My doctor told me I had cancer. As he began to discuss my prognosis and my future all I could hear was “cancer” loudly echoing in my head. Cancer was this six letter word that spelled imminent death; a word that hit me like a ton of bricks. In this moment sitting on a cold chair in my doctor’s office my life stopped completely. I thought about all the things that I had yet to achieve and all the people that I had yet to meet. My life as I knew it was over. I had mesothelioma and a year to live. Just the day before I was a struggling college student worrying about exams, friends, and boys; now I was contemplating how I should live my last days. I left my doctor’s office with my head hung low. I wanted to cry but I couldn’t muster a tear. I walked into my studio apartment and crawled in my bed. I called my mom and somehow told her what the doctor told me through my tears. Tired from crying I finally fell asleep. I thought I would be able to sleep my last days away. But that didn’t happen. I couldn’t sleep; my mind couldn’t stop racing. I got on my knees and prayed. This was the only thing that I felt I could do since I was feeling very powerless. As I searched my Bible, I came upon Philippians 4:11 which read “Not that I speak in regard to need, for I have learned in whatever state I am, to be content.” During my long conversation with God, it clicked. I realized that I couldn’t feel sorry for myself. I needed to do something about. I couldn’t give up on life. I wiped the tears away and declared, “I have cancer but I’m going to beat this."
The next day I began the quest to conquer cancer. I started my search on Google. It was important for me to know exactly what this cancer was. I needed to know everything about the disease that was taking over my body, mesothelioma. I made another appointment with my doctor. This time around I was actually able to listen to him with a clear mind. He mentioned chemotherapy and radiation. He also gently reminded me that I should probably start tying up the loose ends of my life. The optimism that I arrived with swiftly disappeared. I realized that in order to really conquer mesothelioma, I needed more than optimism and this one doctor. I would need more doctors and more information. According to my doctor I was racing an expeditious life clock. Once again, I left with tears trickling down my cheeks and calling my mother. After an upbeat conversation with her, I dropped to my knees and prayed. This cancer would not only take time to beat, it would take more tears than I anticipated.
As I began compiling more information about mesothelioma, I believed that there was more to cancer treatment than chemotherapy and radiation which were the only treatments being offered to me. There had to be alternatives. At this point in time, I had a list of doctors around the state that had anything to say about mesothelioma. I was always on the phone making appointments with oncologists and varied specialists. I felt I was making strides in creating my own cancer treatment but I was missing two big components, my physical and mental health. I was so focused on what was going on inside of my body that I forgot about everything else. I was attempting to keep my life as normal as possible. I only told my mother about my diagnosis. I attended my classes and studied just as I had before. I was dealing with mesothelioma as if it was another class. It was easier this way or so I thought. By not allowing it to completely take over was the only way I could face it at the time. My friends and family didn’t know. It was one thing receiving a pitiful look and hug from your doctors and nurses but to have that same look and action from your friends and family was disheartening. I couldn’t do it. Besides my constant phone calls to my mother, I was developing a closer relationship to God. I had to believe in something bigger than me because in my mind there was no rhyme or reason why my body decided to turn against me. On the days I was angry with God, I always asked him why. Why me? Not that I wanted someone else to have this disease, I just wanted to know why God wanted me to experience cancer. I had more days with uplifting conversations with God than angry ones. I knew that I was blessed and that at any moment my life could be taken away from me. I worked on staying strong in my faith and my will to live. While I was somewhat spiritually stable, my physical health was something else. I became so consumed with keeping the façade of a normal life intact; I was stressing myself out in actuality. I needed to tell my friends and family. I needed to stop being angry with God. I needed to talk to people who were struggling with their sanity because of cancer. I was slowly losing mine. With the resources I had and the connections that I made, I was able to find a support group near campus. It felt great talking to people who understood my fate and who somehow mustered the energy to wake up and face the world like me. I revealed to them that I didn’t tell my friends and family; it was gnawing at me. My support group told me that this was manifesting itself into a roadblock that was inhibiting my treatment. I could do nothing but agree. So I made the decision to tell everyone.
My mom and I called my family members one by one and told them the news of my diagnosis. That ton of bricks that I encountered on the fateful day I found out about my cancer delivered its second blow. Hearing the sorrow in my grandmother’s voice broke my heart. After each phone call it took all of my being not to give up; with each phone call my disease became more real. It wasn’t until I told my friends at school that I realized the gravity of my disease. I called my closest friends over for dinner. Choking back tears, I told them everything. As they enveloped me in hugs, I felt the bricks lift. Telling them was the best decision. I was able to simply live and focus on surviving without the feeling of deception hovering over me.
My friends proved to be a great asset to my treatment. For the most part they didn’t treat me any differently than before which I think was my biggest fear. They were always emailing articles and contacts that they felt would help me. On one such day one of my friends emailed an article about a man named James “Rhio” O’Connor. He too was diagnosed with mesothelioma but he lived with it for more than six years. I couldn’t believe it. His road to survival was a long one and he really studied this disease and other alternatives. I realized that the little information I had was nothing compared to this man. I was rejuvenated about my prognosis and I wholeheartedly believed that I was going to live. I had to revamp my treatment. I knew that I couldn’t follow Mr. O’Connor’s treatment exactly because cancer is different in each person, but I could use his journey as a guide. With that in mind, I met with a nutritionist and reconnected with my personal trainer. I began taking Yoga classes which along with my support group were such great releases. I also met with doctors that offered alternative treatments. I still kept in touch with my other doctors because Chemotherapy and radiation were still option. I thought that would be best for me. I don’t think the positive turn in my state of mind would’ve changed had it not been for that email discussing Mr. O’Connor’s journey. His story was refreshing. It was energizing to read about a person who didn’t succumb to this debilitating illness.
Six letters changed my life; some days it was for the better other days I couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. I don’t know what this disease has in store for me but I’m going to meet it head on. I think it’s the right thing to do. On my way to another countless doctor’s appointment, I whisper Philippians 4:11 under my breath, “Not that I speak in regard to need, for I have learned in whatever state I am, to be content.” I know I’m going to make it.
