On August 28, 2009, I was told that I had colon cancer. I’ve known it for years. I can’t say exactly how I knew, but I knew. I’ve been thinking that I had cancer for years now. Isn’t that strange? Maybe I gave myself cancer by thinking about it too much. Or maybe I’ve had it for a long time, and my body was telling me to tell someone. Too late now. But I’ve never been that kind of person. I’ve never been the type to whine about how I’m feeling. Whine about other things, lesser things, sure, but not about my well-being. It just never seemed right to me.
I always wanted to be tough. I used to work out two hours a day, just so that I could really feel tough. I could do three pull ups. In case you didn’t know, that’s really good for a female who isn’t in the armed forces. It’s been years since those days, and I’m not feeling so tough now, but maybe now is exactly when I need to get myself back on that track. My coworkers, bosses, etc. have been so kind to me, they have given me the time, so why not, right? Jeff is covering my class, Bob will just work a bit harder than usual, and Katie will undoubtedly cover duty times whenever necessary. I am concerned about the kids, though.
No, not my kids. Well, yes, my kids, exactly. I work at a boarding school, the one place in the world where you can hide nothing. I live on the end of a hall of 29 girls and one other adult. My husband and I live in a fairly nice apartment, just close enough, but not too close, to those 29 teens. What will happen when they find out? Certain students will be devastated, and others will hardly care. They will say, “Oh, that is so sad,” and go back to their conversation about boys or shopping. But the ones who care, who really care. What will they do? Who will they turn to with their sadness? They’ve been turning to me, and if they can no longer do that, then what?
I think I’ve informed everyone who needs to know about what is happening to me, and they will keep it quiet until I know exactly how far my disease has progressed. If I’m lucky, it’s just in the colon, in that one place, and they can take it out, and I can move on. Unfortunately, I know in my heart that this is not the case. If I’m going to be rid of cancer, I am going to have to fight it all the way. I have a game plan though. It hasn’t been fully formed, but it includes lots of nutritional help, physical fitness, lots of positivity, and an open mind. As soon as I lose any of those things, it’s over. But I can do it. I’m tough.
Weight: 121.5 lbs; Mood: Defiant