Kathy P.

My name is Eleanor
I have cancer, but it is not who I am.
I am not a number or the result of a
lab test.
My name is Eleanor
I am a baby at my mothers breast.
I am a toddler being thrown high in
the air by my father and giggling.
I am a young girl playing with my
dolls and my trucks.
I am a teenage girl going on my
first date full of nervous anticipation.
I am graduating high school and
trying to figure out what next.
I am a young woman walking down
the aisle with the love of my life.
I am an employee and a homemaker
I am a new mother.
I love my family, my friends, roses, cooking
and reading.
I love watching sappy old movies and
going through a box of tissues while
munching on popcorn.
I love to dance and sing.
I am a woman, a wife, a mother, a sister,
a granddaughter,a niece, an aunt, I am
a grandmother and a great grandmother.
I am all of these things and more but what
I am not is a disease.
I have cancer and it may destroy my body
but it cannot touch my spirit or my soul.
So you see although my body may have cancer it does
not have me.
My name is Eleanor.

I was 52, a wife, mom and teacher when diagnosed with stage 3a NSC Adenocarcinoma lung cancer in September 2012. I had no symptoms and did not fit the criteria of a lung cancer candidate.
An observant radiologist had noticed a small shadow in my lower right lobe when viewing an unrelated abdominal scan in 2010.  Because I didn’t fit any of the LC criteria, no specialist or surgeon thought that it would be lung cancer.  They adopted a “wait and see” plan using two six-month scans and then moved to a one-year scan at which that point indicated that my “nothing” spot had in fact grown and was probably lung cancer.
My world had been turned upside down.  I quickly had surgery to remove my bottom right lobe and several lymph nodes. Unfortunately, cancer was found in the lymph nodes and the tumor. This led to four rounds of chemotherapy (Cisplatin and Navelbine) and 25 treatments of radiation along with all the mental and physical issues that many people can only imagine.
Cancer can be a very lonely disease even when you have a ton of support. I couldn’t find survivors in my area so I began searching out on-line groups that I could communicate with about my disease.  This is where I discovered LUNGevity! The members of this group and all those associated with the organization wrapped their cyber arms around me and welcomed me into their world.  This was literally a life-saving experience for me and continues to be part of my daily communication. 
Two years ago, people in the group began speaking about the National HOPE Summit in Washington, D.C. and how beneficial it was for both patients and caregivers.  Because I am Canadian, I inquired as to whether my husband and I could attend. I was told of course we could!
My husband and I attended HOPE Summit and that experience has changed my life.  Meeting other survivors and hearing from physicians and researchers empowered me to return to my own country and begin asking questions about lung cancer research and most importantly, begin my work as a lung cancer advocate.  
The Summit allowed me to meet so many people who are advocates not only for their own health but also for lung cancer research and advocacy work. These people meet with politicians, organize, and participate in lung cancer fundraisers and teach so many of us about treatment options. 
Although Canada does not have as large a network, there is a small group of us who have been empowered to meet with politicians, educate and support others with the disease and spread the word about early lung cancer diagnosis, all because of our experience at a LUNGevity HOPE Summit.
Education is power but knowing you are part of a strong, supportive, and knowledgeable group of individuals is invaluable.  Thank you LUNGevity!

Summer has ended and baseball is in World Series mode.  I’m a long suffering Philadelphia Phillies fan — a Phanatic!  To have a lifelong fascination with a mediocre baseball club requires supreme dedication, unusual perseverance, and a strong conviction that tomorrow will be a far better day.  These attributes are prerequisites for facing a daunting lung cancer diagnosis and enduring the arduousness of treatment.
Danny Ozark, once manager of the Phillies, took the team from perennial cellar dwellers to contenders. He explained his formula for success thusly: “Half this game is ninety percent mental!” Dismissing the missing half, the same can be said of life after lung cancer treatment.
Presume diagnostic and treatment routines of lung cancer are largely similar; the unique and difficult challenges occur post treatment.  Adding Ozark’s missing half, coping with post treatment life challenge "is ninety percent mental.”  Individually, each will face a distinct challenge set but universally, life will be different than life before treatment. How so?
First was a misplaced expectation to return to pre-diagnostic life. After NED, there were so many things I could no longer do. It took a while to realize I needed to carve out a new lifestyle. There is a new normal life after lung cancer, but the mental challenge is finding it. No one gives you new normal; you have to make it.
Several side effects became chronic conditions. Coping becomes a mental challenge. Everyday, I play a round of mind over matter. Most days my mind wins but I have to live with losing days.  Too many in a row and I need help.  Fortunately, my wife is a godsend. Plan to have someone trusted close by.  
I’ve learned to go well out of my way to avoid confrontation. There are no “civil” discussion these days.  There is disagreement, branding, insult and anger.  My spin cycle goes one step farther to pain.  If I walk away, I may have a good day.  I won’t if I don’t. I’ve learned to control how I feel about something and not caring enough to have an opinion works well indeed.
My new normal life is both challenging and enjoyable.  Achieving that state involves application of Danny Ozark’s recipe for baseball success — new normal life “is ninety percent mental.”
Stay the course.