Surviving the Cure ebook Now Available!

I am proud to announce that Surviving the Cure: Cancer was Easy,* Living is Hard is now available to purchase on Amazon as an ebook! It's been a long four years to get my memoir published, but it's finally out there, folks. Click here to buy the book!

This is a major step in my efforts to raise awareness for the difficulties that face cancer survivors after  they enter remission. While most people think once you "beat" cancer, that's the end of the story, the truth is: cancer is only the beginning, and life after cancer ain't no walk in the park. If you want to learn more about the many potential challenges that crop up for survivors, read my book and learn the truth about the least discussed, and one of the most important, aspects of cancer.

If you want to help my advocacy for cancer survivors, please check out my crowdfunding campaign and watch the video. The donations not only go toward the book, but also to help increase my efforts to increase awareness for survivorship and let others survivors know they are not the only ones battling the issues they face. You can also receive perks for donating, including signed copies of the book or inclusion on a special thank you page in the next edition.

Here is what doctors and survivors are saying about 

Surviving the Cure: Cancer was Easy,* Living is Hard

"Andrew Bundy's captivating memoir has an unexpected focus seldom explored in the story of cancer: survivorship. [He] invites us into the intimate, deeply private struggle of coming to terms with life after cancer. With humor and candor, Andrew sends a powerful message about the significant medical and emotional issues that shape life after treatment and illuminates the critical need for programs that support young cancer survivors."

Anna Pawlowska, MD

Director, Pediatric Hematopoietic Stem Cell Transplant Program
City of Hope Medical Center 

"Holy $%*!, your story is almost EXACTLY my own. And your thoughts and feelings. Gave me chills…It is incredible to know there is someone out there that COMPLETELY understands."

Rebecca 
Acute Myeloid Leukemia Survivor—17 years in remission

***

For all those who buy the book

The print copy of the book will soon be available. It is still in review, but should be ready within the next 24 hours if everything goes well.

And I would encourage anyone who purchases the book to please leave a review on Amazon. It goes a long way to helping boost visibility of my message about the challenges of survivorship.

Thank you, and I hope you enjoy!

PS: For those unfamiliar with my story or the memoir, please direct your attention to the top of the page to read the About Me page and the Memoir page.

Surviving the Cure Excerpt: Humor Me

Hey everyone! I'm going to be putting out excerpts for my memoir, Surviving the Cure: Cancer was Easy,* Living is Hard, for the next few days.
(*relatively speaking)

Today scene comes from early May 2008, when my oxygen levels were so low it was causing neurological issues, and unbeknownst to me, my doctors had given me two weeks to live. But I had enough lucidity to know I needed to find a way to stay sane and keep me spirits up. Turns out, that way was humor.

Humor Me

I pranked people during my many stays in and out of the hospitals. But by far one of my favorites was the “fake injury” gag.

One of my favorite snacks in the hospital was Jell-O. It was an all-purpose food that required absolutely no energy to eat, which was good, because I wasn’t well enough to even lift the spoon up to my mouth sometimes. Most days Mom would have to feed me. My favorite was cherry. The red mush sometimes reminded me of gore, something I was now far too familiar with, but it gave me an idea.

“Can ya call the nurse in?”

“How come?” Mom asked. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Jus’ call’er in.”

“And tell her what?”

“Jus’ that I need help with sumpin’. Cummon, it’ll be funny,” I giggled.

Suspicious, but with a smile at my rare laughter, she called the nurses’ station and managed to convince them to send over a nurse. “So what is it that will be so funny?” she asked.

I told her my plan. We’d make it look like I had sneezed while my mom was bringing the spoon up to my mouth and stabbed me in the eye. I would have my hand over my eye with bits of cherry Jell-O leaking out from between my fingers. I summoned up what remained of my acting prowess to sell the fake injury. Mom managed to stop laughing right before the nurse arrived.

When the nurse came in, I was groaning and holding my eye. The nurse’s face immediately drained of color and she shakily asked what was going on. “She got muh eye while she’s feedin’ me,” I moaned.

The nurse spun on her heels and muttered something about getting the doctor. She was almost out of the room by the time my frantic calls stopped her. “No, i’s okay! I’s jus’ Jell-O!”

Looking less than amused, the nurse came back. I pulled my hand away to reveal a perfectly intact eye, surrounded by a red stain, and an impish grin. “That wasn’t funny,” she puffed, but smiled with relief. Then she chuckled softly and shook her head. “You’re an odd one.”

Yes I was, and proud of it.

Sometimes the humor came from outside, such as a card I received from a class of kids taught by one of our neighbors. “I hope you get out of the hospital and Hell soon.” I laughed hard enough for it to hurt, but it was worth it. The amusement came with joy and made everything seem all right. Get out of Hell indeed. I now had a “Get Out of Hell Free” card. I know she meant “heal,” but beneath the laughter, I couldn’t shake the feeling that her card might be more accurate than she intended.

That's all for now. Stay tuned for more excerpts and updates on my memoir!

I'd appreciate it if you shared this with your friends. I'm publishing my book to share the rarely told story about what life after cancer is really like. With more awareness, more eyes (or eye, depending on if someone stabbed you with a spoon of Jell-O), on this issue, we can educate people about the difficulties facing survivors in a life after cancer, and be able to give them the support and quality of care they need to live rich, fulfilling lives.

Thank you for reading, and especially for sharing,
~Andrew Bundy

The Big Reveal: Excerpt, Donations, and Watch Me Get Slapped

So, as most of you know, I'm getting ready to publish my memoir, Surviving the Cure: Cancer was Easy,* Living is Hard (*relatively speaking). And now, I've set a release date: February 28, 2017. That's right, in one week, this, all of this, will be DONE and ready for YOUR consumption! My relief is indescribable. Four years of sweat, tears, and blood (mostly from paper cuts) have gone into writing this thing, plus nearly a full decade of cancer-ness, side effect-ness, and existence-ness that is the foundation of the book, and now it's about to be thrust into the world to make a difference.

If you want to learn more about my memoir and see advanced praise from doctors and survivors alike, click here for more information.

But that's not all I've been working on. I've also just opened an IndieGoGo Crowdfunding Campaign to help raise money to spread the message about the truth of life after cancer and to help with my future survivorship advocacy efforts. All donations are welcome, and there are some awesome perks for donating! Including Social Media Shout Outs and Signed Copies of Surviving the Cure! And they're even signed by ME! Le gasp!

Please share our Crowdfunding Campaign, and also our YouTube video! Want to see me get slapped? Then you'll love this video!

And because you guys are so awesome, I'm also including a sneak peek at my memoir!

Until we meet again. Well, not meet. Until you visit again? Something like that.
Ciao

Bump

In a way, it was a soothing motion—the gentle rocking back and forth as the uneven wheels rolled across the linoleum floor, surrounded by neutral white walls. 

“Watch out for the bump,” the orderly said. 

In another time, another place, to another person, it would have been hilarious. 

“Watch out!” As if I had some control over whether we would be going over the bump or not. As if anything I did could affect the oncoming obstacle. Some part of me must have laughed, but it didn’t bother sharing the joke with the rest of my numbed body. 

In terms of humor, it’s hard to beat a hefty dose of irony doing its best impersonation of a cream pie. Wham! Unavoidable, literally in your face—shocking, instantaneous. Today, that cream pie was this orderly, wheeling me to a fate I could never have even begun to imagine, warning me about this little bump when not thirty minutes earlier I’d had the mother of all bombshells dropped on my head. When my life and future vaporized so quickly and completely that all that remained were faint shadows where once they stood.

In the rare moments of lucidity during the slow walk—I guess more of a roll—I marveled at how quickly a life could come apart. How fragile and on the verge of collapse we are that the tiniest thing can be enough to topple our body. It’s like you’re a house of cards that believes it’s constructed from steel and concrete and mortar so tough that nothing short of the destruction of the Earth would topple it. That’s why it’s so shocking when you learn the truth—that under the thin veneer of confidence and surety is a wobbly framework ready to implode at the drop of a hat. 

A week. That’s all it took for my house of cards to come crashing down. From young adult on the cusp of spreading his wings and embarking on his first flight of independence to a mess of malfunctioning cells. From a bright life ahead to an imminent dark death. And all it had taken was one word. 

Leukemia.

“Watch out for the bump.” I had as much control over that bump as I did the next few months. Maybe more. I could have gotten out of the chair and stepped over this obstacle. I didn’t, but at least it was an option. My future offered no real options. Chemical warfare or certain death, take your pick. “A wise choice, sir. We have an excellent selection of noxious chemicals for you today, only the very best vintage for you, young sir!” 

For both the bump and my new life, all I could do was hold on tight and pray for the best…and hope that would be enough.

Bump-bump went the wheels. 

Bump-bump went my heart. 

Bump-bump went my life.

No Surgeries? We Can Fix That

First, I want to thank those who participated in the poll to pick my cover. I have selected and finalized the design. So, without further ado...

I am very pleased with how it turned out. I feel it does an excellent job embodying my story and the truth of what life after cancer is really like.

My next post will talk more about the book, including its release date and an excerpt. Information regarding my book can be found here, or at the top of the page in the Memoir: Surviving the Cure section. 

Now, I want to share what has been going on the past few weeks with me.

A few weeks ago, I realized something astonishing. I didn't have a single surgery all of last year! That's right, 2016 is the first year I've gone without surgery since...well, I was diagnosed actually. That didn't sit well with me, so I'm having two surgeries—and possibly up to four—to make up for it. For sure, I know I have to replace my right knee (I did a partial replacement in 2012, but the damage in the original part of the bone causes a lot of pain). Also, I have a screw loose—but let's get back to surgery. I'll be having an arthroscopy on my right ankle to clear out arthritis and remove the screws from my 2010 ankle allograft (replacement). I also have to get my left knee replaced (same situation as right knee), and might have the rest of the screws removed from my left ankle (I had one removed in November 2015), but whether those take place this year or the next is still up in the air. But having both knees replaced will bring me up to 11 joints replaced—one off tying the world record! 

No, not THAT World Record!

Yesterday, I had my hips checked out. They've been hurting for the last few months. However, the doctor said they looked fine. I was glad to hear that, but then a little part of me whispered, "Yeah, but now you have to wait to replace them and get the record!" So...bummer? Somewhat conflicted, but definitely leaning toward being happy not to have to hack off my body parts.

On a different track, I've been engaging more in the cancer community, in particular the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society's online forum. Mostly, I give advice to people and discuss what life after cancer is really like, not what most people think. It's messy, there's usually numerous complications and problems (see world record attempt), and the amount of support is drastically reduced compared to when someone is actually going through cancer treatments. But that's why I'm writing my story, to educate the public on the reality of survivors. My goal is to help advocate for survivors to help get them the best quality of life possible. Fingers crossed. 

Until next time,

~Andrew