I have cancer
April 15, 2010
By Jaime and guest blogger Jennifer
The disclosure of illness can be a scary thing, for both the person who was diagnosed and for the person hearing about it. Once the words are said, both lives are changed, and nothing is the same. This is one of those stories, and it is also the event that propelled me back into the field of oncology. There are many views of an individual’s illness, and these are two of them.
Jaime
Even writing this, my heart speeds up and my mind goes blank. Every fiber in my body seems to not want to write about this, even nearly six years later. But this pivotal event that basically led me to where I am now, and changed the path I had been following.
Jennifer was a therapist that my dad had found for my brother and me when my parents were divorcing, and over the years, I’d kept in touch with her and saw her when stressful things came up. As time went on, the relationship evolved, becoming something more than the traditional counselor-client relationship. I identified her as a role model both personally and professionally.
In September 2004 I had just started a Master’s program in clinical health psychology in Philadelphia and was wondering if I should have done a different psychology program in Miami. I had just started seeing Jennifer again because it was an uncertain time for me, and I wasn’t sure if I’d made the right decision.
Jennifer
In August 2004, on a bright summer morning when I was 39 years old, I felt some pain in my breast and reached over in the shower and felt a very hard lump. I sucked in my breath and felt a panicky feeling rising in my stomach as I became aware that there was something very wrong. I called my doctor and saw him that day. We came up with the hope and explanation that it might have been because my period was coming but he wanted to schedule a mammogram and ultrasound as soon as possible. I was leaving on vacation the next day and he told me to go, and the tests were scheduled when I returned. I remember when I was away the feeling that there was something very wrong, contrasting against the backdrop of a fun and relaxing family vacation. I remember the nagging thought in the back of my mind that this was “the calm before the storm.” And I was right.
Jaime
The previous week she’d canceled our appointment because of a “family medical emergency,” and being that I’m pretty attuned to people, I started to feel uneasy and had a gut feeling something was wrong. When I saw her next we were talking, and I took a breath and said, “Are you sick?” When I looked up at her, before she said anything, I knew. In that moment, I didn’t want her to answer, because until she answered, things would be fine.
Jennifer
I had known Jaime and treated her on and off through her struggles with her parents’ divorce when she was 16 and then on and off with difficult decisions along her life’s path. I knew she felt a connection to me and she was one of my clients who I was concerned about, but I also knew she was a resilient and resourceful young woman.
I had decided that it was not necessary to burden my clients with my diagnosis. I also was not sure how to help them cope with knowing their therapist had cancer since I wasn’t sure how I was going to cope with it. The dilemma I faced was the feeling of responsibility and accountability in the face of ambiguity and the unknown. I decided to tell my clients that I was sick since I knew my schedule would change. I had hoped to continue working as my doctors told me that I would be able to work during my treatments; all I would need is a wig. It was difficult telling Jaime I was sick, since I knew how important my consistency and reliability was to her. I decided to tell her that I was ill and would be having surgery and then for a while I would be needing follow up “treatments.”
Jaime
“Yes, I am,” was her response. “Is it cancer?” She didn’t answer that question until months and months later, once her treatment had ended, but I knew it was cancer, and I knew she was going to Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center for treatment. I don’t know how I knew, but in my gut, I knew it all. I knew it was breast cancer, and I was terrified. I had no idea at the time how Jennifer’s diagnosis would change my life, and if you told me, I probably wouldn’t have believed you. The writer/poet Audre Lorde summed it up nicely in her book Cancer Journals: “I would never have chosen this path, but I am very glad to be who I am, here.”
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