Erin Zammett

So, getting cancer was a gift? Your life is better because of it?  People ask me these questions all the time, and they’re not easy to answer. The  day I was diagnosed with chronic myelogenous leukemia—on a sunny Tuesday after a  routine annual check-up&mdash;I thought the idea that a disease could improve your  life was just a ridiculous cancer cliché. I was 23. I had a dream job at Glamour  magazine, an awesome boyfriend and a great apartment in New York City. If  anything, CML would spoil my big plans, right? Wrong.  

As a perfectionist and to-do list addict, one of the scariest  things about cancer for me was the loss of control, not knowing what to expect  day to day. Of course, in the beginning there was a whirlwind of what-ifs,  worst-case scenarios and tears. And that was OK. But once I learned about  Gleevec, once I knew I was in good hands, I was able to regain control. For me,  being diagnosed presented an opportunity. Sure, I could go back to work, quietly  take my pills and try to forget what I was dealing with. But I didn’t want  cancer to be a P.S. in my otherwise normal life; I wanted to turn a bad  situation into something good.

A few weeks after I was diagnosed I started documenting my  experiences for Glamour. At first, sharing my story was just part of my  coping—the column gave me an outlet for both my fears and my admittedly silly  thoughts (“can I still get manicures?” I wondered)&mdash;but it evolved into so much  more. Letters started pouring in connecting me with CML patients and their  families. I began speaking publicly about my experience and together with my  family and friends raised tens of thousands of dollars for various cancer  organizations. Suddenly, I was no longer the victim. I wasn’t letting the CML  call the shots. I was out there helping others and by doing so, helping myself.  Taking action on any level&mdash;whether it’s talking to your coworkers or to Oprah,  whether it’s raising $5 or $5,000&mdash;puts you in control. And that’s a good place  to be.

Gleevec, of course, deserves a lot of the credit for making my  life livable. I’ve never had any side effects to speak of and after about nine  months on the drug, I was in complete remission. I’m lucky and I know it, which  only pushes me harder. I’m living proof that with the right treatment, it’s  possible to have cancer and have a life at the same time. There are definitely  more drugs like Gleevec out there; we just have to find them.

I never would have imagined that cancer would become such a huge  focus of my life, but I’m truly glad it is. I have an absolute mission, a  passion. Three and half years later, I can honestly say my life is better now  than it was before I was diagnosed. But it was a process, a journey—and  sometimes a struggle. In the beginning, I felt like I was failing the disease,  failing to have that newfound perspective on life that I thought came  automatically with every diagnosis. Instead of stopping to smell the roses, I’d  find myself stressing about the small stuff, like work deadlines and gaining two  pounds. But the thing no one tells you is that you can have cancer and still be  yourself&mdash;for better and worse.

Don’t get me wrong, if I could go back to  that Tuesday afternoon, I certainly would have preferred not to be diagnosed  with cancer. And I still worry about what the future may bring, but the truth  is, bad things happen to good people and sometimes you just have to accept that  and move on, adjust your plan a little, because if you let it, life with cancer  really can be a gift.

Articles

So, getting cancer was a gift? Your life is better because of it? People ask me  these questions all the time, and they’re not easy to answer.  

Erin Zammett

v4n2 - Regaining Control

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