As a professional ice hockey player, Steve was always up for a challenge but a shock diagnosis of Hodgkins lymphoma at the age of 37 challenged him to his limits. When he was forced to “put his life on pause” during chemotherapy treatment, he found that what he needed most were moments to mentally escape from the “cancer world”, rather than being reminded of it.
Steve shares his story in his own words...
I appreciated people reaching out to me during my treatment, but a lot of the times it was them just saying, ‘how are you doing? How's it going?’ So, I would have to send like 50 messages of, ‘I'm doing terrible’. It sucks. I hate it. It's rough’.
It makes you think about how you’re doing – bad! It makes you feel even worse about it.
When you get these messages, you're in a constant reminder that you can't see anybody, you can't go out of the house. And I guess you just want to feel like everything's normal again or at least that everything will be normal again one day.
I had one mate, Liam, who lived about an hour away from me but every two weeks he would drive over, pick me up, we'd go out for brunch, have a coffee, and just talk like everything was fine.
That was a real help and it really helped me get through my treatments. It was something I really looked forward to throughout my treatment as well.
I’m really close with my brother, Andrew. We’ve played a lot of ice hockey together. He’d come around, tell me something that's going on in his life, or something he saw that was funny. Just being a supportive brother for me. It was good to have him around.
These normal conversations helped me feel normal, not just the person with cancer. When you’re living with it every day, the moments that take your mind off it are a relief.
So, it’s tough when you're going through something like that, and people keep asking you how you are. You just want to say ‘leave me alone. I'm doing terrible. I just want to get through this. I just want to get my life back.’
It’s hard to know just what to say to someone going through cancer treatment. Everyone’s journey is different, but here’s a general guide of what to say and what not to say to someone with cancer.
Managing expectations - mine and everyone else's
If someone came to me before I got diagnosed and said, ‘someone close to you has cancer’. I think I would have been the last person I would have guessed.
When the initial shock of getting diagnosed kind of wore off, I was like, ‘this is a big challenge and probably the biggest challenge I'm ever going to take. I'm going to do this. It's going to be fine.’
I was very optimistic.
When the doctor said, ‘you have six months, probably on bed rest for most of it’, I was actually thinking, ‘I'm going to read some books. I might even do an online course for six months.’
But it was 1000 times harder than I could have ever imagined.
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Everyone's cancer journey is different. I spoke to a lot of people who had it. Some people said that they were working during their treatment, and I couldn't even get out of bed during mine.
I had friends, family and even doctors and nurses saying, ‘oh, you're young, you're fit, you'll be fine’. And I was like, ‘well, if I'm young and fit, this shouldn't happen to me, right?’
During treatment, when I felt the worst, just awful, they're like, ‘oh, you're fit, you're going to get through this’. But at that time, I didn't feel like I was. And that was kind of frustrating that everyone's telling you how you're supposed to be feeling.
I was just sick of trying to pretend that everything was fine for their sake. And I understand they were worried. But I was not enjoying it at all. And I guess I was just at that point where I was mentally and physically too tired to pretend that everything was going to be OK. Where everything was OK, because it wasn't.
To understand more about some of the most common side effects of cancer treatment, like chemotherapy, explore our website or you can call one of nurses on 13 11 20
Being the one with cancer
There were times where I was probably very frustrated and very short with my family. And they understood that it wasn't them, it was just me going through something.
It is so much a mental and a physical battle that you, yourself, are going through. And as much as they think they can understand, unless they go through it themselves, they can never fully know how tough it is.
I can understand how they may feel helpless. I don't know if there's anything else they could have done really, other than just being there supporting.
A lot of it is just a personal mental and physical battle and you've just got to get yourself ready every day. Because every day is going to be different. Every day's going to be either tougher or easier than the next.
The way I try to explain it to people was it feels like you've got one of the worst hangovers you've ever had, as well as having the flu. Your whole muscles and joints and body aches. You’ve got a throbbing headache. Light hurts your eyes. It's just a very unpleasant, painful experience.
When I'm playing hockey and I get hit, I know why I'm in pain. It was very frustrating for me having muscle and joint pain for no reason. It's not like a strained muscle where you can ice it and it'll go away or you can rest it and it'll go away or take painkillers and it'll go away – there was no way of it going away.
It's tough to get your mind around the fact that the treatment’s making you better by making you worse.
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Doing whatever it takes to get through
There were plenty of times where I just wanted to say, ‘I can't do this. I don't want to do another treatment. I'm done’.
But there were definitely moments that I didn't want to miss, that I wanted to be there for that got me through my treatment. I wanted to see my brother have his first child and my sister's having her second. So, I wanted to be there for that.
That kept me going, knowing that if I got through this, I'd be there for those moments. And be there for them as well because I knew it was tough on them too.
I didn't want them to worry, and I didn't want them to go through what the alternative would have been if I didn't finish treatment.
We can provide people experiencing distress due to a cancer diagnosis with free short-term Nurse Counselling sessions. Call 13 11 20 to speak to a team member.
So, I had this mindset of ‘just do whatever it takes to get by’. I was really focused on finishing.
There were a lot of days where I just slept for two or three days. And it sounds quite sad and bleak, but when I was asleep, I wasn't in pain.
There were times where I felt like a burden to friends and family because I would just sit in bed all day and I'd eat a lot.
The only thing I could really stomach were eggs on toast. And I was eating probably eight eggs a day on toast. It was either that or nothing at all.
My biggest take away from this is just to do whatever it takes to get through every day.
If that means sleeping for three days so you don't feel pain, then that means sleeping for three days. If it means eating eight eggs a day, then you eat eight eggs a day. Whatever you can do to get through every day, just do it. Worry about getting fit again or eating healthy again after you get through your treatment.
Everyone's treatment journey is very different. You can never assume that just because someone had an easy run that yours is going to be easy or if someone had a hard run, yours is going to be hard.
So, just do whatever it takes to get through.
Steve had his final chemotherapy treatment in February 2024 and is now cancer free. He has worked hard to get his fitness back and had an emotional reunion back on the ice with his team, the Melbourne Mustangs, at a fundraising event in May. With eight minutes, 50 seconds left of the game (Steve’s number is 85), everyone in the stands gave him a standing ovation. Money raised at the game went to Cancer Council Victoria to fund cancer research into finding kinder, gentler treatments for people with cancer.
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