C.J. HOWARD
I became an osteosarcoma survivor when I was diagnosed on December 23, 2002.
Sixteen months prior to my diagnosis, I started having a lot of pain in my rear heel bone. I went to a doctor and he said, "Well, you're 17 years old, and you're running 65 or 70 miles a week. You're going to hurt in your heel." "Okay, but it hurts pretty bad, and most people's heels don't hurt." So I had an MRI done, and there was this really small growth that showed up. They were like, "Oh, don't worry about it. Kids your age that play soccer or run have small growths all the time. It'll probably go away. But there's also a stress fracture, so no wonder you're feeling pain. Take six weeks off from running." I took the six weeks off and started running again, and there was no pain, but there was always this lump in the side of my heel.
The next year, I started running for UC-Irvine, and about midway through the season, my heel started hurting. I saw another doctor. He took a look at it, and he said the same thing. "You're now running 80 miles a week and you at one point had a cyst. Of course, it's going to hurt." But in the back of my mind, I knew that something wasn't right, so I went to a private doctor that wasn't affiliated with the campus at UC-Irvine or the athletic department. He took one look at the x-ray and said, "Let's get an MRI and we'll see what's going on." What was a small growth, maybe half a centimeter or less sixteen months prior was, I think, four or five centimeters. It had grown quite significantly. He called me up about a week later and said, "I got the results, and I want you to go see this specialist. He's really good when it comes to growths on bone." I saw him on a late Friday afternoon. He had me scheduled Monday morning for a biopsy.
I think lots of things gave me hope. When I first met my doctors, I had full faith in them. I wanted to ask a lot of questions. Everybody talked about bedside manner, but when I first sat down and talked to my doctor, he made me feel like there weren't even other people in the room, because it was just us. I think that, from the start, gave me a lot of hope. When I went in to have chemo and I didn't want to, I was like, "I trust this guy. I don't think that he's going to do anything wrong." He was progressive. He was looking into new therapies and doing clinical trials. Seeing all the people around me that had survived cancer also gave me hope. The first thing that my parents did was rush out and buy It's Not About the Bike. I sat there on Christmas night and read it, and then I sat there two days later and read it again. That, of course, gives you hope. It seems like everybody knows somebody that's either died from or survived cancer. I looked at the people that had survived cancer.
My name is C.J. Howard. I'm 21 years old, and I'm an osteosarcoma survivor.
Anna marie juliano
I became a cancer survivor in 1986 when I was diagnosed with ovarian cancer.
I underwent a hysterectomy and 20 months of chemotherapy. I was 27 at the original diagnosis in 1986, and I really didn’t plan on having any children. So it didn’t bother me as much with the hysterectomy and all that followed. In 1994, I was diagnosed with M.S. [multiple sclerosis]. That threw me a little curve. Along came 1998, when I suffered a recurrence, and here I am now in 2004. I am not on any treatment at the present time. I still have a tumor, but I’m not worried. Actually, I did not worry too much. I think everything happens for a reason.
I’ve had every kind of side effect you can imagine. I’ve had baldness, nausea, weight loss, fatigue, neuropathy, weight gain. I had a blood clot from an IV in my arm, and I had several bowel obstructions, which are quite common with hysterectomies. Honestly, losing my hair was the most traumatic thing. Losing my ovaries didn’t bother me as much. I also have noticed a lot of cognitive difficulties for the last few years. It’s very frustrating. You have a train of thought, and you lose it. I just go with the flow. If I forget something, it’s not the end of the world.
I got married, which was exciting and a very positive thing. Steve wasn’t in my life during the first diagnosis, but I do not honestly think I would be alive right now if it wasn’t for him. I don’t exactly remember the conversation where I told him about my cancer experience. I remember I was having a CA125 test done every month to check my levels, and my level went up when we began dating. I just told him what it meant. It freaked him out a little, but he said whatever happens, we’d get through it together. We did and we are. There are so many times you want to give up. You lose your faith. You lose your hope. He has definitely been my rock; a constant source of strength.
Survivorship means love, laughter and vibrant life. When you’re dealing with cancer, there is so much chaos going on in your life. I think that you have to always be on the lookout for that bright, little, shining star in the midst of all that chaos, because it’s there.
Some days it’s very hard to find hope, because you wake up, it’s cold out and you’d rather be in the Caribbean on a cruise ship. You run out of coffee filters, and the littlest thing sets you off. Then, all of a sudden you realize, I am alive. The sun is shining, or it’s raining, or it’s dark. I’m alive. Here I am, I’m breathing, and everything is wonderful. How could you not find hope? Croaking’s not stopping me from living my life today. I’m here. I’m beautiful. I’m fun to be around. Everything is great.
My name is Anna Marie Juliano. I’m 44 years old, and I’m an 18-year ovarian cancer survivor.
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