A guest post from Mr. Wonderful
Well here we are, coming close to the end of September. Have you heard? It's Ovarian Cancer Awareness Month! There's a lot to know about ovarian cancer and cancer awareness in general. But, I would like to share something a little different today. Two stories about how ovarian cancer has change my life: the first, about my wife, Sarah Sadtler Feather (1971-2011); and the second about me – after losing my wife. Both stories are about transformation, turning points and clarity in life.
Sarah – Rock climbing at Estes Park, Colorado with First Descents, September 2010
A year ago, Sarah ventured to Estes Park, Colorado to attend a rock climbing program through First Descents, an outdoor adventure program offered to young adult cancer fighters/survivors that is designed to enable a defiance of cancer, a reclamation of life and a connection with others doing the same.
Rock climbing was definitely not in Sarah's standard repertoire. As a matter of fact, she'd never even tried it. She was scared, but intrigued. I know she was also excited for the opportunity to check off a new item on the bucket list.
During her five-day trip, she experienced two incredible personal transformation points. Both would remain a part of her to her last day. One would give her strength. The other would ultimately take her life.
It all started with the elevation. At close to 9,000 feet above sea level, the air's a lot thinner than where we live outside of Boston, MA. Ovarian cancer had raided her body, and Sarah knew her lungs were already getting weaker as metastases were taking hold, ever so slowly. Going to the gym was becoming harder, but she still went three or four times a week. In Colorado, the higher elevation made her feel like someone was sitting on her chest. Fatigue had been a part of her daily existence for more than 4 years, but now it took an even deeper hold. Suddenly the idea of rock climbing, an energy/oxygen-intensive activity, was terrifying.
She called me via Skype every night from her bunkroom. Often in tears, exhausted, frustrated and deeply disappointed, she would say how hard things were. She felt like a failure. I did my best to listen and to be supportive. But I'm sure I also gave too much advice, reminding her of how amazing she was and of her wonderful accomplishments.
But Sarah's struggle at Estes Park is what gave her a new strength. While she had already been through hell and back with numerous major surgeries, an ileostomy, chemotherapy more times than I can count, depression and more, this new challenge was powerful and exciting.
With help from her fellow campers and the amazing staff and volunteers at First Descents, Sarah was able to complete climbs, stand at the top, see the views and embrace her successes. Something about the physical experience of climbing a giant rock face, while others cheered her on, let her find a new strength, a deep vigor that would guide her to meet her goals in Colorado, and, later, would guide her at home as she completed her journey of life.
But, she also had this new sense of strength, combined with hope and a deep, profound love for life. She shared this with me, with our boys, our family and friends. As she moved closer to the end, she encouraged me to live my life to the fullest, to keep going, to be strong for myself and our kids, and simply to remember her and her love in the best ways I could. And in her deepest, giving way, she especially wanted me to love again.
Ed – New experiences - dating in Boston, MA, Summer 2011
I felt good, but nervous. We'd been talking all night about life, people, places and experiences. Few were shared between the two of us, but the many similarities and differences created some wonderful contrasts.
The woman sitting across from me was a natural beauty. She was quite stunning with a gentle, beautiful face and long, flowing hair. If she wore makeup, it was very little, and clearly not needed.
Leaning forward, I asked, "What are you looking for in a partner? What do you want?"
"I want to be known," she said, gazing back across the table. I sensed a deeper meaning, but wasn't sure I fully appreciated the significance of her statement.
"Do you mean you want someone who understands you?" I asked, hesitantly.
Her response was deliberate and pointed. "No, I want to be known." She paused, looked at me and then went on. "Lots of my friends understand me. But none... know me. I want to be known."
"Wow," I thought. This was so conceptual, and so far from what I might have expected a woman to say when describing what she wanted in a man or relationship. Her tone was serious, but there was something else. Perhaps a hint of sadness. Clearly something she had pondered, and perhaps had wanted for a long time.
"That takes a long time." I said. "You can only really, truly know someone by spending a lot of time together."
She gave a slight nod. "Mmm" she said, mouth closed, with a hint of a smile.
That she said "I want to be known" was not as surprising to me as was the depth and importance of her statement. This idea was of a kind that, once implanted, remains active, repeatedly asking for ponderance. I went home that night with my mind hunting for a connection to my own life experience, searching for personal understanding. Of course this raised thoughts of Sarah.
Sarah and I were together for 18 years. She was my wife, my best friend, my love, the mother of my kids, my muse. I was hers. In our shared experience we touched the depths of each other’s souls. We knew each other so profoundly, so completely that our love felt infinite. Our trust was implicit and complete right up to her very last breath of life.
I held Sarah in my arms as she died. Ovarian cancer had won. As she slipped away and fell limp in my arms I felt my soul shudder. Our love and trust and knowledge had been so complete. Now they were shattered. She was gone.
I do believe the knowledge we shared will remain in me for the remainder of my days. I will always remember our love, our friendship and all she did for me. She wanted me to move on and be able to live a full life, and she encouraged me to love again.
So now, as I think of my date's statement: "I want to be known." I think I may fully understand her meaning. And, I agree. I also want to be known... again.
Cancer awareness. Every month. Every year.
I have some strong thoughts on this subject and have posted them at Carcinista.com. Cancer awareness is important. What is even more important, and could have saved the life of my dear Sarah, is to go see your doctor if you are not feeling well. Don't shrug it off. Get it checked out. Be specific. Make sure they know how you feel. Make sure to get a second opinion if you don't feel like they are taking you seriously. YOU are the only one who truly knows your body.
Be well.
Mr. Wonderful
The recent revelation that Eagles running back Jerome Harrison has a brain tumor — hopefully it’s not cancerous — underscores the reality that athletes are just like you and I. They suffer through the same traumas and dramas, and are vulnerable to the general unpredictability of life. Despite their physical and mental toughness, each of which they’ve forged through years of athletic competition, nothing can prepare them for undertaking the fights of their lives. The following athletes accepted the challenge presented by cancer, triumphantly defeating it as we cheered them on. Not all athletes are role models, but these guys — just a handful of the many cancer survivors in sports — exhibited traits everyone should emulate.
Unquestionably one of the best hockey players to ever lace up the skates, Lemieux’s health was his most fierce rival. During his career, he battled chronic back pain, chronic tendinitis, a spinal disc herniation, and most daunting, Hodgkin’s lymphoma. Diagnosed during the 1992-93 season, in which he was on pace to eclipse the single-season goal and points records, he was sidelined for two months as he underwent aggressive radiation treatments. Incredibly, he played on the last day of the treatments, scoring a goal and tallying an assist against the Flyers.
Most 26-year-old athletes are entering the primes of their careers — Koivu, instead, simply wanted to stay alive. As with Lemieux and many other players in the intensely physical sport of hockey, he constantly battled injuries, which, in a way, may have prepared him for his bout with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. While on a flight to the U.S. from Finland, he experienced tremendous stomach pain and vomiting — clear signs that something wasn’t right. As a result, he received aggressive treatment with radiation and drugs, causing him to lose significant amounts of weight and energy. With the motivation provided by the support of fellow athletes who endured the disease, he managed to return before the end of the 2001-02 season. He helped the Canadiens reach the playoffs, and played the best hockey of his career — to that point — the following season.
The length at which a cancer patient is required to fight the disease varies. Cullen’s harrowing 18-month battle included numerous peaks and valleys, none of which disrupted his focus. Initially, a baseball-sized tumor was found in his chest, but chemotherapy treatments eliminated it in just a few months. Because cancer cells were still present in his body, he sat out the 1997-98 season to continue his fight. During that time, he suffered cardiac arrest — needing a defibrillator to revive him — and he later received a bone marrow transplant, which severely weakened him. His hockey career wasn’t over, however. When he was declared cancer free, he trained for a comeback, eventually signing with the Lightning.
It’s difficult not to concede that women are the stronger humans. Breland is proof, as she too successfully defeated Non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma while she was just 21-years-old. A student at the North Carolina at the time, she spent six months receiving chemotherapy treatments, missing the entire 2009-10 season. The Tar Heels leading scorer and rebounder in 2008-09 returned for her redshirt senior season, performing well enough garner a selection in the WNBA draft by the Minnesota Lynx, which traded her to the New York Liberty.
Breast cancer in the most common form of cancer diagnosed in women. Most of us personally know a woman who has dealt with the disease, whether it’s a family member, friend, coworker, or acquaintance. Campbell certainly touched the lives of her teammates and fans as she battled the disease during her fourth season in the league. Incredibly, she continued to play through her treatments, serving as inspiration to the many women in her situation. Through the years, the WNBA has had a close relationship with the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation, utilizing its players to promote awareness of the disease. Campbell became the league’s national spokesperson for the effort, a job she embraced.
A former chewer of tobacco, Butler was diagnosed with squamous cell carcinoma of the tonsils during the latter of stages of his accomplished Major League career. After having a tonsil removed due to what the doctors thought was an infection, it was found to be cancerous, and he was forced to sit out while undergoing intensive treatment. Sidelined in May, he returned in September, finishing the season in which he encountered the biggest obstacle of his life. The 39-year-old went on to play one more season in the Majors.
Coming off of three consecutive seasons in which he hit 40 or more homeruns, Galaragga was enjoying the greatest success of his baseball career. However, just prior to the 1999 season, he experienced nagging back pain that wouldn’t go away. It turned out to be non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma, and he missed the entire season as he underwent chemotherapy treatment. On Opening Day in 2000, he returned to hit a game-winning homerun, setting the tone for an unexpectedly successful season in which he made his fifth career All-Star appearance and won the National League Comeback Player of the Year Award.
In 2006, the Red Sox prospect earned a promotion to the big leagues, but his rookie season was disrupted as he was faced with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. During a late-season game, he was scratched from a start due to a sore back, which he thought was caused by a car accident that occurred a month earlier. Enlarged lymph nodes and subsequent tests indicated it was more serious, and he received chemotherapy treatments during the offseason. Fortunately for Lester, it was gone before the 2007 season, enabling him to work his way back up to the bigs. The payoff was huge, as he won the clinching game of the World Series.
Herzlich’s senior season at Boston College was supposed to be an audition for the NFL — a chance to catapult himself into the first round. In the previous season, the linebacker made major strides, receiving First-team All-American honors. Seemingly indestructible, he shocked Eagles fans when he revealed prior to the season that he had Ewing’s sarcoma. Just a few weeks into the season, and four months after the diagnosis, he declared that he was cancer free. He then focused on preparing for the 2010 season — he eventually started all 13 games and recorded 65 tackles. He was signed by the Giants before the 2011 NFL season, and he remains on the team’s 53-man roster.
At the age of 25, well-before he fulfilled is cycling potential, Armstrong was diagnosed with stage three Embryonal carcinoma. Because the cancer had spread to his brain, lungs, and abdomen, he was forced to immediately undergo surgery and chemotherapy. Even after the exhaustive response, he was given just a 40% chance of survival. He chose to undergo an alternative form of treatment that would preserve his lungs and thus his cycling career. Defying the odds, his cancer went into remission, and returned to training. Now, as a healthy 40-year-old, he boasts seven Tour de France victories, the most ever.
