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Moser: As 2013 Leaves, Here’s to Hoping Cancer Doesn’t Return

By Connie Moser December 29, 2013 8:00 am



Have you ever said, “Whew! I’m glad this year is over?” I think that phrase has been uttered by most adults at one time or another. After a string of bad luck, medical crisis or financial meltdown, maybe you were relieved when that hateful year ended. Perhaps you lost a friend or a family member or maybe one of your parents died and you consider that whole year as a devastating loss in your own “Book of Life.”

I imagine you have also experienced wonderful years, filled with promotions and great grades, maybe a wedding or the birth of a new baby. That’s when you look forward to another year and hopes of more of the same grand events.

There are probably some years (more likely if you are middle age or past) that are not really memorable at all. Nothing spectacular occurred to fix that year in your mind good or bad enough to designate a year described as “good” or “bad”.

I have had cancer twice, but both times the treatment was excision, so was spared the more horrible treatment methods used to combat the disease.

One thing cancer breeds is the dread the disease will return. We survivors are continually beset by the knowledge we were lucky once or twice, but maybe three times is too many.

When my mammogram came back last month with “inconclusive results,” I was asked to reschedule for another look. That mammogram showed a “shadow” and the lab requested I return yet again for a sonogram.

As I sat in the cubicle, waiting for results, I remembered being in that dressing room before. There are many curtained “closets” for women to change from their street clothes to a gown, then wait for a technician to bring them the news. I recall hearing women sobbing and the out of control sensation that your entire life is suddenly in the hands of some unknown, unseen force.

After an interminable wait, I had the sonogram and the technician was able to see the “shadow”. It is a cyst, not a tumor and my relief was nearly embarrassing. I hugged this woman, whom I’d only just met and thanked her for her effort.

She was nearly in tears, too, as she said, “Last month, I told my husband I was thinking I should retire. I began this position as an x-ray technician and migrated to sonogram when they were first put to use in cancer detection. In November, nearly every procedure I administered showed cancer. I got into this field because I wanted to help, but I seldom have any good news to report.”

 I went back, got dressed and as I stepped out, I was eager to get the heck out of there, but there was a young woman, seated in the “holding pen” quietly weeping. I sat down to ask her and she told me “I’ve had cancer once….”

Please take a few minutes to watch this video. I shared it with a friend who faced his own struggle with cancer, but it applies to all of us.

  • http://alborn.net Alan P. Alborn

    “Now” would be a good time to watch the video. Thanks for sharing Connie.

    • http://www.neabscoactionalliance.org Connie Moser

      Thanks, Al!

  • http://wdgolden.com Bill Golden

    Thanks for sharing this video. It is indeed worthy of five minutes of time to view, to think, to reflect.

    Good to hear that your shadow was not cancer.

    Life happens. Challenges arise.

    • http://www.neabscoactionalliance.org Connie Moser

      Thanks, Bill! You are my own personal hero!

  • Susan Svihlik

    Thanks, Connie, for writing this and posting the video. While my own cancer likely will not go away and cannot be excised, it is in a holding pattern right now, giving me a chance to reflect on NOW. Thanks and prayers for your continued good news.

    • http://www.neabscoactionalliance.org Connie Moser

      Susan, I wish you all the best…and enjoy every minute!

      Thank you so much for reading. It means a lot to me.

  • http://johngraycpacom John S Gray CPA

    Connie: It takes a huge amount of courage to publicly disclose ones own cancer. It runs in my family, literally. Three of my siblings have had cancer, one having had both brain and lung, another having kidney and then my younger brother (52 years old) passing in May of this year from Pancreatic cancer after a one-month “battle”. You’re a dear, sweet friend as is Bill and Al. Susan, sorry to read of your occurrence and I wish you well also.

    • http://neabscoactionalliance.org connie

      Thank you my friend, John. I wish you and your family a very Happy New Year and good health to all of us. I think we can face what life throws at us as long as there is a break in between to rejuvenate our courage and recover from previous losses.

  • http://www.nancyskyme.com Nancy S Kyme

    What a relief. Thank you for a beautifully written article and for reminding us all what is really important. I too have hugged a few techs I’d just met. Here’s to a healthy and prosperous 2014.

    • http://neabscoactionalliance.org connie

      Thank you Nancy! Wishing you all the same.

  • Captain George S. Harris USN (Ret)

    First of all–Thank you Connie for sharing your own cancer story–you are a brave soul. I have been there several times in my family, including breast cancer in my wife and numerous family members.

    Sam Harris’, Now” becomes more important as time goes by. At 8+ decades, I am constantly reminded of, “Now”.

    Thank you again for being you and being you Now.

    • http://neabscoactionalliance.org connie

      You are very kind, George. Cancer affects us all, stealing years and love from us far sooner than an ordinary life should span.

      Nearly everyone I know has had cancer or has someone close to them who has or had cancer.

      If we all could work together, cooperatively, and leave politics by the side of the road we would demand our government find our what is causing all of us to become susceptible to cancer. We don’t need a cure…we need prevention.