Judy A. Johnson: “Imagining” Cancer

Editor's Note: This article was written by Judy A. Johnson and first appeared in the Spring 2008 issue of Caring4Cancer magazine.

Ovarian cancer announced itself with burning pain and cramps that woke me early the morning before I turned 55. I couldn’t imagine what was wrong. Unwilling to see a doctor, I tried to self-diagnose and experimented with alternative healing methods. A few months later, when the pain hadn’t gone away, I finally saw a doctor. She ordered a CAT scan, then an ultrasound. The test results showed a large abdominal mass, which lead to “suspicion of ovarian cancer.” I was then referred to a gynecological oncologist, a doctor who specializes in women’s reproductive cancers.

After surgery, my oncologist first said the mass wasn’t cancerous. He sent slides of my cells for a second opinion, however. Three weeks later, I learned that I had Stage III ovarian cancer and needed chemotherapy. I began four months of treatment in February 2007.

I’ve loved playing with words since I first discovered them. In fourth grade, I began writing poetry, and I grew up reading the King James Bible. Both are full of symbol and images, so it’s natural for me to explain my own life using a symbol or an image. I began searching for ways to think about cancer. I didn’t find war or battle imagery useful, didn’t have a “fighting face” to put on, as one friend suggested. Another friend had considered herself an explorer in the land of cancer, but I’m too fond of the comforts of home to be a good explorer. The husband of another friend referred to cancer patients as members of an exclusive club. When he left for a chemo treatment, he would say, “I’m going to the clubhouse.”

I thought of chemotherapy as a Broadway show. Although I hadn’t auditioned for this production, I’d received a leading role anyway. Then I discovered that the show was a musical, requiring lots of choreography! I had no choice but to learn the steps and go onstage. Although I am single and live alone, this was no one-woman show. Many kind friends joined the chorus line, offering food, rides, and encouragement.

I dreaded chemotherapy and all the drugs that would help me not to be sick. I gained another helpful image, however, from my reading about a newer way to clean toxic waste sites. Some companies used live plants that took in the toxic elements and weren’t harmed by them. One of my drugs was Taxol, which comes from the Pacific yew tree. I started imagining chemo as a way to clean up my own toxic waste site.

I hadn’t expected chemo to be boring. I couldn’t relax and let the drugs take me away as most of the other patients did. Often I was too woozy to read, but didn’t enjoy watching television or quilting with an IV line in my arm. Being tethered to a pole holding my chemo bags and a recliner for 5 to 8 hours during my 11 treatments was dull.

I got through the days by watching and listening to other patients, who were being braver than I could imagine being. One older woman always wore crazily-patterned socks, which we all waited to see each week. Another, who stuffed her short wig in her coat pocket in case her head got cold, made us laugh with her stories of growing up a pampered Southern belle. There was such hope and humor in that room! My chemo nurse, Vikki, sometimes could just sit and talk when everyone but me was asleep. I enjoyed getting to know her and laughing with her.

Surviving and Thriving

My final chemo treatment occurred in May 2007, so I’m adjusting to considering myself a cancer survivor. Sadly, I haven’t learned how to float serenely through my days, but still get upset over little things. I don’t consider cancer my friend. Nor can I say that I’m grateful for cancer because it has made me a better person. I still have all my old faults, plus a new impatience from realizing I have no guarantees of a long life. (Nobody does; we who have had a big health scare just know that fact in our bodies.)

I want everything to return to the way it was before my diagnosis. In contrast, I also want to go out and buy all new clothes and furniture. I’m aware of wanting to “make it up” to myself somehow. Realistically, I know that 2007—its challenges and its gifts—is gone. I can’t have the months back, no matter what I buy.

Cancer clarifies everything. I found that eating, cleaning, and ways of being with people all needed to change. I now spend a little more for organic food and include more fruits, vegetables, and whole grains in my diet. I’ve tossed the toxic chemicals I once used to clean the house. More often I use vinegar, baking soda, and lemon juice. I’ve begun purchasing my health and beauty products at the health food store.
 I’m more aware that I need ongoing support. During treatment, managing the disease and working kept me too busy to join a support group. Now I’ve signed up for a local cancer survivors’ group for women.

I’ve also ended some friendships that I knew weren’t positive. At the same time, I’m more deeply aware that we are all connected. I have a tiny sense of what doctors, nurses, and patients experience daily and am part of that routine now. Even though my cancer is in remission, I’m linked to others still in the chemotherapy room and those suffering other illnesses.

In the spring, even before I’d finished chemo, I felt I needed to study the Book of Jonah again. I didn’t know why that familiar Hebrew Bible text was calling to me. Since childhood I’d known the story of the prophet who didn’t want to preach to an enemy nation, tried to run away, and ended up being swallowed by a great fish. After a three-day ordeal in the fish, Jonah went on to do as God had commanded. When I taught the book at my church, I suddenly knew. I was being given one final, important image. Chemotherapy was like that great fish that swallowed Jonah. The thing I expected would kill me turned out to be the means of my deliverance.

Judy A. Johnson is a freelance writer of educational materials who lives in Yellow Springs, Ohio. “A Week to Pray About It,” (Cowley Publications) her first book, was published in 2006 a few months before she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. She is currently at work on a memoir of her cancer journey.