Tragedy's Gift: Surviving Cancer by Kevin Sharp, Jeanne Gere Page B
Authors: Kevin Sharp, Jeanne Gere
Ads: Link
Everyone else had changed and made progress. The only thing that changed for me was that the cancer was gone. The pain was still there. My body was still weak. I couldn't remember what feeling normal was like. I would have to give a new definition to normal and I didn't like the things this new normal came with. I was still nauseous in the mornings; my leg was useless except to walk really slowly, my knee could not bend and it hurt a lot.
My doctors assured me that my hair would grow back thicker than it ever was. It wasn't long before I realized that would not be the case for me. It grew back thin and patchy and I looked like I had the mange. I don't know why I was so emotionally devastated by the thought of never having my hair back, but I think it was the idea of returning to normal that I wanted so badly after two years of being totally hairless.
My parents decided that we would take a family portrait to celebrate my survival and when we were lining up for the photographer he said to me, "You must be the oldest. You stand here.” Of course being second to the youngest I was devastated. I immediately went in search of every conceivable hair replacement system available, which was very limited at that time. I tried spray-on hair and a wig, neither of which were any less conspicuous than my own troubled locks.
I was consumed with the thought that every woman that I passed was wondering what was wrong with me and my pathetic hair.
Finally, after my self-confidence was at an all time low, I took a razor and shaved every hair from my head. I immediately felt better. I was used to being bald and deciding to stay that way. It was one way to solve the problem. I didn't have to worry if people were looking at me and wondering what was wrong with me. Now I was just a guy who chose to shave his head.
Several months after my last treatment, I was still in terrible pain. I was taking pain medication and depression medication, neither of which was helping very much. Then one day I found a lump on my right leg in exactly the same place the cancer had attacked my left leg. My heart sank. I went to the hospital for my post treatment appointment and was told that because my treatments had ended and I was now an adult, I couldn't see the pediatric doctors that I was comfortable with. I was sent to the adult oncology clinic for the first of my many check-ups. I was very concerned that the cancer had come back, so I immediately told the new doctor about the lump I had found. He looked me straight in the eye and said, "I think you are so worried about the cancer returning that you are feeling things that aren't there.” I couldn't believe my ears. I was exactly in the same situation as I was in high school with doctors telling me that my pain and concerns were all in my head. I left that clinic and decided that if I were to get sick again I would be able to tell and would go about finding a new doctor on my own. I never went back to that clinic again.
The next year was a challenge for my family and me. I started drinking to mask my pain, and hung around the house watching TV. I was also taking morphine every day for pain. I couldn’t get a grip on what I had been through. My family had made so much sacrifice. I had spent years dreaming of things that I thought would never come true, and now I felt I had no purpose. The anti-depressant drugs sure didn’t live up to their name. I was in a deep, dark tunnel and couldn’t see the light of day.
I still dreamed of music and performing, but since I didn’t need the dreams to get me through the fear of cancer or dying; they seemed to lose their luster. I never thought that singing would be my future. I didn’t really care that much anymore.
It’s Always Something
Early on in my treatments it was necessary have an IV port surgically placed under the skin on
My doctors assured me that my hair would grow back thicker than it ever was. It wasn't long before I realized that would not be the case for me. It grew back thin and patchy and I looked like I had the mange. I don't know why I was so emotionally devastated by the thought of never having my hair back, but I think it was the idea of returning to normal that I wanted so badly after two years of being totally hairless.
My parents decided that we would take a family portrait to celebrate my survival and when we were lining up for the photographer he said to me, "You must be the oldest. You stand here.” Of course being second to the youngest I was devastated. I immediately went in search of every conceivable hair replacement system available, which was very limited at that time. I tried spray-on hair and a wig, neither of which were any less conspicuous than my own troubled locks.
I was consumed with the thought that every woman that I passed was wondering what was wrong with me and my pathetic hair.
Finally, after my self-confidence was at an all time low, I took a razor and shaved every hair from my head. I immediately felt better. I was used to being bald and deciding to stay that way. It was one way to solve the problem. I didn't have to worry if people were looking at me and wondering what was wrong with me. Now I was just a guy who chose to shave his head.
Several months after my last treatment, I was still in terrible pain. I was taking pain medication and depression medication, neither of which was helping very much. Then one day I found a lump on my right leg in exactly the same place the cancer had attacked my left leg. My heart sank. I went to the hospital for my post treatment appointment and was told that because my treatments had ended and I was now an adult, I couldn't see the pediatric doctors that I was comfortable with. I was sent to the adult oncology clinic for the first of my many check-ups. I was very concerned that the cancer had come back, so I immediately told the new doctor about the lump I had found. He looked me straight in the eye and said, "I think you are so worried about the cancer returning that you are feeling things that aren't there.” I couldn't believe my ears. I was exactly in the same situation as I was in high school with doctors telling me that my pain and concerns were all in my head. I left that clinic and decided that if I were to get sick again I would be able to tell and would go about finding a new doctor on my own. I never went back to that clinic again.
The next year was a challenge for my family and me. I started drinking to mask my pain, and hung around the house watching TV. I was also taking morphine every day for pain. I couldn’t get a grip on what I had been through. My family had made so much sacrifice. I had spent years dreaming of things that I thought would never come true, and now I felt I had no purpose. The anti-depressant drugs sure didn’t live up to their name. I was in a deep, dark tunnel and couldn’t see the light of day.
I still dreamed of music and performing, but since I didn’t need the dreams to get me through the fear of cancer or dying; they seemed to lose their luster. I never thought that singing would be my future. I didn’t really care that much anymore.
It’s Always Something
Early on in my treatments it was necessary have an IV port surgically placed under the skin on
Similar Books
