 Cecilia Vettraino Strine 

(modeled after poet Shel Silverstein's poem: Whatif)

Yesterday, while I sat thinking here,
some Whatifs crept inside my ear
and danced and whirled all day long
and chanted their constant Whatif song:


Whatif the cancer was discovered too late?
Whatif other malevolent, malignant cells await?
Whatif the weekly radiation makes me want to give up?

Whatif my worry and anxiety will not ever let up?
Whatif during the treatments I get really sick?

Whatif the side effects appear really quick?
Whatif there are alarming results from the latest test?
Whatif my fear causes dreadful pains in my chest?
Whatif my friends are unsure how to support me?
Whatif I feel like an abandoned ship out to sea?
Whatif the weeks of radiation are not effective?
Whatif I’m asked to create an advanced directive?
Whatif I cannot get the rest I need at night?
Whatif the end of the tunnel really has no light?
Whatif the feelings of being in limbo won’t end?
Whatif my weakened body is unable to mend?

Whatif these grim thoughts can be turned around?

Whatif a new and positive attitude can be found?

Whatif I remember to lean on my faith in God?
Whatif I depend more on my special prayer squad?
Whatif my contemplations stop being just negative?
Whatif I embrace hope that arrives ever so tentative?

Whatif my days are not filled with depression and dread?

Whatif the focus becomes one of a decisive victory ahead?

Whatif I find someone extraordinary to mentor me?

Whatif a survivor angel could answer my plea?

Whatif the emotional stress I feel can be shared?

Whatif I found someone with cancer experience who cared?

Whatif someday this was all no longer distressing?

Whatif this journey was really… an ugly blessing?

I’ll find that I have learned many remarkable lessons

To help me deal with any future worrisome Whatif sessions!

This post was written and submitted by Cec Vettraino Strine. The article reflects the views of Vettraino Strine and not of CURE®. This is also not supposed to be intended as medical advice.

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Of all the bad whatifs about cancer that creep into my ear, what if I turned them into positive whatifs?

Whatif: The Bad and the Good of Cancer

I was diagnosed with epithelial myoepithelial carcinoma (a very rare malignancy of salivary tumors) of my right parotid gland (a salivary gland that sits just in front of the ears) in my neck after I accidentally (fortuitously??) found the lump while in the shower in 2007. A CT scan quickly followed, and, after the definitive report of a solid mass, I was scheduled for surgery. A biopsy did not precede the surgical resection of that part of my neck since, even if the mass had been benign, they tend to grow and become disfiguring.

This “adventure” went from 0 to 60 in short order.

A true blessing in this story is that the surgeon to whom I was referred was board certified in plastic surgery. The nature of what was done to remove the mass while trying to preserve nerves in my face and cheek was very complex, yet it was done with masterful skill that has left no visible scars or debilitating damage.

The scars that followed were mostly internal – from seven weeks of Monday-through-Friday radiation. The margins were so close to my jawbone that this next sequence of treatment was high priority to be sure that the cancerous cells were all eradicated. There is no need to go into the details of what the traumatic side effects of those seven weeks were. As a patient, I quickly learned the stark facts about what the journey may be like, both during and after treatment. Thankfully, I was able to “dig deep” into a reserve of strength I never knew I had before. This revelation has proven helpful many times over since then!

“There is a reason why your windshield is bigger than your rearview mirror. Where you're headed is much more important than what you left behind.” 

The good news is that I am still here! The significant lifetime priorities are to keep my mouth well hydrated, my dental hygiene first rate and treat those taste buds that miraculously came back to life after a three-month hiatus, with care.

My mindset is based on a great sense of gratitude. There's a saying: “There is a reason why your windshield is bigger than your rearview mirror. Where you're headed is much more important than what you left behind.” Now when I am feeling anxious about unexpected curves in the road of life, I think about that message. If we see with an open mind, the view ahead — the outlook — is rife with promise.

The vision of what’s behind is part of the tapestry that makes us who we are today.

I was diagnosed with a rare cancer in 2007, and it shaped who I am today.  

After Cancer, I Focus on the View Ahead

In August of 2007, I was diagnosed with epithelial myoepithelial cancer in the right parotid gland in my neck. It came as quite a shock on many levels, especially since salivary gland cancers are extremely rare. In the U.S., they make up less than 1% of all cancers diagnosed each year.

However, I was fortunate that the tumor I’d felt was in an early stage and I had the gift of an amazing surgeon and, later, radiation oncologist.

Seven weeks of Monday-through-Friday radiation took a toll on my body. I lost 25 pounds because horrific sores in my mouth made it extremely difficult to even swallow the nutritious smoothies my husband, Steve, made for me.

I regained my taste buds after three months and my weight began to return to normal. Joy of joys, I went back to work, and was loving my time teaching early elementary children to read. I was able to complete a 40-year career as an educator before retiring in 2013.

Fast forward to Dec. 31, 2022, the 15th anniversary of the day that Steve and I, together, rang the bell at the radiation oncology center, marking the end of my treatment. It was an arduous, painful journey that took a lot out of me physically, emotionally, and, sometimes, spiritually.

There were many lessons learned, some easier than others, over the course of my diagnosis, treatment and recovery. However, two stand out.

I read a quote once by Christine Cain, “When you are in a dark place, you sometimes tend to think you’ve been buried. Perhaps you’ve been planted. Bloom.”

That rings true for me. During my journey, I discovered the cancer support group, Imerman Angels, an organization that matches fighters with survivors of the same or similar cancer as well as former caregivers with current caregivers. My mentor angel, Tim, was a true angel sent from on high. He listened, he supported, he shared strategies he’d used to deal with extreme dryness and lesions in the mouth, nausea, etc. He also was able to normalize my roller-coaster emotions having experienced most of them himself.

At the time of our introduction, Tim was a survivor in the double digits (I can’t remember exactly anymore) and that fact alone was a beacon of light, leading me more confidently on the road to my own recovery.

It turns out that I had only been temporarily “buried.” I“bloomed” into a new chapter as an Imerman Angel mentor myself, paying forward the gift of a listening ear provided by someone who has been "there." This is a bond that surpasses many other relationships and is a priceless blessing.

A young man I came to know through his cancer blog was Miles Levin. He succumbed to a rare form of pediatric cancer, but his insights and observations during his journey were amazing, especially since he was still in high school when diagnosed.

Miles called cancer “an ugly blessing.” Indeed. I wish I’d known that during my own ugly part of the experience. Nonetheless, the last 15 years have been filled with blessings that are even more precious and cherished precisely because I’d walked in the fire, leaving me with an amazing new perspective on life and living. I’m still here, healthy, living a full life with my husband and extended family and friends, some of whom I’d never have met, if it not for mytime in a dark place.


This post was written and submitted by Cecilia Vettraino Strine. The article reflects the views of Cecilia Vettraino Strine and not of CURE®. This is also not supposed to be intended as medical advice.

After being diagnosed with a rare cancer, I met some amazing people and have a new appreciation for life.  

Cecilia Vettraino Strine

Whatif: The Bad and the Good of Cancer

After Cancer, I Focus on the View Ahead

'Ugly Blessings’ and Blooming From Cancer’s Lessons

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