My Story

Everyone always asks, “How did you find out you had cancer?” Here’s my story. I left in a lot of detail in the event someone who sees him/herself in my story may understand what steps to take to find out if they have lung cancer earlier than I did.

With degrees in nutrition and business, and experience working in the field of health, fitness and healthcare, I was on top of current trends on health and wellness. I was committed to maintaining my health through healthy eating and exercise. I never smoked. I was diligent about my annual check ups and sought preventive care even when I didn’t have health insurance. I always felt that no one had more at stake in my good health than me.

I enjoyed excellent health until I was 35 years old. I got my first cold in years! I was also 8 months pregnant with my first child. My daughter, Sarah, was born a few weeks early, she was tiny, healthy and wonderful.

I settled into my life as a new mother. I loved it! When my daughter was almost two years old, I decided it was time to choose a family physician rather than each of us seeing individual doctors in different locations. Plus I had some health issues I wanted to have checked. The physician I chose was close to my age, a very good listener, and I felt a good fit for my family’s needs. I reviewed my “head to toe” list of health issues. At the top of the list was the cold I got when I was pregnant that I still had two years later. She did a physical exam and said the cold was a viral infection. Nothing to do but wait for it to run its course.

During the next few months, when I thought about having another baby, I found myself thinking that I hadn’t bounced back from my first pregnancy yet. I was tired and felt that my energy level was off. Plus I felt a sadness that was very unusual. By nature I was an optimistic person. I always saw the bright side of every situation. Lately I felt a sense of impending doom. At night I sometimes found myself sitting by my daughter’s bed. In my mind I cried, “Is it too much to ask that I see her grow up? Is that too much to ask?” I wondered what I was sensing? I began asking my husband what the probability was of there being a war on our own soil. I was serious, I couldn’t put my finger on it but I felt that danger was near.

Plus this cold wouldn’t go away. It was really starting to annoy me. I was constantly clearing my throat. I didn’t cough much, but when I did it was hard to stop. I was eating menthol cough drops like candy. This was no cold…it had to be an …an…allergy! I made another appointment with the doctor and another. Again the verdict came back, viral infection, maybe an allergy. I promptly visited an allergist, director of the department. We both concluded from that visit that I did not have an allergy. Curiously, the allergist suggested that I could be producing too much mucus. He never gave any further explanation. He acted bored and annoyed because I interrupted his speech with my questions. He didn’t even make eye contact with me. I decided not to go back there. I wish I had asked him why a person might produce too much mucus.

My primary experience with doctors up to that point was annual check ups. And all of a sudden I had seen this doctor at least 6 times in less than 6 months. And I kept being told it I had a viral infection. A viral infection that lasted for two and a half years? I didn’t believe it. But I didn’t know what it could be.

My older sister, Mel, and I were constant companions when we were young. We were 17 months apart, and she always looked out for me. When we were thirteen and fourteen years old we decided for the first time to go along with a group of kids to play some Halloween pranks (soaping car windows and throwing corn). I got caught immediately. Mr. B., on Pulaski Avenue was sitting on his second floor porch in the dark, waiting for pranksters like me. In my imagination, I knew that he was pointing a shotgun at me. I was frozen, too scared to speak. I could only make meaningless hand gestures as his angry voice interrogated me. “What’s your NAME?” “Where do you LIVE?” My mouth opened and nothing came out. I couldn’t answer. I had no idea. Mel always seemed to be if not self possessed, well… then…possessed. She marched up the middle of Pulaski Avenue, (all our friends having done the mad dash down Pulaski and to safety), and bellowed at Mr. B., “YOU! YOULEAVEMYSISTERALONE!” And then quietly to me, “C’mon, Tam.” The next thing I knew her hand was holding mine, I snapped out of my trance and we ran as fast as our saddle shoes carry us…Down Pulaski Avenue, and all the way down Tioga Street. We threw our corn and our soap in the gutter and swore never to play Halloween pranks again. I never forgot her bravery. She came back for me. She saved my life. More than twenty years later she would save it again.

Mel became a nurse, a critical care nurse at a medical center in Pennsylvania. I moved away from Pennsylvania when I was 22, lived in California and Massachusetts and had settled in New Hampshire. Now here we were, late August, 2000, taking a planned road trip to visit our 82-year-old grandmother. Mel noticed my cough right away and started peppering me with questions. I assured her I was taking care of it. I described my 6 visits to the doctor plus an allergist. Truthfully, I told her I’d had it now for 3 years. “YOU GET A CHEST XRAY AND A TB TEST” she said very seriously, and then she seemed to get uncharacteristically quiet. She wouldn’t play anymore. Her seriousness alarmed me. “Wow, could I have TB?” I thought.

As soon as I returned to New Hampshire I asked for a TB test. I asked my doctor if I was going to die. She reassured me that in the unlikely event I had TB there was effective treatment. Not to worry. The TB test was normal. I did not get the chest X ray. On the way down to radiology I read the permission slip. You had to sign a statement confirming that you were not pregnant. I wasn’t 100% sure. I spoke to the technician who suggested I return when I was sure. It would be another month and a half before I returned.

In October I had to leave our favorite family Halloween party, the Booville Bash, early. I had a fever, headache and my cough was worsening. “Now THIS is a cold,” I thought.

Soon I noticed a drop in my energy level. I would start out the day with a normal list of things to do, errands to run, and within half an hour would turn around and go home. I was fatigued. I noticed I couldn’t hear as well. I went back to the doctor complaining of pain in my left side. She said I probably pulled a muscle from coughing so hard. I thought she suspected I was a hypochondriac.

Physically, I appeared very healthy. My cold cleared up with the exception of the cough and congestion. I maintained my 3 days a week work schedule and a full schedule of mommy activities. A friend of mine was teaching a workshop and asked me to co-present. I was thrilled. We would spend 2 nights in Maine, go out to dinner, it would be fun. On November 15 after a wonderful dinner in a fantastic restaurant in Portland, ME, I settled in to sleep. At about 2 am I woke up to excruciating pain in my left side. It was as if something was thrashing around, alive inside of me. I was hyperventilating. I had never experienced anything so weird or frightening. I stood in a hot shower for at least an hour and the pain subsided only to resume the moment I laid down. I stayed awake and standing until 6am when the pain subsided. I dressed for the workshop. During a break I called my doctor’s office and explained what I’d experienced to a nurse. She advised me to come home and suggested I might be passing a kidney stone. My head was swirling now. What was happening to me? I returned that afternoon and immediately went to the doctor’s. The test for kidney stones showed nothing and again I was sent on my way.

I decided right then, before I went home to get that chest X ray. The results? I had…pneumonia! Hurray!!! Pneumonia! That was a good explanation. I could rest and take an antibiotic and clear this thing up. What a relief. I KNEW something was wrong. I cancelled all my work engagements and stayed home and slept. A few times I found myself standing in front of the refrigerator hungry but nothing looked appetizing. I thought to myself, “This must be how people with cancer feel.”

I was getting worse. I had a full-fledged cough now and I doubled over from the force of it. My husband, even more of an optimist than me said, “Tam, I’m worried about you.” He was so serious. As I reached for my second bottle of cough medicine in less than 2 weeks I noticed the label, “if coughing persists for longer than 7 days, you may have a serious condition, see a doctor.” I thought, “If I smoked, I’d be worried right now.”

On the tenth day of the antibiotic, I went to the doctor’s with fire in my eyes. I wanted a follow up X-ray, now. The results showed no change. My doctor called me that evening, I was feeding my now two-year-old daughter in the highchair in the middle of the kitchen, “The radiologist”, she said softly, “suggested you have a CT scan”. “Aren’t CAT scans for cancer?” I asked. Silence. Then “Yes.”

My final diagnosis was adenocarcinoma of the lung, LUNG CANCER, stage 3A.