You Should Write a Book!

You should write a book! I had heard that so many times after my first diagnosis. I was an upbeat, model patient...always seemed optimistic, always looking on the bright side...always feeling lucky.

I actually started a book....called Vanity Interrupted. I was going to write it as a humorous self-help guide. The text that follows below was the "Introduction" to that book.

I would like to apologize if anybody reading this finds it offensive, no hard feelings...just trying to be funny....I will put it in italics so you know it is the 'book" and not a recent post.

Something Interrupted

Introduction

I was not a pretty child. Definitely not one of those adorable little girls who had everyone in the palm of their hands. Awkward smile, braces at 10, eye glasses, stringy blonde hair, bow-legged, always sunburned never tan, no fashion sense and oh yeah, webbed toes thrown in for good measure. I used to pray to be pretty…actually asked Jesus to give me boobs like the women in Playboy magazine. Well Jesus never delivered but 20 years later Dr. Baker gave me beautiful breasts… and 4 years after that cancer took them away.

This is a book about my journey through Breast Cancer World. This is also a book about the lessons I learned about facing not only cancer but a course of treatment that actually attacks the very things I felt made me a woman..…breasts, hair, skin, fertility, my sexuality.

How is this book different than all the other “how to do breast cancer” books? This will be an attempt at a guidebook for women on how to feel beautiful and hopeful as they face the devastating news of the diagnosis of breast cancer. You can also get some great tips on moisturizers.

Whether you are newly diagnosed, in the middle of your own journey or the loved one of a woman going through the drama of breast cancer…. hopefully you will be able to pick up one or two tidbits to make you laugh or to help you deal with frustrating physical aspects of your treatment.

Everyone’s experience with this disease is unique as they are. But if you are a woman worried about your hair, your skin, your figure and your sexuality (and if you are not worried could you PLEASE write a book for the rest of us on how NOT to worry)…I will share with you some of my experiences, tips, coping mechanism’s and words of encouragement to hopefully lighten the load just a little.


A woman is like a teabag….you never know how strong she is until you put her into hot water….Mae West


2002…what an unbelievable year. I hit the jackpot….unemployment, divorce, cancer, baldness, 3 surgeries, welfare, the beginnings of bankruptcy, lost friends, lost family….and I wouldn’t trade that year for anything!!!

You are probably reading a variety of support books on breast cancer…and no doubt you will read from more than one survivor that states “breast cancer was a blessing” or “a rewarding experience”. And you are no doubt thinking that chemo MUST make women insane. (Well it kind of does, but I assure you only temporarily).

So how could, what should have been the worst year of my life turn into one of the best? In short, I learned what love is. I learned with an almost audible POP! I am actually writing this book in order to recapture that POP! I don’t want to forget…I have lessons I learned that I want to share…and lessons I don’t want to forget in the fog of everyday life of being “back to normal”.

So when a breast cancer survivor tells you that cancer was a blessing…it means for awhile they understood how precious life is and what is important…truly important. Of course we all know what is important…. family, friends, church, country…. yada, yada, yada. But to feel what is important, with absolute clarity…what an experience.

No don’t get me wrong right off the bat…this is a book about how to have hope and to even feel lucky while going through breast cancer treatment….but it is ALSO about exfoliating, moisturizing, wigs and the joy of a good personal lubricant.

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Panic Time

So let’s back up a bit…I have never been one to have illness or any physical ailment manifested by stress, or depression. No nervous stomach, no headaches, no back pain…a lot of the stuff my female friends complained about getting all the time when they were stressed out or nervous about something.

That all changed sometime in the spring of 2001. I had a full-on panic attack that lasted about 8 months.

These were the 8 months that lead up to my leaving my husband at the time and his three children…or should I say 2 adult sons and 16-year-old daughter. I don’t want to go into too much detail about this time in my life….that is whole other book or about 10 installments on the Dr. Phil show.

During those 8 months I always had this unshakable feeling of dread, my heart rate always seemed to be elevated…I lost a lot of sleep, weight and even my sense of humor. I was turning 40 that year and those close to me just chalked it up to some type of mid-life crisis. The events that happened on September 11th of that year certainly added to the overwhelming feeling that my life was slipping away and I was running out of time.

And as do most women turning 40 I was very worried about my looks fading. Although I was not a pretty child I had turned into a beautiful woman. There I said it… Believe it or not this was a tough thing to accept…that I was beautiful. It started to happen right around 11th grade and but I only really started to believe what I was hearing from others sometime around 38 years old.

Like every other American Woman when I looked in the mirror all I saw was flaws. Way too numerous to mention here. But for a start; cellulite, a pear shape, sallow skin, practically no eye lashes, yellowish teeth, thin hair, breasts that were asymmetrical with one a whole cup size smaller than the other (horrors) and let’s not forget webbed toes.

Needless to say, without the scrutiny of a microscope, fluorescent lights and the critical eye of a beauty pageant judge…these flaws were not wholly apparent to anybody but me. As a matter of fact when anyone gave me a compliment or told me I was beautiful…I used to think “I must have fallen into some good light” or “I wonder how much they had to drink”.

Why I had such low self-esteem is beyond me…. My parents certainly did not instill this in me. Both of them had always given me amazing encouragement and support. When they used to tell me I could be anything I wanted to be, anything, I really did believe them. I was an honor student in high school, supported by great friends…I succeeded in sports, was a cheerleader in high school and college, always had an adoring boyfriend and I was even voted best looking in high school.

I know…boo hoo, hoo, hoo….but when you are facing 40 and feeling like your life is over, none of your dreams have been realized, you have no children of your own, you are a one woman support program for a dysfunctional step-family and you have one or two years before the only thing you have going for you, your looks, are gone….you panic.

OK YOU DO KNOW PUNCHLINE RIGHT?....MY "LOOKS" WERE THE LEAST I HAD GOING FOR ME AT THE TIME. MY PARENTS DID RAISE ME RIGHT!! :)

That's all I wrote.....obviously from the perspective of a person who has put cancer and it's treatments behind them. Here's the really weird part....I wrote the above text May 31st 2005. Within one week of that date I would have had 3 surgeries, 5 days in ICU and a diagnosis of my breast cancer metastisizing to lung and bones...stage 4 (there is no 5).

So...should I still write a book? Maybe I can call it "OOPS, I DID IT AGAIN!".