For the next month, True Stories Well Told is featuring essays by writers in my “Start Writing Your Life Story” workshop at the Art Lit Lab in Madison in Fall 2023. My next workshop there starts in April 2024.

By Janet Manders

“You have cancer.”

The immediate and intense reactions of shock and fear when hearing those three words are a universal experience. Common thoughts such as “why me”, “is this really happening,” and “what’s next” mercilessly bombard the recipient of this news. Unpleasant images of characters from books and movies who face the ordeal of cancer are difficult to let go of.

I definitely experienced each of those emotions, thoughts and mental pictures after hearing “you have cancer.”

While feelings and thoughts after hearing those three words are global, the way we each choose to respond and move forward is unique. Everyone has to recognize, accept, and do what works for them. In my case, the assault of shock and fear quickly changed to a feeling of numbness and surrealness. I found myself putting one foot in front of the other in robot-like fashion to follow directives from the medical team.

The day I heard those three words was quickly filled by an admission to the hospital in preparation to start treatment. Kind and compassionate medical professionals helped me to forge through the required medical tests and procedures that seemed never-ending. In between those tasks, focused on my physical needs, I found myself consumed with pondering how to communicate those same three words of “you have cancer” to my loved ones. How could I gently let my parents who were in their 80s know I was in the hospital with critical needs? How could I stay positive and reassure my spouse, children, and siblings? How could I reach out to friends to ask for their help with mundane but necessary tasks I couldn’t complete from a hospital bed? With a large gulp, I grabbed my cell phone to start sharing the devastating news with friends and family. Through that process, I could momentarily let go of the swirling thoughts and images, focus on the needs of others, and simply take care of practical matters.

The reality and strong impact of “you have cancer” couldn’t be kept at bay, however. Those three words returned and hit me with unexpected force at bedtime my first night in the hospital. My room and the adjoining corridors were eerily silent except for the occasional beeps of machines. Family had gone home for the evening and my vitals had just been taken, so I expected things to be quiet for a few hours. The lights in the room were off and the only illumination was a bluish glow from the screen on the IV pole next to my bed. Looking down, there was enough light to see my hands folded over my stomach. I felt deeply startled by the sight of loose skin, wrinkles, and blue distended veins. Repetitive thoughts of “I look so old,” “I can’t deal with this,” and “I’m not going to make it” were playing through my head like a broken record. I felt myself sinking into deep despair with thoughts of inevitable doom. Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, there was a sudden and unexpected shift, however. Those ruminations were replaced by a forceful sense and message of “you can do this” and “you are not alone”. Welcome feelings of comfort, peace, and confidence washed over me. In relief, I drifted off into some much-needed sleep.

Remembering that strong message the next morning, I smiled in recognition of new thoughts creep ingin. “How am I going to face this with courage and dignity” along with “How could I take some control over this nightmare” were now occurring. The switch allowed me to pivot from feeling stuck to a beginning awareness of a need to summon strength for the unexpected and unwanted journey ahead of me.

 The true beauty of that midnight memory is that it remained vivid and sustained me through my cancer journey that lasted over sixteen months. The journey included over eleven weeks in the hospital, chemotherapy, a bone marrow transplant, a long road to recovery, and so much more. Shortly after hearing “you have cancer,” it quickly became evident there were many ways to show courage and to persist on the journey I hadn’t chosen. There were days when I felt capable, strong and hopeful. But there were also days of feeling overwhelmed, scared, exhausted, and totally unable to take the necessary steps forward.

Did this mean courage was lacking on those days? I don’t think so. I believe there are two sides to courage. It’s essential to recognize when to be gentle with oneself along with when to take a fierce approach. During my journey, I learned there were days I had to accept my limitations, let go and accept the help and care from others for the simplest of tasks. And then there were glorious days I was able to summon the strength to roar like a lion and fight like hell to survive. Sandwiched in between that gentleness and fierceness, there were moments and days that almost felt like life was back to normal. Those were the moments and days to appreciate the magic in the mundane. A good cup of coffee. Sitting outside in the sunshine. A shared laugh with a loved one. For me personally, seizing the opportunities to recognize the blessings in disguise and to feel some much needed lightness and joy were lifesavers on my journey.

If your reality is that you or a loved one have plummeted into the depths of hopelessness after hearing “you have cancer” or similar devastating news, it is my sincere wish that you find the courage and strength to persist through a journey you didn’t choose in life. As you encounter some of the inevitable challenges, I hope you also experience many moments filled with unexpected laughter and hope. And finally, may beliefs that empower you to move forward fill your being and sustain you along the way.

 You can do this. You are not alone.

© 2024 Janet Manders

Janet is a newly retired Occupational Therapist who enjoyed a career of working with Public School Teachers to support students to be successful academically, socially, and emotionally. She has always enjoyed books and is currently working on a memoir along with picture books for children.