When I was diagnosed with cancer, it felt like I was drowning. A visceral wave washed over me: shock, fear, anger, sadness.

I barely had time to process before a second wave of concerns came crashing down.

What was my exact diagnosis? Was it treatable? What were my options? Was I going to die? Did I need a second opinion? Would my insurance cover it? 

Treatment began and the questions didn’t stop, they multiplied: Was I going to lose my job? What about my insurance? What about my hair? How much would treatment cost? Did I qualify for disability benefits? Would I be able to father children? What should I be eating? 

And on. And on. And on... 

The more time passed, the more questions flooded my anxious mind. On top of the practical concerns, bigger topics — things that didn’t require daily contemplation prior to diagnosis — suddenly became objects of daily obsession: Life. Meaning. Mortality. 

As my thoughts and feelings churned, my physical symptoms multiplied: nausea, neuropathy, dizziness, anxiety, panic attacks, and a whole range of additional side effects from chemotherapy .

I joked that I had pills for my pills. But it really wasn’t a joke. Every day felt like a struggle to keep my head above water. I was losing control.

Unfortunately, my experience wasn’t all that unique. According to the latest numbers from the National Institute of Health, nearly one out of every three people in the US will face a cancer diagnosis at some point in their life.

There are a mountain of resources out there for cancer patients, friends and family are often eager to help, and while it’s been said that “no one should have to face cancer alone,” many patients feel just like I did: Alone. Helpless. Drowning under the weight of their own anxiety, and uncertain about the future.

For me, the simple act of creating a plan for my own self-care during treatment helped me go from feeling helpless and hopeless, to action-oriented and empowered. Creating a plan put me in control. 

The process was therapeutic, and it wasn’t just me who benefitted. My plan served as a conversation starter. It gave me — someone who has always had a hard time opening up and asking for help — a place to start a difficult conversation. Sharing my plan with my care team created a healthy dialogue, and allowed people to offer their support in the areas they knew I needed it most. 

I couldn’t plan my cancer away. But by taking stock of my situation, focusing on the things I could control, clearly identifying my needs, and committing to self-care, I could make a plan to more effectively cope.

The process I followed wasn’t overly complicated. In fact, it was pretty simple. But, it made a big difference. 

It’s a place to document your needs, and to outline a plan to ensure those needs are met. It’s an action plan for control freaks, a cheat sheet for self-care, a training plan for cancer fighters — it may even serve as the basis for some functional art.

I developed the CareCanvas in the hope that, by sharing my experience and lessons learned — whether it’s you or someone you love that finds themselves in the fight of their life — that you might find this simple framework useful in your own journey.

Whatever you’re facing, let’s get through it together. 

—Tyler

Take the lead. Make a plan.

At CareCanvas, our mission is to help people overcome adversity by creating a simple, actionable plan for coping and self-care.