Looking Back On Cancer One Survivor Says Disease Forever Altered Priorities
I was diagnosed with breast cancer Aug. 1, 1994. I was a 48-year-old mother, wife, daughter, school volunteer, Hospice volunteer and part-time nurse. Time was the all-encompassing factor of my life. Everything had to have a place and a time and if anything got out of its time frame, it ruined my entire day.
My week was divided by the activities of each day. Laundry was Mondays and Thursdays. Grocery shopping with my mother was Wednesday mornings. School volunteer time was Wednesday afternoons. Tuesdays and Thursdays I worked as a visiting nurse, if needed. Thursdays was also Hospice time. And Fridays I tried to leave for myself. I wasn’t always successful.
I had the biopsy on a Friday. I learned Monday it was cancer. I wanted the tumor out and I wanted it out NOW. I rushed to a surgeon and one week later, I had a mastectomy. A month later, I started a six-month course of chemotherapy. I felt I had to rush because I wanted this tumor, this foreign thing, this alien being out of my breast, out of my body. I didn’t want it to grow any more than it already had.
Looking back, I realize that the time urgency was not there. The tumor would not grow that quickly, because of the type it was. I had up to three months before the tumor would grow. Even though the course of my treatment turned out to be proper, I wish I had known I had the luxury of those three months. I would have gone back to my family physician and talked to him and explored more about my particular tumor - its type, my therapy options and the long-term prognosis. I know I probably wouldn’t have waited those three months to do something, but I wish I’d known they were there.
During chemotherapy, time did another radical change. For the first time since I can remember, time became unimportant. I didn’t care if the laundry got done. Or if my husband came home from work and I didn’t have dinner ready. If I needed a nap in the afternoon, I took it. That is something I’d never allowed myself before. I didn’t have time. Too busy.
I also let go of some of my obligations. My feeling was I had to take the time to take care of myself. I needed to heal. I couldn’t keep up with my schedule, so I revised it - or ignored it entirely. The things I didn’t do, others did. My husband Jim took over most everything. He cooked for us and he visited and shopped with my mother. My children did laundry and they also cooked. My friends took over some of my volunteer duties. The important things got done. And those that didn’t weren’t very important anyway.
Time took on new meaning, because I didn’t know how much time I had left in my life. I wasn’t going to waste my energy doing things that don’t matter in the long run. This was an incredible feeling of freedom. It allowed me to say, “OK, I have some time to heal now. I can relax.”
My friends helped me slow down. They cooked meals; they brought me aromatherapy candles, bubble bath and books. I had always been a shower person. I didn’t have time to take baths! In the mornings, I’d pop in for a shower - two or three minutes, tops. My friends taught me the grace of baths and relaxation time. So I’d fill the bathtub with quite warm water and bubble bath. Then, I’d light the candles and listen to classical music or jazz. I’d soak in the tub for a half-hour or more. I never felt guilty.
I’ve always loved to read, but during those six months I read more than ever. I could read all day, every day, if I wanted to. And some days, I did. I read a lot of mysteries and books by essayists Calvin Trillin and John McPhee. I found some books written by cancer survivors helpful.
But the books I could not read included those by Deepak Chopra and Bernie Siegel and others who say that your attitude and the way you think affects your health. Those books made me feel guilty, as if I had caused my own cancer. One day Jim came home and I was so angry about one of the books, I threw it across the room and said: “I’m not going to read this crap anymore!”
It’s been two years now since my diagnosis. I’m fine. People tell me I look great and I believe them. I’m back to work part time. I do laundry again (although my kids still chip in). I’ve cut down on my volunteer work, but I’m still pretty busy. My sense of never having enough time returns occasionally. But when I feel that urgency of “I’ll never get it all done!” I consciously try to take some time for myself.
I read. I drift off into nap. I listen to music. I walk. I even occasionally take a bath. I try to get back to the basics.
Having cancer has taught me that there is “a time to every purpose under heaven.” My time is to be used for my family and friends and appreciating the joys in life. Laundry and dirty dishes can wait.
xxxx READING AT AUNTIE’S On Wednesday, at 7:30 p.m., the American Cancer Society’s Breast Health Committee is sponsoring a reading at Auntie’s Bookstore. Jim Kershner, columnist for The Spokesman-Review, will read columns he wrote about his wife Carol’s cancer. Sherry Waldrip, author of “I Don’t Remember Signing Up For Cancer,” will read from her book, and other cancer survivors will read excerpts from books that helped them through. The reading is free and open to the public. For more information, call 326-5802.