September 11

I am watching the replay of the events of seven years ago on the television this morning. The emotions that well up inside are almost more than I can handle. I am crying as I watch the replay of World Trade Center Towers being hit by the two planes, and then collapsing in clouds of smoke. I think about those people who were in the towers that morning, and the utter terror they must have been experiencing, at least those who survived the initial hit and fireball. I also cry for the firemen, policemen, and other rescue workers who risked their lives to try to save their neighbors. It is so emotional to me that I find it difficult to concentrate on the work I need to be doing this morning.

It was very different for me on September 11, 2001. It was the events of this day that initiated a turning point in my life and made me face my own inner terrors.

I had finished radiation therapy for breast cancer in June, 2001. I thought I had a great attitude toward my state of being, and felt optimistic about the future. However, I was taking Tamoxifen, in hopes that it would lessen my chance of getting cancer again. The Tamoxifen was giving me a variety of side effects, which I found hard to deal with. As a consequence, my oncologist prescribed two additional medications – an anti-depressant and a blood pressure pill. These two were supposed to help with the constant hot flashes and cold sweats that the Tamoxifen was causing. I was medicated to the hilt, and didn’t realize until September 11 what these were doing to me.

I heard talk in the hallway at TAPPI that morning, where I was working at the time, and caught the gist of the conversation – some planes were missing somewhere in the air in the Northeast, and nobody knew where they were. Hmmm. This sounded a little weird to me, but no concern. A little later, there was a scream down the hall that I stepped out of my office to investigate. We were all herded into the conference room where the television was now showing a smoking building on the screen. I quickly learned that one of the missing planes had hit the World Trade Center in New York City. How terrible, I thought, but I didn’t comprehend the tragedy. I went back to my office, where my phone was ringing. It was Brian, who lives in New York, reassuring me that he was o.k. I still was in a kind of fog. I was happy to talk to him, but nothing sunk in deeper than the surface. As the morning progressed, I traveled back and forth from office to conference room to see what was happening, soon learned about the three attacks, and watched the television coverage. I thought about my nephew, Gary, who worked at the Pentagon, and called Molly to see if she had heard anything. I was relieved to hear that Gary was o.k., but throughout this entire morning, I felt no emotion whatsoever beyond curiosity and a feeling that something bad had happened.

We were sent home early from work that day. When I got home, Phil was already there, visibly shaken by the events of the day. He could hardly talk about it without starting to cry. I had no tears in my eyes, and could not make myself feel sad. I knew something was wrong with me.

A couple of days later, while talking to a co-worker, I realized that it was my medication that had taken away all feelings of that terrible day. I began thinking about my personal situation, and realized that I didn’t want to go through life this way. I quit taking my three medications, cold turkey, called my oncologist, and made an appointment to see him. I knew that the threat of cancer was something I was going to have to live with for the rest of my life, but September 11 helped me realize that life is more than just trying to avoid cancer. I had to have my emotions back, I had to feel again! Even if some of my feelings were fear and anxiety, then they were feelings I had to confront and overcome. I told my oncologist that the quality of my life was much more important to me than the false reassurance of the medications, and he accepted my decision, although reluctantly.

It is now seven years later. I can now cry over September 11, and I live a full and highly emotional life. Hot flashes and cold sweats are my occasional companions these days, but I have learned to accept them as proof that I am still alive! My outlook on life is different, and I no longer fear cancer as I did seven years ago. If it makes a reappearance in my life, I’ll deal with it as it comes. I am not going to let the fear of possible cancer somewhere in my future stop me from living.