After months of mis-diagnoses (“Like many women back then.”), she went to a new doctor with a lump that wouldn’t go away. It turned out to be cancer that had metastasized to her lymph nodes. The prognosis was grim. Even with chemotherapy, another year of life was a long shot for this single mother of two.

 The diagnosis came just three months after she’d started dating her husband. She laughs, remembering. “I had a girlfriend. She went up to him and said, “You know she’s been diagnosed. If you’re going to walk away, now is the time.’ He started to cry. My husband was six foot five and weighed 300 lbs. She was this tiny thing. But she said what needed to be said. And he stuck. Years later, I was fortunate to be able to stick with him through his things. He had throat cancer on both sides of his neck. He had heart failure. We bought a year of extra time with him thanks to an LVAD (left ventricular assist device).”

She worked through treatment and celebrated as life returned to normal. “When my hair grew back, I set my wig on fire. To me that wig said that I had cancer.” Her advice for patients still going through treatment flows from that experience. “I tell people that when their chemo is going to be done, plan something for that day. Go somewhere. Do something. Give yourself treats.”

She’ll never forget the friends who’ve stood by her side. During treatment, their focus was to help her “keep normal life going.” It wasn’t fancy, but it was meaningful. “I was a single mom with two kids. I couldn’t get wild and crazy. They weren’t trying to fix me or pamper me. We’d go to dinner, to the beach. We went to see Billy Joel. That was probably the best way she could have helped, just going out and having fun.” 

Until treatment is over, she’s encourages patients to find the support that helped her – and the stiff upper lip that is her hallmark. “You just have to go on. You can get past this. You’ll have times when you will feel really bad. Call someone. Don’t sit there and suffer. If not us, call your best friend. You can pity party after you’re all cured.”

She came across an article about Cancer Hope Network and thought it might be a good fit. “I was feeling better, it was time to give back.” She attended training and was on her way to her first match – a belly dancer. “We had a great conversation on how to continue what she did for a living. I showed her my prosthesis. We talked about how she could sew some lace over it.” It was an auspicious beginning to her years as a Support Volunteer. She met up with another of her matches while on vacation. “We’d been matched for a while and she called to invite me to her wedding. I told her that I’d be in Bermuda. Turns out, she was honeymooning in the hotel next door. I’d like to have all my matches in Bermuda!”

Her kids are grown. “I wanted to be around for them. Now, I have four grandchildren. Two live in the same town with me and the other two are close by.” Her grandchildren are understandably proud of their Nana. “They understand what I’ve gone through. One grandson wrote a paper about me for his confirmation at his church. He wants to become a nurse.” They’ve all internalized life’s important lesson, “We never say no to Nana.”

In the decades since her treatment, she’s faced an array of complications, spending much of her time since 2015 in and out of the hospital. A hole in her colon and the infections it brought mean that she lives with an ostomy bag. It hasn’t been simple, (“Cancer was easier!”) but she hasn’t let it stop her. And things are looking up, “It’s been over a year since I’ve been in the hospital. It’s been great.”

After all these years, she’s reflective. “It’s been a long time. I enjoy talking to people, knowing that I’m helping them, knowing I’m giving them some sort of inspiration.” She’s ready to step up whenever someone needs it “I am there as a backup when people are in an especially bad place.”

In addition to her work as a CHN Support Volunteer, she remains a dedicated volunteer for her local hospital and The Valerie Fund’s Camp Happy Times, helping people of all ages live the fullest version of their lives.

Her focus on positive thinking is strong (she allows herself one “pity party” each year on St. Patrick’s Day). “You have to go through it. Don’t let it control you. Don’t make cancer who you are. Cancer is just a disease.”

The post From belly dancers to Bermuda: finding hope after cancer. appeared first on Cancer Hope Network.

But life as a cancer survivor has included its own set of challenges. “I’ve had ongoing souvenirs of this journey,” Ellen says. “I’ve managed, but the journey continues.” The radiation that saved her life also “did a number” on her intestines, resulting in a ruptured colon, three resectioning surgeries, a colostomy and ongoing GI issues.  The radiation affected her bladder, too, and over the years decreased its function.

She’s faced a bilateral nephrostomy (drains inserted in her kidneys, out through the back and down her legs) and anticipates more surgery to make the drainage permanent.

That urostomy will remove her neurogenic bladder (In Ellen’s words – “It just went kaput. The nerves are dead.”). That surgery will create a new conduit from her intestine and replace the tubes down the back of her legs with a single ostomy bag that will get her back to the tennis and golf that are a beloved part of her active lifestyle.

“When deciding on treatment options, they take you through the percentages. There’s a one percent chance of this side effect. A three percent chance of that. Unfortunately, they’ve all happened to me.”
Through her many setbacks, Ellen has kept her sense of humor. “My character was fine before cancer. I didn’t need this to be a life-transforming experience.”

“I found out who my friends are. And who they weren’t,” she recalls. “Some people shut down and turned away. I know cancer scares a lot of people. You don’t know what to say. I don’t myself. But people who were just there made a huge difference. The smallest kindnesses mean something.”

Her first round of complications meant a nine-week stay in the hospital – and created a moment she’ll never forget. “One of the nurses who had been caring for me told me she was putting me at the end of her rounds so she could wash my hair. You’d have thought it was Christmas morning.”

As she’s faced these challenges, she’s shared her victories – and struggles – with Cancer Hope Network patients facing similar diagnoses or considering similar treatments. She’s also connected with CHN Support Volunteers of her own, finding comfort and solidarity.

“You feel like you’re the only person going through what you’re going through. You feel like your family is done hearing about it. Your doctors are an appointment away. Knowing someone is going through, in pretty close detail, what you’re going through is very helpful.”

“When I call a match, I’m hoping that I’m helping them. Often, when I get off the phone, I feel like they’ve lifted my spirits.”

Hope has many faces. Want to be matched with a Support Volunteer who has been where you are?  Click HERE or call 877-HOPENET (877-467-3638) today.

The post Being lucky isn’t easy appeared first on Cancer Hope Network.