“My Voice” by Sandy Beebe

I used to wear the color lavender…

I used to sew patches of fabric into beautiful quilts…

I used to wear my hair shorter sometimes and it used to be darker brown…

I used to read books about people filled with drama and heartache…

I used to be very shy…

I used to want to have children; three was the perfect number…

I used to know very little about what it was to be a survivor…

I think of myself as having two lives.  My life before cancer and my life after diagnosis. Two different lives, one person.  Sometimes I blend the two and some parts of my old self I’ve just let go of.  Some things have taken me years to get back.  Some things I don’t want anymore and I’m thankful for the change.  To me this is a huge part of what it is to be a survivor of cancer.

In October of 1999 I was diagnosed with uterine cancer, I was 32 years old.  I remember sitting in my doctor’s office when she told me. I was wearing a beautiful lavender sweater and matching chiffon skirt.  My world stood still.  For a moment I thought my heart would stop and all sounds were drowned out by my mind trying to comprehend what she was saying to me.  I could see her mouth moving, but I couldn’t hear her words.  I had to ask her to stop for a minute and then start again.  That very next day I went to see the oncologist that saved my life.  I think there are special places in heaven for men and women who treat people with cancer.  They give hope to people; to survive something that is often seen as insurmountable.

I had hemorrhaged the week prior and had lost half the blood in my body.  My heart had stopped beating properly from the lack of blood.  I had a procedure to stop the bleeding and this is when my gynecologist discovered my cancer.   I had a transfusion of two units of blood and was told that my doctor wanted me to wait for two weeks for my body to replenish its own blood and strengthen itself before surgery.  I was so weak that walking was an ordeal.  Stairs were taken one at a time with resting in between each step. A shower took me two hour from the beginning, to dressed with dry hair; which I insisted I must do every day to feel like myself.  My oncologist gave me my options.  I asked him what he thought would be my best action. He recommended a complete hysterectomy in two weeks time.  So during that time I was given an oral chemo medication to shrink the cancer.  I was told that the medication would thin my hair but since I would only be on it for two weeks I hoped for the best.  I noticed my hair falling out right away, thinning every day.  I would take a shower and my hair would fall out as I shampooed.  My hair never totally fell out; I guess there are advantages to having a lot of hair to begin with.

I remember that first week after diagnosis.  I remember my hopelessness, my sadness and my loss.  I would never have children.  Something I had wanted my whole life.  I didn’t know that there was a hurry, I was only 32. There had been plenty of time in my mind to find the man of my dreams and start a family with him.  I remember the day I decided it would be ok if I died and that I was fine with that.

My thoughts that day:

What was I thinking not having kids in my 20’s; was I a complete idiot.  Didn’t I know that time was fleeting.

What could have caused this….why me….I’m only 32 the doc says I’m unusual being so young with this form of cancer.

Will this be the end of who I am….who I am as a woman….will I ever feel the same again. Why me again!!

The doc says I’m going to go through menopause after this….what does that mean….wait…what are the long term effects for someone this young to go through menopause….but maybe I won’t ever know the long term effect if I don’t survive this.

Am I going to die from this…panic…grief…loss…ok….if I die….it’s ok….but wait….what am I thinking…

I want to go back.   Go back to when I felt safe.  Go back to when I didn’t have to think about my mortality.  Be a carefree 32 yr. old woman again.

I’m jealous of all the young women around me with families of their own.  Commercials with babies stab me in the heart.  I must flip the channel.

The next day I decided to fight! I decided I wasn’t going to think any more negative stressful thoughts; any more. When I took my pills every day I would picture the medication shrinking the cancer cells.  I decided that my mind was one of my most powerful tools that I had control of right now.  Whether that actually works, who knows, but it certainly couldn’t hurt.

My surgery went well.  After tests were done the medication had shrunk my cancer to a stage I with no spreading outside the uterine wall.  I received one treatment of chemotherapy.   I was one of the lucky ones.  I was fortunate that my cancer had been caught very early.  I was so happy.  And of course I’m leaving out a lot of the specifics and I don’t want to make it sound like anything was easy. Time does that, it softens a lot of things. I don’t choose to look back at all the specifics; the pain, the poking and prodding, the procedures, the infusion rooms, chest ex-rays, the doctor’s offices and tests. It took me several years to feel totally normal again. I’ve been cancer free for 10 years this last October.

I still don’t wear lavender.  I feel sick to my stomach and dizzy when I wear the color.  But hey it’s just a color.  I’m comfortable with my neurosis.

I don’t know if I’ll ever make quilts again.  I prefer to live my life less solitary now …

I do more things with friends and family and I try out new things I’ve never done before…

I only wear my hair long and it’s blonder…

I started reading science fiction.  Less emotional drama, more fantasy…

I still want children but now accept the fact that I will someday love someone else’s child as my own…

For me what it is to be a survivor means so many things.  I live my life trying to not look back.  I appreciate the little things and pick my battles.  Sometimes my family tells me I’m different after cancer than I was before.  And I say to them; well yes, of course I am.  I’m stronger, more compassionate and more passionate about issues that mean something to me.  I judge a lot less and I tell my loved ones how much they mean to me.  I hug quicker and smile at strangers.  Most days I feel like the luckiest person in the world.  I lived!  Some days I think of what I lost but those days are few.  A few months ago I was talking to a person telling him my story.  He said “Wow your story gives me such hope. I don’t often hear of people who have such a good outcome from what you went through.  I so often hear all the sad stories”.  I realized that maybe I need to tell more people my story.  There is always hope.

This entry was posted on Thursday, February 4th, 2010 at 10:02 am and is filed under written word and tagged with Sandy Beebe, uterine cancer.