Most things in life can be compared to either a “Seinfeld” episode or the immortal “Wizard of Oz.” The comparisons between Oz and cancer treatment can go on and on, but I’m going to break it down to my most relevant “Wizard of Oz” thoughts (not necessarily in any particular order).

Cancerous Tumor = Wicked Witch

“ARRRRRGH! — You cursed brat!” the Wicked Witch screamed at Dorothy. “Look what you’ve done! I’m melting! Melting! Oh — what a world, what a world! Who would have thought a good little girl like you could destroy my beautiful wickedness?! ARRRRRGH! I’m gone! I’m gone! I’m going!”

No further explanation needed, right? Chemo did shrink my tumor.

Chemo Day = Winged Monkeys

My third round of chemotherapy hit me hard, as chemo’s effects are cumulative and build up after each round. I thought it would get easier when I knew what to expect. It did not.

The thought of walking into an infusion room today, with its smell of rubbing alcohol, the bowl of hard candy to mask the taste of the infused drugs, and the comfortable-for-30-minutes-but-not-all-frigging-day-La-Z-Boy recliners, brings on nausea and makes my head spin all over again.

The waiting periods in between chemo were a hovering torture. The I-know-this-is-curing-me-but-it-still-bloody-well-sucks ritual lurked every three weeks. Then it swooped down and carried me into its dungeon where the hourglass sand passed and my psyche beat on the door, begging for normalcy.

‘I’d Unravel Any Riddle, for Any Individual, in Trouble or in Pain’

Surgical treatment proved to be a big riddle despite the many brains working on it. My tumors were in the lower left lung, and I had a positive lymph node. Since the cancer in the lymph node was separate from the tumor, there was no guarantee that surgically removing my lower lobe would eradicate the disease entirely. I had stage 3 lung cancer despite my young age of 45 and healthy lifestyle.

When the surgeon opened me up and got a closer look, my cancer was more advanced than previously thought. It was against protocol to perform surgery. So my surgeon closed me back up.

Thoracic Surgeon = Scarecrow

After many calls, demands for further explanations about why surgery wasn’t an option, and getting all my doctors at two different hospitals to talk to one another, my wonderful surgeon made it happen. I would be THE EXCEPTION. I would be in textbooks. They would perform surgery.

My surgeon went above and beyond. He heard me. He saw me. He took his time to explain and define. He knew I had a life I wanted to get back. He thought things through with compassion, integrity, and humanity. He was my first friend on my cancer voyage. Yes, my thoracic surgeon was my Scarecrow.

You may have been thinking “wizard.” In the movie, the Wizard of Oz started as a charlatan and became an airheaded douche who didn’t know how to work an air balloon, so that metaphor doesn’t work here.

The Scarecrow was my favorite. He’s Dorothy’s first friend, and the one she says she’ll miss the most.

Dealing With Cancer = Following the Yellow Brick Road

“Ups and downs” were an understatement. My chemo brain fog took me from having no recollection whatsoever of seeing friends, to not knowing what day it was, to having blubbering moments over cat food commercials, to yelling at the Comcast people that I was paying more for less and there’s nothing good on the channels I have and an I-have-cancer-so-you-need-to-charge-me-less-since-I’m-not-working meltdown. (My persuasiveness worked).

The twists and turns of daily moods felt like I had been dumped in a foreign, unfamiliar land. I wasn’t in Kansas anymore. Thinking outside of the present moment, basking in the unknown, and living in what-ifs was the new normal. It was constant and enough to drive anyone crazy.

I had to step into the unknown. One. Step. At. A. Time. It was hard and sometimes I had to (and still do) let patience be my guide. Breathe. I've been told by many strong survivors (who may or may not have been munchkins) that “cancer is a journey.” Again, understatement.

‘All You Need Is Confidence in Yourself’

“There is no living thing that is not afraid when it faces danger,” the Wizard tells the Cowardly Lion. “The true courage is in facing danger when you are afraid, and that kind of courage you have in plenty.”

Even in my darkest days, I knew cancer wouldn’t kill me, but I was still scared. Terrified. Underneath it all, I knew I WOULD get through it.

Inside me, there was doubt, there was fear, and there was a big-ass, loud lioness roaring, “Alright, I’ll go in there! Wicked Witch or no Wicked Witch, I'll tear ’em apart!”

I also learned that courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the tiny voice that reminds you that you have tomorrow, and the fight will continue. You just have to wake up and start the fight again. I was the Cowardly Lion.

‘Surrender Dorothy!’

Things aren’t always written out in the sky in plain daylight for all to see. We each have our struggles. Because mine was cancer, it by no means devalues anyone else’s struggle. Someone once said, “Be kind. For everyone is fighting a battle you know nothing about.”

Surrender was an important word while I was fighting cancer. The idea for this article came to me when my acupuncturist said, “You have to surrender to the chaos.” And the image of the Wicked Witch skywriting “Surrender Dorothy” in the “Wizard of Oz” came to me.

Dorothy didn’t surrender and I didn’t either. But there’s another kind of surrender that isn’t the same as giving up. It’s surrendering to “what is” at the moment, and letting life cycle through. Surrender and let it be.

MyLungCancerTeam columnists discuss lung cancer from a specific point of view. Columnists' articles don’t reflect the opinions of MyLungCancerTeam staff, medical experts, partners, advertisers, or sponsors. MyLungCancerTeam content isn't intended as a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment.