins decorating for Christmas on Thanksgiving, and our daughter and son also enjoy the season. This year, my wife will visit our son and his family in Houston, and our daughter and her family will join us in Santa Fe after Christmas. Though I’m not traveling as much as I used to, I’m thankful for the opportunities to see family and for the way our children share photos and videos of our three grandchildren. My wife visits them every couple of months, and it’s always a joy to hear about her trips.

Our family is doing well, and I am incredibly thankful for their love and support. My mother, who is 97, will turn 98 on Jan. 1, 2026. She has mild dementia but is well cared for in a wonderful senior living facility. Her health is a constant reminder of the gift of time. As for me, while cancer is a part of my life, it no longer defines it. I am thankful that it’s under control, and I focus on my family, my health and the lessons I’ve learned from both.

Getting older isn’t always easy. It comes with its own set of challenges — memory issues, lack of motivation at times, anxiety and impatience. But the holidays have become a time of year when I’m learning to embrace gratitude, even with the underlying anxiety I sometimes feel. The season will soon bring us together with family and friends, and while I have moments of stress and reflection, I am learning to enjoy the time spent with those I love. The holiday season doesn’t need to be perfect, it’s the connections, the moments of joy and the small victories that I choose to focus on. I’ll have to practice some Christmas songs on my guitar that I can share with the grandkids.

As I approach my 76th birthday and reflect on the year that’s passed, I am filled with thankfulness for my family, my health and the life I’ve lived. It hasn’t always been easy, but it’s been a life worth living. And for that, I am truly grateful.

This piece reflects the author’s personal experience and perspective as a cancer survivor. For medical advice, please consult your health care provider.

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