Stories of Hope

Gina Sullivan Diagnosed in March, 2003 at age 37 Stage IIIB, Nonsmall cell lung cancer “This experience has taught me to enjoy each day and to relax a bit from the rat-race of the world. I want other people to know that there is hope; all you have to do is grab onto some of it and don't let go.”

My cancer experience began in early March 2003. I had been on my treadmill that Tuesday morning. When I went to bed that night, I realized that there was some pain in my shoulder area on my left side. My husband said I might have pulled a muscle while on the machine.it would probably be better tomorrow. Wednesday it was not only not better, it was becoming worse. It really hurt and it was difficult to take in a deep breath. By Wednesday night, my breathing was short and labored, and the pain was much more severe. We decided that in the morning we would call the doctor.

Thursday turned out to be a snow day! The kids were off from school, which only added to my misery. I put a call into my primary doctor, Bill (who, luckily is married to my husband's sister!), who sent us immediately for an x-ray. As we brought the x-ray to the doctor's office I held it up to the windshield and noticed that one lung looked much longer than the other. "That's strange," I thought.

My husband dropped me off while he took the kids to lunch. As soon as Bill looked at the x-ray, he told me there was some fluid in my lung that he recommended we get out. Another good point about Bill is that his specialty is pulmonary and respiratory medicine, so I felt I was truly in the right hands! He began making arrangements for us to go to the hospital so he could drain the fluid. Even before I could reach my husband on his cell phone, Bill was driving me to the hospital to perform this procedure.

After nearly a liter of fluid came out of my lung, Bill said he would send it off for testing to see why it was there in the first place. I had no signs of pneumonia, nor other symptoms of any kind of sickness. The first two sets of tests on the fluid showed no conclusive results. Bill had consulted with the chief of pathology in the hospital where he works, who said to let me go.I'm too young.I'm a non-smoker.it must be a fluke. Bill was giving me a 95% clean bill of health, but he wanted to get to 100%. To really see what was happening inside my lung, we needed to do a CT Scan, as x-rays were not picking up anything unusual. He sent the fluid out for a third set of testing as well.

On Saturday, March 15 the results of the CT scan and fluid tests came back, showing that I had a tumor in my lung. I fell to the floor in hysterical crying when Bill called to tell me the news. He came right over to explain more of what this meant and what our plan of attack would be. He had a friend in the hospital who is an oncologist that he wanted us to see, but he was not on call that weekend. We would have to wait until Monday.

The next day and a half, my head was spinning: How did this happen to me? The tears, the phone calls to family, the fear, the visits from family, more tears, the absolute denial that this could be happening. and then the resolve and inner strength that came over me.that this cancer does not belong in me and I was not going to be a welcoming host!

Everything went rather quickly from there, as any newly diagnosed cancer patient gets thrown into a myriad of tests and exams. Having a doctor in the family also helped put me in the right place at the right time. We met our oncologist on Monday, March 17, who began scheduling the MRI and PET scan, but he also knew a surgeon who might be willing to perform surgery on me, if my cancer hadn't spread. He arranged a meeting with the surgeon in Boston. All of the other tests came back negative with no metastases throughout my body - thank God! But the fact remained that I was still a cancer patient with NSCLC Stage III-B with plural effusion.

Two weeks later, we met the surgeon who said I was indeed a candidate for surgery, despite my advanced stage. This procedure is called an extra-plural pneumonectomy and would be done after six chemo treatments. I also went through thirty doses of radiation after the operation. Two days after our initial appointment, he performed a mediastinoscopy and bronchoscopy to be certain of the condition of my lymph nodes and lungs. All of those tests came back negative. I could start chemo the next week.

I had moved from diagnosis through two initial consultations, a small surgery, and into chemotherapy within a three-week period!

Moving so quickly was a lot for me to deal with, as well as for my husband, but our children could not understand what was going on. Our younger son was not quite three years old, so he did not comprehend much of what was happening. He found it quite fun to have a lot of play dates with his friends and cousins. Our older son was five and understood a lot more. He and I have a wonderful, open, and close relationship. He has always been a bright boy and very sensitive. So when I began crying a lot and members of our family came streaming over and crying and hugging me, he knew something was wrong. We explained it to him that I was very sick and was not going to be able to do things with him that much for a while. We told him I was going to have a big operation after taking strong medicine that would probably make my hair fall out. We did not use the word, "cancer" so much with him, not because we were trying to keep it from him, but because at his age they talk about so much in school. We were more concerned that he might tell an adult that his mom has cancer and the adult would have a severe reaction, which would scare him more. We spoke to his kindergarten teacher so she was aware of what was happening at home, sensitive to his needs and disposition, and watchful for any changes to his behavior.

Two of the most difficult things for me to deal with were that none of my doctors could tell me what caused this to happen to me, and the fact that I was not going to be able to care for my children anymore. Luckily, we have a lot of family close by and a good circle of friends who were more than willing to help us. Our family and friends brought us meals, took our boys for play dates, and gave me the peace of mind that the house was running somewhat normally, not crumbling into pieces. We hired a nanny who was here during the week to help care for the children. 

It is my children who most helped me get through this ordeal. I did not want them to grow up without a mother in their lives, and I wanted to be a part of them as they grow up. I was not ready to give up on my life. I kept telling myself that this cancer did not belong in me and I just had to get it out! I have a strong personality to begin with, so once I set my mind to it, I found determination and strength within me to pull me through. I found comfort talking about my disease with friends and writing e-mail updates to those that were farther away. The more I spoke to them, the more strength I took from them as they expressed their love and hope for a complete recovery. I was feeding off the good wishes and prayers that I received. That was the best therapy for me. There were days when I just cried and felt as if my life were over, but those days were definitely the minority. The emotional release after a good cry was tremendous and necessary-I felt so much better afterwards.

My surgeon told me that if I didn't go through with the surgery, I would have 18 - 24 months to live. Obviously, the decision was quickly made to go ahead with it. I was fortunate. I have a doctor "in the family" who recommended the oncologist that I go to, who then knew the surgeon who was willing to take a chance on me and perform the radical surgery. I wish more oncologists knew my surgeon and would pass more patients on to him. I truly feel that my team of doctors saved my life.

And here I am, in month 19 and feeling wonderful! My latest CT scan (at 18 months) was stable and there are no further signs of cancer in my body. I won't have another scan until March 2005, which is my two-year mark. It has been a long and tremendously trying time in my life. I know there are no guarantees that I will be cancer free forever, and my chances of recurrence are still quite high, but I am still here enjoying everything I have. This experience has taught me to enjoy each day and to relax a bit from the rat race of the world. Some of my girlfriends have noticed this change in me, and begin to laugh when I go into the "Gina mentality"!

I want other people to know that there is hope; all you have to do is grab onto some of it and don't let go. Try to keep focused on the proverbial "light at the end of the tunnel", and know that you have fought this battle with everything you have. There have been so many positive steps taken in recent months to advance treatments for lung cancer. As difficult as this road is (and it is the absolute pits!), keep hope alive within your heart to help pull you through.