Monday, January 14, 2008
My name is Doug Haberstroh, and this is the story of my wife Keri, who was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2005 at the age of 25. After several rounds of treatment, the cancer spread to her sacrum, causing intense pain. Keri's update email sent to our friends and loved ones describes her frus...
I was profoundly moved by your story. Now THAT is a love story and you are a very special and brave young man! I was diagnosed and treated for early stage double breast cancer three years ago, aged 46 and know what the roller coaster ride feels like. By the grace of God, it was caught early and I only had one giant double mastectomy with immediate reconstruction and that was it. But each day is a gift now. And people like you become even more special. To give of yourself so freely and with so much love after losing the one that matters the most to you - that is love. By the Grace of God. Your wife got to experience that. True, reciprocal love. Not everyone has that experience. You did. And so you are generous. Thanks for your courage and sweetness. Carpe Diem!
Cecilie, thank you so much for taking the time to post your beautiful words here. I'm glad you've recovered (I know what a long process it is), and are continuing to live a cancer-free life. And I'm glad you've retained your feeling that every day is precious; sometimes, as time goes by, we forget that lesson. Carpe diem, indeed! Take care- PJH
Lovely to get such warm feedback! I am about to write about my journey as well. I had two key women in my life showing me the way, smoothing out the path before my surgery who were there for me after my op as well. I want to reach as many women as I can and "sprinkle some fairy dust" around as they go through this immense challenge. For life is truly magical. It always was but even more so now. There is always a silver lining. One of them for me was to meet myself, truly, for the first time. With one's back against the wall like that, one has to, or sink. And there I was, despite deep childhood trauma, despite years of addiction, then recovery through deep therapy work. There I was; a wholesome, feisty, comforting, vibrant adult self. And that me marched into surgery with a sense of protection, of being cradled by something larger than myself. A giant silver lining. I am filled with deep gratitude. That I caught it early, that I had strong and loving women in my life showing me the way, and that I arrived... in time for myself, when it really mattered. Life is incredible. Humbling. Precious. Fragile. And sweet. Thank God! Very best wishes, Cecilie
You're a beautiful writer, Cecilie - I hope you post whatever parts of your journey you'd like to right here on this site, as a sharepost. I'm sure there are many women who'd take comfort in your words. Pay it forward, right? I'm sorry it took cancer to let you know what a strong and whole woman you are... but so glad that it happened. Peace- PJH
Great idea. I will post the journey here - although it really needs the space of a book. I knew I had to write from the heart. I was a film actress, then a journalist, producer... but I am really happiest when I write straight from my own guts, from the heart, and about my own experience and now that this happened, well, I've got a thing and two to "get off my chest," clearly!!! Originally from Norway, I moved to Boston, then NYC as a teen, now live in London, but after a pretty medieval experience with two lumpectomies over here, I found my way back to savvy NYC (Drs. Alexander Swistel and Mia Talmor; unbeatable team at Weill-Cornell, did the full monty - double mastectomy with immediate reconstruction - in 4 hours+ with stunning results. Suddenly drooping breast-feeding boobs converted to 20-year-old and perky - forever! (Or rather, until the silicon implants need replacing!) Two days after surgery, I was out. Four days after surgery, I was bouncing down Madison Avenue looking for a hair salon so I could have a blow-dry and feel "normal" again. Two months after surgery, I was back in Hyde Park, London, with my Rollerski club, with youthful zest in my stride, keeping up with Russian and Irish athletes half my age! Those were surreal yet incredibly special days. And somehow, in many ways, they have stayed that way; that fairy dust of surviving something potentially so sinister, so challenging, is still around me... and I am acutely aware of how fragile life is, how I will never again take a single day for granted. That is the paradox. And that is the gift. Bittersweet but a gift nevertheless. Carpe Diem, indeed!
Wow, Cecilie - fabulous recovery times. Glad you found those surgeons in NYC... PJH