What I Learned When Doctors Gave Me a Death Sentence

The following is adapted from Thank You, Cancer.

I’ve always been a positive person. For most of my life, I’ve had a lot of external reasons to be positive. I grew up with an amazing family, huge privilege, and a lot of faith.

In 2016, my faith was deeply challenged, as was my positivity. Following the removal of a brain tumor, I was diagnosed with stage IV glioblastoma, a severe form of cancer that was considered virtually untreatable.

Despite the removal of the tumor, I was told that the cancer would undoubtedly return and that I would certainly be dead within a decade, perhaps much sooner. The doctors with whom we consulted had no answers or solutions for us. At one point, my dad said, “Are you telling my son that he should go have a beer and a burger and wait to die?” The doctor said “yes.”

That could have been the moment I gave up on life. For a while, I almost did. In time, however, it became the catalyst for incredible learning.

Discovering Determination

After receiving the news that I was only expected to live another ten years at most, my positivity initially melted away. Smiling and being happy wasn’t going to cut it this time. I couldn’t just wait out brain cancer and ignore the hard times until they went away. I had to face them and deal with the anger and grief that came with them.

My good friend Brandon Hawk says that we have to accept the bad in our lives in order to move on from it. When I accepted my situation, I began to rediscover my sense of agency. I went from being a victim of cancer to a human being determined to live the best—and longest—life possible.

I didn’t care how I got cancer. All I wanted to know was how to get rid of it. When the numbness wore off, I found anger waiting for me. Who was the neuro-oncologist to tell me how long my life was going to be?

The phrase “one to ten years” followed me around like a cloud, every moment of every day. I had two options: listen to that voice—go have a burger and a beer and wait for death—or learn to adjust to my new life in spite of it.

Thankfully, my parents modeled determination for me. They were already searching for solutions. We met with a new doctor who prepared me for chemotherapy and radiation. He explained that, even though it looked as though my neurosurgeon had removed the entire tumor, we had to treat it as though there might be some pieces of tumor left in my brain.

Although this doctor offered a slightly more positive prognosis, he told me that chemo would sap my energy and leave me feeling terrible. According to him, I could expect fatigue, nausea, and all kinds of horrible side effects.

Radiation therapy was intense, too. When the nurse walked me back through thick barricaded doors full of warning signs about radiation, I followed her. When they strapped me into the bed and secured the mask to protect the rest of my head from the radiation, I tried to breathe and concentrated on the smooth jazz playing behind the noisy machines—tried not to think about everyone else protecting themselves from the thing hitting my brain.

Despite the challenges of chemo and radiation, I was becoming increasingly determined. I understood that we all have two voices in our heads. Doubt and hope. Hell and heaven. Failure and success. The doctors were telling me I should expect the cancer to come back, that I would feel sick, and that I would die young. I wasn’t about to let those voices define my reality.

Defying Expectations

Over and over again, experts told me I was no different from anyone else. They warned me about how much I was going to suffer because of the disease in my brain and the necessary treatment. The way they wrote me off started to piss me off. It started to fuel me. I could accept that I had an awful disease, but I didn’t have to let it control me. I couldn’t let it destroy me.

For twelve weeks after the initial surgery that removed my brain tumor, I had to take it easy and get plenty of rest. As soon as that time was up, I grabbed the surgical mask I wore everywhere and headed out for the gym.

At first, I just walked. I wanted to let my body readjust slowly to exercise. I was still in the middle of treatments, so I observed how I felt and how my body reacted. When nothing bad happened, I moved on to some lifting. Slowly and steadily, I got back to the things I’d been doing before.

Two weeks into chemotherapy, my parents and I met with the doctor for him to check in on my progress. He asked, “How are you? I know it’s difficult to not work out while you’re on chemo. Are you doing okay?”

I was proud to answer, “I feel great, and I can work out!”

He said, “No, I know it’s difficult, but you won’t be able to.”

He found it so difficult to believe that I could work out that he couldn’t hear me say I was.

Despite the relentless negativity of the doctors, I was defying their every expectation. Not only was I back in the gym, I was seeing results. My body was getting leaner and healthier, and my endurance was picking up. Before long, I was riding my bike through the city to get to the gym, then completing my workouts.

Whose Reality Is It Anyway?

Deep down, we all know that we need to craft our own reality. We’re surrounded by endless voices of people who want to tell us what they believe. Which of them will we allow to shape our reality?

I was faced with this question more intensely than most people because doctors told me I was going to die soon. They told me that I would feel dreadfully sick throughout chemo and radiation therapy. Unless I set out to create a reality of my own, I had nothing to look forward to but deterioration and an early grave.

I hope you don’t face such a stark choice. But equally, I hope that you open your eyes to the many ways in which the beliefs of other people may constrain your potential and that you choose to define for yourself what’s possible.

For more advice on crafting your own reality, you can find Thank You, Cancer on Amazon.

Logan Sneed is a brain cancer survivor and entrepreneur whose online business generated a six-figure income before his 21st birthday. A stage-4 cancer diagnosis didn’t derail Logan’s desire to reinvent himself every day and pursue the dreams he wasn’t ready to give up. Today, Logan is an inspirational public speaker, social media influencer, ketogenic diet expert, and a best-self coach with a passion for personal transformation. To learn more or connect with Logan, visit LoganSneed.com.