John Kerry Speaks Candidly
about His Cancer Experience
Senator John Kerry was diagnosed with prostate cancer while on the presidential campaign trail in 2002. In an interview with Coping® magazine, he speaks candidly about beating cancer, losing an election and advocating for the American people.
Coping® magazine: What is the status of your cancer?
John Kerry: In December of 2002, I got tested, I got
diagnosed, I had surgery, and thank God I was cured. I’m
one of the lucky ones. I try to remain health conscious.
I lost my dad to prostate cancer at age 85. His was caught
too late. He didn’t have the options I had. I get tested
every six months so doctors can keep an eye on my blood
for any traces of the cancer. I also push myself to exercise
consistently, and [my wife] Teresa stays on my case
and challenges my worst instincts – she makes me eat a
healthy, balanced diet! But, you know, it matters. My
doctors say one of the reasons I recovered so quickly
and could put it all behind me was that I was pretty fit
in the first place.
"Overnight, I had to put the brakes on and put my health first, halting my travel and speaking schedule."
CM: What treatments did you have?
JK: Surgery. Teresa and I researched all the options.
After learning that radiation wasn’t a fail-safe option,
I decided to go the surgical route. My dad had radiation,
and I saw what it did to him and how tiring it was. There
was no way I wanted to go through that. It works for
some people, and different people make different decisions.
But for me, at the age I was at the time, 59, and
for my level of detection, I felt I chose the best option.
CM: Did the side effects from treatment interfere with
your job in any way?
JK: I was diagnosed and treated as I was crisscrossing the
country running for President. So overnight, I had to put
the brakes on and put my health first, halting my travel
and speaking schedule. I was dead tired for weeks. But I
got better, got back on the trail and picked up where I left
off. I’m very proud of that. I figured I could either let
this thing stop things I’d dreamed of or I could prove it
wrong, and I tried my best to prove cancer wrong.
CM: Did your diagnosis change your relationships?
JK: I had very close relationships with my family and
friends before I was diagnosed and treated for cancer,
but I think the experience has certainly made me appreciate
them more, and hopefully vice versa. My family and
friends were 100 percent supportive throughout the whole
process, and I will be forever grateful to them. In many
ways it made me even closer to my daughters and to my
wife, Teresa, than I was before the diagnosis. They were
with me on that journey every step of the way, and it
tested what we are made of as a family. This was a battle
we all faced together.
CM: What do you think needs to be done to improve
the way prostate cancer is treated?
JK: We need to make sure that all Americans know they
need to be tested regularly, but there are certain groups
who are more vulnerable than others when it comes to
cancer. We need to use our voices to end the doctrine of
“separate but equal” in healthcare and in cancer treatment.
I recently introduced a bill to fight the prostate cancer
crisis in the African-American community, encouraging
African-American men in particular to get screened and
urging Congress to provide the funds necessary.
CM: Has cancer changed your perspective on your
career? On your life in general?
JK: It’s definitely changed my perspective. A lot of
us who were lucky enough to come home from Vietnam
in one piece did so with a saying: “Every day is extra.”
Thirty-five years ago, I used those extra days to stop that
war. I realized I had a responsibility to stop others from
getting killed. I have extra days after cancer as well, and
I use my anger about the disease to do what I do: be an
advocate, keep fighting.
CM: What has been the one most difficult challenge
you have faced since having cancer? How did you
overcome it?
JK: You know, there are a lot of challenges at my age.
You lose friends and family to illness and death. And,
in my case, I lost a pretty close election. The learning
gained from getting knocked on my ass in defeat is not
my favorite way to gain insight and knowledge, but it
is an event in life that sticks with you, I’ll tell you that
much. I was forced to confront my shortcomings, figure
out what I did wrong, listen, and in defeat I also was reminded
what really mattered to me. As lousy as it felt
to lose, life was a hell of a lot harder after November 2,
2004, for the working father who woke up still without
healthcare for his kids, for families in New Orleans abandoned
on rooftops while the water rose, or for troops in
Iraq who got up every day in the middle of a civil war.
I felt a really personal obligation not to lay around
licking my wounds but to dust myself off and fight
for those people.
CM: What are your plans for the future, professionally
and personally?
JK: To keep fighting every day for the issues I’ve cared
about all my life – getting the policy right in Iraq, getting
people health insurance they can count on, cleaning up the
environment and living up to our responsibility on global
climate change. Cancer is one of those big issues I care
about. It’s personal. My friend Tom Farrington and I were
diagnosed with prostate cancer, and we got cured. Our
fathers weren’t so lucky. Prostate cancer took them away
from us. But once I got well, and once Tom got well, we
started learning more and more. And a statistic that stays
with me, and with Tom, who is African American, speaks
volumes. African-American men are 80 percent more
likely to die of prostate cancer than white men. I started
digging more and discovered the unacceptable apartheid
of healthcare in America. That’s a big issue to me as a
cancer survivor and a policymaker. These are also issues
to me as a father. My daughter Vanessa is in her final
year of medical school. I’m struck by just how much her
life and her compassion for her patients will inevitably
be caught up in the kind of healthcare system we choose
for our country, or, if we let the status quo continue, the
kind of system we’re stuck with. That’s why I won’t
quit on these fights.
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
This article was originally published in Coping® with Cancer magazine, January/February 2007.
