My Second Chance After Esophageal Cancer
Steve O'Grady; Photo by Thang Ho Photography
Every Day is Like Christmas, No Matter the Season
by Steve O’Grady
I’ve never been the kind of person to take life for granted. I grew up on a farm and spent six years in the U.S. Navy, living a life where you showed up every day and did your part. Somewhere along the way, I started saying every day felt like Christmas. When you’ve seen the kind of uncertainty that comes with the Vietnam War (I served stateside), you learn really quick not to assume you’re getting a tomorrow. Back then, it was just something I believed, but it wasn’t until I faced esophageal cancer that I truly understood what those words meant.
My story started when I was a kid. I’d have trouble any time I drank something acidic – orange juice, even certain foods – and over time, I’d take baking soda and water just to get through meals. When I was in the Navy, I drank a lot of coffee to keep up in the Jet Training Squadron. That turned what I’d dealt with as a kid into constant heartburn. Like most, I learned to push through it. I was a plane captain/ground crew and we had a job to do—training pilots. I wasn’t about to let something like that slow me down. After I was honorably discharged from the military, it caught up with me. I was going through antacids like they were candy, dealing with reflux that just kept getting worse.
Time progressed into years of more suffering. I would wake up in the middle of the night choking from reflux and eventually, I could barely swallow. After seeing several doctors, a gastroenterologist recommended an endoscopy. This showed a large mass at the base of my esophagus. A few weeks later, after more testing, I heard the words I wasn’t ready for. At 58 years old, I was diagnosed with stage III esophageal cancer.
I was the first in my family to face cancer and had already lost two close friends to esophageal cancer. I felt I didn’t have a choice and began the process of treatment. I had 28 radiation treatments and a round of chemotherapy, but the cancer continued to progress. I was told I had a very aggressive and fast developing cancer. I was blessed to have begun treatment early.
The next step was surgery, but every time it was scheduled, it was delayed. After rescheduling several times, I started to feel like I was running out of time. That’s when I started looking for a second opinion. In November 2012, on my 59th birthday, I reached out to City of Hope in Zion by recommendation of a friend. From the first conversation, something felt different. My care team had a plan, and just as important, they had confidence. They moved quickly. For the first time since my diagnosis, I didn’t just feel fear…I felt hope.
Within two weeks, I had surgery to remove my esophagus and most of my stomach. Recovery wasn’t easy—I was in the hospital for 28 days and had to learn how to swallow and eat all over again. My recovery team was incredible and the staff from nursing through imaging and beyond were incredible. Then came three more months of chemotherapy. It was the toughest fight of my life, but I didn’t quit. I’m still friends with nurses and other hospital employees from this journey. Some may comment on how tough the journey is, but I feel, beyond doubt, it was worth it.
In April 2013, I went in for my follow-up scans. I’ll never forget that moment because I received the best news: my oncologist told me I was “unremarkable.” There were no visible signs of cancer.
Thirteen years later, I’m still here; still blessed to be cancer free. I don’t take a single day for granted. I truly believe I was given a second chance — through faith, through the care I received at City of Hope, and through the people who stood by me.
Over the past decade, I have been blessed to experience so many things, from sharing my 50th wedding anniversary with my wife, to witnessing the birth of grandchildren and great-grandchildren, to being able to showcase my talents as a blacksmith at a steam train show and the county fair. Those everyday moments mean everything to me now and truly feel like a gift. But keeping my gift means sharing it with others.
Today, I spend time giving back, talking to others who have just been diagnosed, sitting with them in some of the hardest moments of their lives, letting them know they’re not alone. Through a program with City of Hope, I speak with new patients that are diagnosed with my cancer. I have, over time, spoken with over 100 cancer survivors.
One of my favorite ways to give back is at Christmas. Every year, I go back to City of Hope with my friend. I’m dressed in holiday gear, and he as Santa. We walk the halls handing out candy canes and doing our best to bring a little light and hope to people who need it. Because to me, Christmas has always been about hope and joy; about being grateful for what you have. After cancer, that feeling got stronger.
What volunteering has taught me is that while my story is unique, I’m not the only one who has faced this battle. More and more people are surviving cancer. Because of breakthroughs in research, efforts to catch cancer earlier and advancements in treatment, for the first time, 70% of Americans diagnosed with cancer are surviving at least 5 years. I am honored to be one of 18.6 million cancer survivors in the U.S., and like so many others who have heard the words “you have cancer,” I see survivorship for what it is: a gift.
Waking up every day without cancer…that’s a gift I don’t take lightly. That’s what “every morning is Christmas morning” really means to me now. It’s another chance, another blessing, another day I get that I wasn’t promised. I thank God for that every single day, and for the people at City of Hope who gave me hope and a second chance at life.
Steve O’Grady is a U.S. Navy Veteran and 13-year esophageal cancer survivor.
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