"I was 31 years old when my doctor told me I had untreatable stage 4 colon cancer. He said to go home and enjoy the time I had left with my family--six months at most. I was raised to believe everything a doctor says, so I can't even express what an emotional tailspin I went into when I heard those words.
I had two beautiful daughters, Katie and Karlie, who were 8 and 11 years old, and a fairy-tale marriage with my husband, Ronnie, and suddenly I was planning my funeral. I couldn't stop thinking about how, when and where I would die. I started crying whenever I looked at my girls.
I lived each day with my breath held tightly, imagining that if I let it out there might not be another. I decided to fulfill a lifelong wish to live in the country--I didn't want to waste any more time worrying if our car was "just so" in our exclusive Fort Worth subdivision. So we leased a house in Canton, a town of about 5,000, for six months, where we could ride horses to town and leave our doors unlocked.
Ronnie also gave me my first computer, and a couple of months after my diagnosis, I discovered the Internet. I posted on a cancer Listserv asking for advice on how to prepare my daughters for my death. A man named Shelly Weiler replied that he also had stage 4 colon cancer but was getting chemotherapy. He said he had a daughter my age and that he wouldn't die without a fight. I shouldn't be planning my death, he told me, I should be firing my doctor and finding some hope. It hadn't occurred to me that my diagnosis was debatable. If it hadn't been for Shelly, I wouldn't be alive today.
We found an oncologist who agreed to treat me with one of the only chemo treatments available at the time, 5-FU. Little did I know I was beginning a long medical journey--one of several combinations of treatments, sometimes for a few months, sometimes for a year. Each one was a stepping-stone toward feeling better and helped to control the cancer, until it spread to a different area.
Cancer instigated another journey in me--one of self-discovery. I've changed a lot since my diagnosis, and I think it's simply because I'm thankful for every moment. Early on, we decided to stay in the country, and we've been so happy here. We know everyone in our town, and I even ran a café for a year. Before cancer, I used to be timid and afraid. Now we saddle up the horses when the moon is full and ride down to the lake. We pull the car over to take pictures of the bluebonnets on the side of the road--I would have been too self-conscious to do this before. And a fear of catching the West Nile virus definitely would have nixed camping under the stars. Now our life is full of friends. We often have 10 kids hanging out in our living room, and people stop by all day long. They know the coffee's always hot.
My Internet community of cancer survivors also transformed my life by showing me hope over and over again. They've taught me to open up and share my story, which has been so important to my recovery--not only emotionally, but also by keeping me informed about different treatments being used in other parts of the country. When tests detected new tumors in my lungs two years ago, I went from what had become a normal and happy life with chemo to being very sick. My doctor said it was time to call for hospice. I was making funeral arrangements again when someone online recommended his doctor for a new treatment. If it weren't for my network and those kamikaze doctors who are willing to work with a late-stage cancer patient like me, I wouldn't be here. I've had two phenomenal years since.
In that time, I've become aware of the power my experience has to create change. I've told my story more than a dozen times in Congress to help lobby for cancer research and treatment funding, and I'm now involved in several advocacy groups. Knowing that I've given people new avenues for hope has made the time I spend living even more meaningful. Meanwhile, I'll continue to ride horses, dance, fight and hope for the cure around the next corner."
We feature two other brave women who have successfully battled cancer in the February 29, 2008, edition of ALL YOU magazine. Get their stories: Pick up a copy of ALL YOU at your local WalMart.
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