Those words are so powerful.
It has taken me 10 years to be able to write them down. I feel ready to share now in hopes it can
help others who hear them or fear them. I
realized as I thought about what to share, this will likely take me a
few posts. This is Day One.
I remember the day I heard the words like it was
yesterday.
I remember distinct details which seem burned into my
brain. Generally, I have trouble remembering specifics of a few days ago if I don’t
write them down.
We lived in Chicago.
I was sitting at my cubicle desk enjoying the sunshine and the
excitement of a recent promotion and new role.
I got a call from my doctor to come in for my test results from a recent
relatively routine procedure. I felt
they had done it in part to humor me since they knew I like to get concrete
information rather than probabilities whenever possible. I told my husband Michael I would need to
stop by the office on my way home so would be a little later. He immediately sensed something was
amiss asking, “Why do you have to come in?
It can’t be good news.” I laughed
and told him, “You worry too much. I am
sure it is nothing serious.”
I didn’t give it much more mind share as I wrapped up my day
and drove the few minutes to the medical building. I waited until the doctor
could see me. When we were in the examining
room, he told me those simple words.
“You have cancer.” I can't recall much about what else he said. It felt like airplanes were
landing in my head. I saw his mouth
moving but could not hang on to the words as they danced around my
consciousness without any order.
I was a healthy 37 year old with two young boys – how could I have
cancer? I had never even heard of this
type before: cancer of the uterine lining.
I nodded as he explained things which I couldn’t take in and
walked numbly to my car. My whole world had
shifted and turned upside down in the span of minutes. I no longer saw the sunshine or even what was
happening around me. I called Michael as
I started to drive. I felt tears freely flowing down my cheeks as I told him.
I could hear the devastation in his voice and didn’t know what more to
say. I couldn’t quite wrap my mind around what I had just heard. Surely this was a nightmare and I would wake
soon.
Instinctively, I called a friend who was a breast cancer
survivor and had lost her younger sister to the same disease when we worked
together. She was a no nonsense high
powered executive. She told me. “You
have to own getting yourself the best care.”
She offered to have any doctors I considered thoroughly checked out and
told me she was with me. I clung to her
words and confidence like a life raft in the middle of a choppy ocean.
When I approached my home, panic and helplessness
began to wash over me. What was I going to
do? How was this even possible? I saw my husband sitting outside the house on
our front steps – tears streaking his handsome face. His look mirrored all that was running
through my head. It was almost too much to bear. We hugged and cried – neither of us knew the right
words for what we were facing. Our boys
were seven and three. We went through
the motions of a normal evening until they were in bed.
I then slowly descended the stairs to our basement and lowered myself to the middle of the
floor. I let the sobs and fear just roll
through my body like the waves of the ocean - -ebbing and flowing
continuously. Michael came down to
check on me. Again I saw my worst fears reflected in his eyes. I asked him something I knew I needed, “You
need to act like everything is normal. I can’t do this if every time I look at you I
see you expecting the worst. I really
need you to do this for me.”
Now I appreciate
what an impossible request this was but at the time it was so important to
me. I was gearing up for a fight and I needed my best friend and life partner to be his confident self. I don’t panic about much and wanted to attack
this like I would any other complex challenge.
I gave myself the one evening to let the most unproductive emotions and
thoughts take center stage. And I knew
in the morning, I would get to the business of making a plan to ensure I was
there for my family.
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| Damian 3 and Dimitri 7 -- 2004 |
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| Me and the boys hanging out in our basement --2004 |
