by Chris Geiger
Cancer Is a Word, Not a Sentence
Membership: # 23
Just a couple of days before my daughter’s third birthday in May, I was diagnosed with cancer: Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma (NHL). My son was then only months old. I was thirty-three and had no symptoms. In fact, I had never felt better in my life. My husband, like all good amorous men, went in for the ‘cop a feel’ one morning and felt a lump in my breast. I had no idea it was there. I thought nothing more of it, it was no big deal.
A couple of weeks passed and I had a general check-up. The doctor asked if I had any questions. I mentioned the lump and was sent for an ultrasound to rule anything out. Within thirty minutes of my seeing the sonographer, a second doctor was asked to take a look at my lump. The doctor ordered a fine-needle biopsy and found the lump very hard to penetrate. The first thing I thought of was breast cancer and I had no idea what was to follow. The next day, I was referred to an oncologist who bluntly told me it was serious and it needed to be dealt with and quickly. My NHL had presented itself outside the lymph system and the test results therefore showed it was a high-grade cancer. I immediately had surgery to remove the lump and started a six-month course of chemotherapy.
I was sent to the main hospital, which was an hour away from my family, as there was no available treatment for my type of cancer nearer to home. My blood was tested before the chemotherapy began. If all my blood counts were good, the chemotherapy could start. I was then moved to the Oncology Ward. I lovingly named it the ‘Penthouse Suite’ because it was situated on the top floor of the hospital. I was the youngest in the Penthouse Suite, which made me feel uncomfortable. I felt so isolated and out of place.
I would start the weekly routine with cancer-fighting drugs. The first week was the hardest. My husband and children were an hour away and I couldn’t stop thinking I should be with them and not stuck in hospital. I felt so alone and afraid, and being miles from home didn’t help. I was frightened of the unknown more than anything, my mind playing tricks with me. I knew people could die from cancer; I’d sadly met a few. I kept asking myself if I too was going to die from cancer; would this be my fate?
The nurses would enter my room, all gowned up, gloves on and looking as if they were entering a hazardous infected zone. I guess they were but it felt so hostile. I continued lying there in my nightie, wondering if I should also be wearing protective gear.
My husband brought the children to visit me a couple of times a week. It was so good to see them – oh, how I missed my babies. My daughter would look closely at the central line and watch the fluid being pumped into me. She asked so many questions; she wanted to know everything. She would hold my hand and look into my eyes. I could feel the love she had for me, and I struggled not to cry. Just the sight of her sadness was enough to make me determined to fight this terrible disease. When it was time for them to leave, I always felt so empty and alone and silently cried. Thoughts, crazy thoughts, would rush around my mind. In hindsight, my mind was playing tricks and I became my own worst enemy at times.
I never once thought anyone else could be going through what I was experiencing. It felt like I was the only one in the world with cancer.
I worried about not being with my children and missing their various milestones; this made me so angry. I was very upset and kept asking myself: ‘Why me?’ There was no history of cancer in our family. I was healthy and fit. I was a good person. I didn’t deserve any of this; it just didn’t feel fair. What had I ever done to deserve this? I thought about every little thing I could have done for hours. I yelled at my poor dad once when I was eight. I fought with my sisters while growing up. I may have even told the odd white lie. Was this my punishment, getting cancer?
There was nothing else to do in hospital but think, which certainly caused my mind to spin way too fast. The nurses were great and helped entertain me – and annoyed me at times, too. They would wake me throughout the night to give me chemotherapy, saline or just to take my blood pressure and temperature. I’d also be woken at four o’clock each morning and asked to stand on the scales. Why on earth did they want to weigh me at 4:00 A.M.? I became obsessed and recorded my weight, too. Some days I lost four pounds and other days I put weight on. I wanted to stay the same but it was impossible as I had no appetite.
Food made me feel ill and the smell was terrible. I couldn’t eat much and yet I still managed to put weight on. The nurses could see I wasn’t eating and mixed up a hospital protein drink, full of vitamins and minerals. Umm, delicious, not…
The drug treatment I was receiving was tough; it took a lot out of me. It was given in small doses but more frequently to minimize the side effects.
Unfortunately, it didn’t minimize my hair loss. I’d always had long hair growing halfway down my back, which I loved. I was in the hospital bathroom when I noticed my hair falling out, not just a little, but lots, from everywhere. Michael, my husband, finally cut it short with some scissors. Then, a few days later, he went over it again with clippers as more clumps finally fell out. I remember standing next to my father with our matching GI Jane haircuts; it was actually very funny looking back. Within a day or two, I was totally bald – I’d lost all my hair. Eyelashes, brows and below, clean as a whistle, as some would say.
It took months to get used to not having hair, but at least it was painless. I felt as if everyone was staring at me. I became pretty paranoid. I wanted to walk around with a T-shirt saying: ‘Yes, I do have cancer’; but I decided against it. I wore a wig but unfortunately it was obvious it was a wig and not my natural hair. I refused to wear bandanas; I just felt they didn’t make me feel or look like a woman. Eventually, I came to terms with it and walked around without thinking about it. I didn’t care – I was alive and I knew my hair would grow back one day. I even allowed my husband to take some photos of me without a wig. These are now photos I treasure and am so pleased with the results. My husband said I looked sexy, but I think he’s just being kind.
I coped well with the treatment in general and was only sick once. One of the most embarrassing times was when I had a volunteer caring for me. We were talking and, just as I was about to say something, vomit not words came out of my mouth instead.
I felt so sorry for this poor young guy, but he acted as if it was a normal everyday thing. What a wonderful chap he was.
I had my stem cells harvested and put away for use later. Thankfully, I’ve never needed them.
It’s now eight years since I’ve been free from cancer. I intend to be that way until I’m at least ninety. I have an annual check-up, an ultrasound, blood tests and CT scan. I get very emotional around this time, as the fear builds inside me, imagining lumps that aren’t there. I think of all the times I haven’t felt well since my last annual check-up and wonder if the cancer has returned. The moment the tests are over, I calm down and laugh at my craziness and go on living my life again.
I know mentally the experience of cancer will always be with me, for the rest of my life. But I have a great life and an interesting story to tell. Perhaps that’s why I got the disease. I like to share my story and listen to others and offer hope. I have a ribbon with the words ‘Inspire Hope’ tattooed on my tummy; this was my fifth anniversary gift to myself. It’s a reminder I’m here and I’m well. Cancer is a word, not a sentence.
One day, hopefully, all this will be a very distant memory and I will be able to share it with my grandchildren with a smile. I will look back and remember I was chosen to have this disease and I came out the other side.
If I can do it, you can too.
Chris Geiger
Guinness World Record Newspaper Feature
(First published on World Cancer Day)
Below is my special ‘World Record’ newspaper feature. Daily newspapers around the world supported me in publishing this feature. This enabled me to achieve a Guinness World Record and more importantly created much-needed cancer awareness around the world.
Congratulations! You’re one of millions of
people, in potentially 38 countries, reading this column today. You’ve also enabled me to make history, by becoming the first person to obtain a Guinness World Record for the ‘most published feature newspaper article in one day – by the same author’. You’re reading this in one of hopefully 400 newspapers that have kindly agreed to help.
I have a romantic notion that you’re reading this while sitting on a tram in Melbourne, or the subway in Manhattan, or while eating breakfast in your hotel in, say, Dubai. Some of you will no doubt be reading this in bed after a busy day, and sadly some will be reading it from a hospital bed; hospitals like the Worthing Hospital, or University College Hospital, in London.
Sadly, another thing that connects the millions of people reading this today is cancer. This terrible disease isn’t fussy who it affects. It doesn’t care which newspaper you read or where you read it.
There are more than 200 types of cancer, with around 12.7 million new cases diagnosed worldwide each year. More than 1 in 3 of us will get some form of cancer during our lifetime.
More people worry about cancer than debt, crime or losing their job. Scientists believe stress is one of the biggest contributory causes of cancer – along with habits such as smoking, overeating and heavy drinking.
I’m one of the lucky ones; nineteen years ago, I was diagnosed with a cancer called Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma, and given just three months to live. I had a tumour the size of a dinner plate, buried in the middle of my chest.
I spent eight months feeling dreadfully unwell, so was actually pleased when doctors put a name to it. Naively I hadn’t realized that Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma was a form of cancer. I’d wrongly assumed I had an unusual condition that would be sorted out with a few pills.
While I was lying in a hospital bed, a nurse handed me a leaflet offering advice about cancer treatment. I later asked my doctor if lymphoma was cancer; this is when I was told the brutal truth.
I started writing a memoir about my experience, and the reaction from people around me was one of surprise when they found out. They always responded with positive comments, but the expression on their faces said, ‘Why are you bothering?’
I had most of the physical symptoms the cancer leaflet described, but equally I had a mental battle to win, if I was to remain positive.
A nurse suggested I keep my thoughts to myself, to help protect my family and friends. So I began writing, a way to offload my anxiety and remain focused.
I’d no idea of the sort of hell I was about to go through. I endured two years of treatment, which included radiotherapy, chemotherapy and a bone marrow transplant.
Despite the side effects of the treatment and what the doctors had said, I never once thought this lump in my chest would kill me. Writing my diary helped me stay positive. I’m 44 years old now.
It’s not a coincidence I chose today to write this feature, or obtain a Guinness World Record; it’s ‘World Cancer Day’. On the 4th February every year, people, businesses, governments and the media work together, to create global cancer awareness and explore methods to prevent, detect and treat it.
With the help and support of the Bristol Evening Post, I’ve made history by creating the most published feature newspaper article in one day. More importantly, by reading this, it may just save your life. Don’t worry, you’ll not need to put your hand in your pocket, nor have the embarrassment of collecting sponsorship money from friends. It involves just a few simple steps, literally.
A review by Cancer Research-funded researchers at Bristol University revealed that, by simply exercising for just 30 minutes a day, you could cut the risk of bowel cancer by up to 50 percent. Exercise also helps prevent breast, lung and endometrial cancer. Even in these hard financial times, going for a walk costs nothing. Breast, lung, bowel and prostate cancers account for over half of all new cancers each year. Just think how many lives exercise alone could save.
The European Prospective Investigation into Cancer and Nutrition (EPIC) study has found that eating plenty of fruit and vegetables could reduce the risk of mouth, oesophageal and lung cancers, as well as some types of stomach cancer. Again, think how many lives could be saved by just eating vegetables.
If everyone did as I suggest above, perhaps I could obtain another World Record for saving the most lives; I’m obviously joking but a nice thought.
Cancer is a leading cause of death around the world, according to the World Health Organization, which estimates that 84 million people will die of cancer between 2005 and 2015 without intervention.
The good news, however, is cancer survival rates have doubled in the last 40 years. More than half the people diagnosed with cancer now survive their disease for more than five years. In men, the highest five-year survival rate is for testicular cancer, with a massive 95 percent of men surviving. For women, the highest five-year survival rate, at 90 percent, is for malignant melanoma.
So I’ve proven that it’s easy to achieve things if we work together. Very easily, you’ve helped me achieve a Guinness World Record, by simply reading this column. I’ve also shown you that exercising for just 30 minutes a day can reduce some cancers by up to 50 percent. Just think what ‘we’, collectively, as a group of people worldwide could accomplish, if we work together to destroy this terrible disease.
I’m currently writing a book, a collection of true inspirational stories from cancer survivors like myself, who have battled to overcome the effects of this awful disease. I want the book to motivate, encourage and give hope to cancer sufferers, their families and friends.
Therefore, if you have an inspirational story to share, for possible publication, please contact me via my website: www.ChrisGeiger.com
Getting Involved
It’s true what they say about the simplest ideas being the best. Shortly after my Guinness World Record feature was published, I received the following email.
From: Tim [removed]
Sent: 5 February 2011 21:27
To: Chris Geiger
Subject: RE: Book – Inspiring Stories.
Dear Chris,
I have just read your amazing World Cancer Day feature, and wanted to say how inspiring and moving I found it. I’ve never responded to a newspaper article before, nor written to a stranger.
I am unfortunately not yet a cancer survivor, but a sufferer. I have been diagnosed with cancer of the rectum. I’m due to have an operation soon to have a tumour removed. I sincerely hope one day, I too will be a survivor like you, and be able to submit my story.
I share your thinking that such a book full of survivors’ stories will really make a difference to those who have cancer – sufferers like hearing about people who have beaten this disease. Hope and strength are two very important things a cancer patient needs to become a survivor; your book provides both.
The awareness you’re creating by your newspaper columns and your book idea will give hope to thousands.
I pray that one day I’m in a position to send you my survivor’s story, to motivate and help others. Until then, God bless and keep up the great work.
Thanks and speak to you soon.
Tim
As you can imagine, this email was one of hundreds I received from around the world. However, I found this message particularly emotional. It cemented my idea that such a book would not only help and inspire people, but would also give readers and patients hope that one day they could have their story published. My goal now is to make this the first of a biannual publication.
When I was receiving treatment for cancer, I set myself goals, which gave me something to focus on. My hope is this book will also provide anyone affected by cancer something to focus their attention on. In addition, by patients sharing their stories, it helps those who read them.
Even if you think your writing won’t win an award for its descriptive prose, don’t worry – I’m happy to work with you to ‘polish’ your story.
If you or any member of your family has been touche
d by cancer, I’d love to hear from you. Any story relating to cancer from anyone’s perspective can be submitted. However, all stories must be true and make a positive impact.
I highly recommend you read your story out loud, as this helps bring out any errors and enables you to check the story flows. Anyone who tries to advertise or promote a product or service will not be included. Finally, I cannot, sadly, accept any story that is longer than 4,000 words.
You may submit your stories by email only. Each submission must include the following: your full name, postal address and phone number, together with your email address and title of the story.
In the subject line, enter ‘Story Submission’. Copy and paste (or type) the story into the body of the email; no attachments will be accepted. One submission per email to: [email protected]
Please direct any questions and suggestions to: [email protected]
Cancer-related Websites & Blogs
http://www.aicr.org.uk
Worldwide Cancer Research is a cancer charity that funds research into cancer worldwide.
http://www.AboveAndBeyond.org.uk
A Bristol-based charity supporting local NHS hospitals.
http://www.AnthonyNolan.org
Information on stem cell transplants and becoming a bone marrow donor.
http://www.BeatBloodCancers.org
Useful information on all types of lymphoma and leukaemia.
http://www.BowelCancerUK.org.uk
Offers support and help for bowel cancer patients.
http://www.thebraintumourcharity.org
Advice for sufferers of brain tumours.
http://www.BreastCancerCare.org.uk
Support and help for those affected by breast cancer.