I
was diagnosed with anal cancer in September, 2004. I was devastated. I was afraid.
I also felt invaded knowing that such a lethal growth had taken its hold
on my body.
My
first thoughts were that I was going to die.
I didn't want to die. My second
thoughts were of fear. Fear of
treatments, getting sick and any pain that may accompany the treatments. Fear of the unknown.
At
first I didn't want to know anything about my cancer, but after I started
treatment, I developed some bravery and started to learn more about it. It didn't help my fear, but it did help me to
understand my type of cancer better. I
had Squamous cell carcinoma. It is a
skin cancer which can happen on both the inside and outside of your body. There are skin areas inside your body such as
anus, rectum, intestines and inside your lungs, nose and mouth.
Mt
treatment consisted of front and back pelvic radiation and chemotherapy. Together, they are a lethal weapon against my
cancer, but also destructive to my body.
As treatments continued, I learned how damaging they would become, but I
also learned that I was a much stronger person than I ever thought possible.
The
radiation ravaged my front and back groin areas to the point that you would
think I had severe burns on the delicate tissues. Actually, they were severe burns, radiation
burns. It hurt to pee, have a bowel
movement and to sit or even walk. The
chemotherapy drained all my energy and the combination of both therapies did
take their toll my body and my emotions.
At
one point I needed a blood transfusions because the treatments had robbed me of
valuable red and white blood cells. I
was in pain, depressed and wanted to die, just to get it over with.
Strength
from family and friends help me to find the strength from within me, to go on. My husband kept telling me that I would
survive so we could "Grow Old Together." I was fifty years old and I really wanted to
grow much older with my husband. That
was my hope. New treatments for my type
of cancer also gave me hope.
My symbol became a dragon fly. The dragon fly is symbolic of change. Cancer patients experience change every day and
even after treatment ends.
After
two months of treatment, pain, nausea, and depression, I made it through. Two months later, an anal ultra sound let me
know that the treatments had worked and I was cancer free.
My
joy was short lived. Five months after I
received my cancer diagnosis, and only one month after I was told I was cancer
free, my husband was diagnosed with cancer.
My diagnosis had the word cure attached to it, my husband's diagnosis
had the word terminal attached to it.
Once
again I was devastated. How can that
be? I am not even recovered from my
treatments. How can we start this all
over again? Tom had advanced small cell
lung cancer.
As
I continued my recovery and Tom started his treatments, we saw the same
oncologist and the same radiologist. The
fact that I had gone through treatments and our familiarization with both doctors,
gave Tom some comfort.
I
became Tom's care giver, just like he had been for me. It was a difficult task for several
reasons. I was trying to recovery from
my treatments as I was going with Tom to all his treatments and we both had to
deal with Tom being terminal.
My symbol of change also changed. It became two dragon flies. Two dragon flies are a symbol of love. My and Tom's love for each other gave us
strength and hope.
As the
months went by, I realized that he was not going to survive. Our mantra of "growing old together"
was quickly fading away.
Reality
told me that he was going to die. But I
did not give up hope. Hope that Tom
would live long enough to be cured. Hope
that a treatment would be found that would give him more time to live.
We
supported each other, which gave us strength to go on. Alas, Tom's cancer took him from me fifteen
months after his diagonals. I felt that
my life was also over. Why did I survive
my cancer and he did not? There is no
answer and there never will be one. It
happened.
I
miss him, even six years later. How I
survived without him, I am not certain.
I know that I had to think to
myself, "How would Tom want me to live?" I know that my happiness was a priority on
his list. After he died, it wasn't even
on my list. As time passed, I realized
that to honor Tom's memory, I had to live the best that I could. To love the way he would want me to live if
he were here. To live life for the both
of us.
Hope
is a powerful feeling. Hold onto to it
during and after treatments. It will get
you through, even if the cancer wins. It
is what keeps us going, for better or for worst. Hope is a powerful feeling. "Not all who get cancer die. Not all who get cancer live. But all who get cancer have hope."
