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Tuesday, June 17, 2014

After You Hear, "It's Cancer"

Peach Ribbon/Uterine Cancer
by Carol Fragale Brill

It’s been fifty years since my dad died from brain cancer when I was twelve. My rational self knows that over those fifty years, there have been countless advances in cancer treatment—that today, having cancer is not the six-months-to-live death sentence it was when he was diagnosed, and many kinds of cancer are completely curable.
And yet.
After a recent abnormal Pap smear and biopsy, when my doctor said, “It’s cancer,” my rational self went AWOL, and my first terrified thought was, “is this how I’m going to die?”
Fortunately, Jim was with me to reinforce all the positive things the doctor said about catching it early because I take care of myself, get regular physicals and Pap tests, and that this type of cancer is typically curable.
After a few more hours of dark thoughts, a fragile acceptance started to sink in. Amazingly, Jim and I both slept better that night than we had for several days. Having an idea of what we were up against was actually better than the fretful days and sleepless nights of imagining the worst.
We’re in another cycle of waiting now as my surgery gets scheduled, and then we'll wait again for tissue and lymph node biopsy results. I hold on to the assurances from friends, who are cancer survivors, that waiting is the hardest part and that it gets easier once you know the treatment plan.
At some point that first night, I had a brief attack of uncertainty about what I was supposed to do next—put my life on hold, cancel everything on my calendar? Jim and I talked and decided I should do exactly what I would have done before my diagnosis. So the next day, I got up and took a bike ride, showed up for my consulting gig, and spent the late afternoon with Jim reading on the beach.
I knew I’d made the right decision about continuing to “do” my life when a friend who is a breast cancer survivor shared a piece of advice that someone had shared with her: Give cancer every bit of time necessary—and not a minute more.
I wish I could say that those first hours after hearing it's cancer were the only time I melted-down. The truth is dark thoughts lurk just below the surface and pop up at some point almost every day. Sometimes it’s a fleeting thought like when I admire a sundress in a shop window and then wonder if I buy it, will I have a chance to wear it. Or, when I reach for placemats, and instead of the everyday ones, I take out the “good ones” asking myself what am I saving them for?
Most days, I can shake those thoughts off pretty quickly. Sporadically, grief hijacks my thoughts and I wallow in self-pity and project about what-ifs. But even on those days, when I put my day in balance, so far, the fear and sadness are always outweighed by hope.
At first, I wanted to hide my fears to protect my family and friends from feeling afraid too. Then a friend sent me a card that says: Cancer is tough but you’re tougher. I realized I can put my feelings out there and trust that my family and friends and readers are tougher than cancer, too.

18 comments:

  1. My first comment is floating in cyber space.

    Thank you for sharing Carol. It is better than holding everything inside. I am glad you chose to pursue your regular schedule and lifestyle. Keeping busy does keep the demon thoughts at bay. Hopefully, you will not have too many episodes of doing and waiting. It is the worst part.

    My heart tells me you will be fine. Sending lots of prayers and hugs <3

    M.A.

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    1. Mary Anne, I just may run across your first comment one of those times my brain floats off into cyber space.
      I'm voting with your heart :)
      best,
      carol

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  2. Carol,
    Thank you for your courage in sharing your innermost thoughts. You are in my prayers for a great outcome and a quick recovery
    Mimi

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    1. Mimi, thanks for your prayers and thoughts. I look forward to seeing you this summer at your book club.
      best,
      carol

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  3. Thanks for sharing that! All the best for a quick recovery and keep up the positive attitude!!!
    Holly

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    1. Holly, a quick recovery sounds perfect
      thanks for your thoughts.
      best,
      carol

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  4. AnonymousJune 18, 2014

    Carol,
    Thanks for sharing! My thoughts and positive energy is with you to have a complete and speedy recovery!
    And keep writing! It's good for the body and soul!
    Bev.

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  5. Thanks Bev. Yes, writing has always been healing for me.
    Best
    Carol

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  6. Carol,

    Beautiful post that speaks for people with cancer everywhere. You have so much insight to share with the world. This is a temporary diversion. I know you will beat this.

    God bless,
    Chris

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    1. Thanks Chris. It's not always easy, but I try to believe when I get experiences I'd rather not have, that I'll learn something I need to know and maybe be able to pass on to someone else.

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  7. Thank you for this brave post, Carol. I can see how the word cancer is scary, especially having lost your father to cancer. It's good to remember, and remind yourself, how far we have come with treatment. And good to acknowledge the fears, and dark thoughts when they arise. Something I've learned from Pema Chodron is to say hello to my dark feelings - to try to be friendly - "hello sadness, hello grief." This helps me.

    When my mother-in-law had cancer - 25 years ago - and she is strong and healthy today - a very wise person told my father-in-law to look for the miracles. Miracles happened every day. So be on the lookout.

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    1. Hi Julie, thanks for the tip to say Hello. Reminds me of the song, Hello Darkness My Old Friend. And, I'm trying to stay open to even the little miracles, like finding a heads-up penny and feeling like it's a positive sign left there just for me.

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  8. Big hug for you, Carol. And I agree with Julie: Expect a miracle. When my sister, Diane, was going through her treatments, early on, my Aunt Renee reminded her: "People survive cancer. You are a survivor." And so she is...

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    1. Mary, thanks for reminding me your sister is a survivor. I've heard from so many survivors since writing this post that I know what Aunt Renee says is true.

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  9. Hi Carol, I'm new to this website and glad to find it. I too have a sister who faced a terrible cancer with a survival rate of only about 50 percent. 12 years later she is healthy and happy and cancer free. I'm hoping you'll feel comfortable with updating this post when you learn more and that it will be good news. Stay positive and, yes, live your life! http://marciacoffeyturnquist.com/

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  10. Marcia, your sister's story is so encouraging. Thanks for sharing. My surgery is tomorrow. Writing is very healing for me, so I suspect, you'll see more :) best, carol

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  11. Carol, Hugs and prayers. I was diagnosed with breast cancer 4 1/2 years ago and I'm planning on being cancer free this January when I go in for my 5year check. I had lots of melt-downs, had a double mastectomy because the recurrence rare is less. I don't miss my breasts at all. So sending you healing vibes, you can beat this.

    Kaye

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    1. Thanks Kaye, every story of recovery I hear gives me more hope. Stick with your 5 year plan.
      all the best,
      carol

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