❋
Collaborate With My Cancer
“Starting a collaboration like this, Ty + Art, didn’t take the fear out of it, but it felt right.”
“Take it one day at a time.”
Ron—PSCC Mentor
This Collaboration section reflects how I chose to allow cancer to relate to me—by paying attention and adapting, rather than fighting.
I recognize the language of fighting cancer works for many people, and for good reason. For me, though, I noticed something else: a rare opportunity to look at the diagnosis through an artist’s lens. In that space of attention and uncertainty, my Ty + Cancer collaboration began.
Collaboration, as I defined it, did not mean agreement or acceptance. It meant staying present with what was happening, noticing how my body, my sense of time, and my attention were changing, and responding honestly to those changes. Writing poetry and haiku, creating animated reels, and working in other artistic forms became my way of processing as much as I could as I was being catapulted forward. Making and creating also became a way of staying connected—to people, to place, and to life—from hospital rooms to home, and across the long, uncertain hours of waiting and recoveries through many days and nights.
Looking back, I see that my work became less about understanding and more about orientation—about keeping my heading when I had no guarantees. Creativity gave me a space to stand in while so much was shifting.
Postcards from the journey.
Early October 2024—My first surgery is done, but cancer continues to run. I turned to writing and wrote this hip hop song, then created vintage postcards that expressed how I was feeling. I used AI-based tools to turn the lyrics into the song and edited everything into my YouTube reel—Cancer Bad Rap.
Why YouTube, when I was in so much surgical pain? I searched for PSCC information online and was very disappointed to not find men talking about it. Not patients, not the medical community, and not people taking care of PRCC patients. So I used my voice and creativity and made Cancer Bad Rap, raw, unfiltered, the way I was feeling.
I was told by my surgeon after surgery #1 to go home and heal before the next surgery, and then possibly go through chemo or radiation. Chemo sounded scary! I felt I needed to upload the reel, my cancer collaboration, so my community could begin to understand my current moments on the roller roaster. CLICK on the images below to see my YouTube reel “Cancer Bad Rap.”It went “live” online a week before my second major surgery, a full penectomy. The doctors and I were trying to stop PSCC from its ongoing spread.
How can you help spread awareness? On YouTube please click LIKE to help others see the PSCC awareness campaign. Share the video, leave a short comment, and watch my follow-on video “Don’t Look Away.”
Survivorship Reel #1
PSCC does not get discussed, or studied. Finding statistics on it is mostly a wasted effort. So I focused my Survirorship art on creating awareness and sharing education I wish I had earlier. Watching my PSCC videos, giving them a LIKE and dropping a brief comment really helps this campaign to reach more men.
a poem—by Ty
In Collaboration With My Cancer
Hey! Where am I?
Floating, in the sky?
Did I die?
No, that’s a lie!
Have I gone to the ledge?
Looked over the edge?
Have I looked deep inside to see what I can dredge.
Is it time to assess.
So I can make the most of what is best.
Cancer collaboration.
I will create for the duration.
Carcinoma teamwork.
Everything fuses into my artwork.
Squamous cell!
Oh hell! You do tell.
Why me?
Take it! It’s free.
Take it, just don’t wait.
Don’t make me wait, take it.
The gift keeps spreading.
I’m losing my heading.
I feel stings from a thousand bees.
All I see is blood, and biopsies.
(end of Section 1)
(Section 2)
All I see is blood, and biopsies.
Waiting in the surgery line, lots of time.
Make me wait until the O R is mine.
Wait. I fear I am awake?
And that ain’t great.
‘Cuz you said no clear margins.
Heal up. Then again, attack the arson!!!
One knife fight was our plan.
Your scalpel and your hand.
Then I would be free.
I would almost be me.
Ripped up and slammed down.
Cures make me almost drown.
Care comes when I’m in a gown.
I plead, No! Not again downtown!
Second Act is an 8 hour dance.
There’s no music and I can’t prance.
My arms and legs are bound!
The tube down my throat, I’m unable to frown.
Eight hours, I’m no longer me.
You carved everything above my knees.
Me 1.0 died on the table.
I’m supposed to be grateful.
(end of Section 2)
Section 3
A new birth, with no girth.
16 cuts, now a son of a Mother Earth.
Reinventing who I am.
It’s a lot. But I declare i can!
Post Op one week in.
Looking for anything so I can grin.
Lightning in my legs like thunder bolts.
Frightening my days thinking of chemo jolts.
Again I heal.
In three months I will appeal.
Fuck cancer, we stopped the steal.
That’s my war chant ON THIS HILL!
Again I wait.
Roller coaster with my mates.
Our caregivers Are Beyond Great!
It’s the waiting we hate.
It is. The Wait. We. Hate.
(The End)
Glass Collaborations-with cancer…
I love working with glass in many ways…blown glass, drop vessels, casting glass. The form of these drop vessels seemed the right way to abstractly capture PSCC, in form, and using colors and patterns. This art series continues into Survivorship with new pieces in process now.
