Read on to discover how you can enter the charity raffle to win a new 2007 Corvette while benefitting Janet Kubec and Cleveland Clinic Taussig Cancer Institute's Barbara A. Leslie Patient Care Fund. This fund provides patients with financial assistance for basic living needs while they are undergoing cancer treatments.

How can a positive result be so negative?
A mother's personal journey living with an incurable cancer

By Douglas O’Bryon, Soundbite Laureate

Recently I had the opportunity to sit down with Janet Kubec, and shortly thereafter was caught up in the undertow of a life caught up in, and capsized, by a disease called cancer. What follows is not so much her story – as stories have a beginning, middle, and end – but her journey; and just as our lives are now forever intertwined, so is our narrative that follows. It is written as a diary, an intimate, soul-searching quest - reflections in search of an explanation - and the one entry she would want read when she can no longer speak for herself:

Date: The day my life changed forever

Dear Diary: Yesterday I had another treatment. It seemed like only yesterday when I could tell you exactly what number treatment I was on. These days the treatments all seem to run together, and believe me they are anything but “treats.” The Oncology nurse came to check on me because I haven’t been doing so well lately in my fight against a “triple negative.” No, not the breast cancer triple negative, but rather diabetes, hypertension, and cancer. The nurse and my caseworker spent over an hour trying to get me to follow both their medical advice and their admonition to not give up. For a person who would never do such a thing, I have to admit fighting these diseases is getting harder and harder.

It all began with simply not feeling well, perhaps because of the flu or some virus. I had my blood work done, which came back looking bad, which led to a diagnosis of diabetes and soon cancer. I remember it word for word – each sound, each pause, forever branded like a tattoo on my memory forever:

Radiologist: “I’m sorry to tell you this, but you have cancer”.
Me: “Will I live?”
Radiologist: “Yes, but you have a long hard road ahead of you.”

The long hard road started in June 2006 and was supposed to end October 2007 - but it didn’t. In December 2007, I was told that the cancer had moved from the breast area to the bone, and with that, everything changed – I was no longer curable. In a moment, I went from hopeful for a cure to hopelessly without. I’m now a member of the ‘Living with Cancer Club.’ Admission is free for all those unlucky enough to qualify for lifetime membership – the problem is, when you’re living with cancer, how long is a lifetime?

Thanks to advances in medicine, some cancer is treatable and ultimately curable. Even though many will never escape the physical and emotional scars, life has a chance to move forward. With time, everyday life can return to some degree of normalcy (working, raising children, exercising, planning vacations, and holiday celebrations), but for those like me, we search to find the smallest chance to feel normal. There are some who choose to skip treatments before a vacation just so they don’t have the side effects to complicate their travel plans. Me, I’d just like to take the summer off from treatments – maybe not the brightest idea, but I’m tired. Tired of the needles and chemicals; tired of the financial strain, and the emotional and physical pain. There’s never any closure, never any permanence, never any forgetting – I’m in the grip of a disease that just gets tighter every day.

“Living With Cancer.” It’s practically an oxymoron. I fear the pain and suffering that I will continue to endure in life, and yet leaving my family behind in death causes me even more pain. I’m realistically resigned – accepting of the cards I’ve been dealt, and challenged every minute not to envy the hand of the person next to me. Sure, I get depressed – I cry, but I also try to be happy. It’s difficult when people tell me how brave I am – bravery has nothing to do with me – I’ve feared all that I’ve been through and I’m even more afraid of dying.

I have lived in the world of cancer for the last two years and will continue until I am no more. We walk for a cure and we hurt for those who make the critical decisions for radical surgery to prevent reoccurrence, but did you know that there are people who can get treatments but choose not to, and people that just stop treatments? What most don’t realize is that while people are in treatments they aren’t working. Hence, this disease is very capable of ravaging not only your body, but also your life. Because of this disease, women have lost custody of their children, lost their jobs, are evicted from their homes, and have to pull their belongings off the street curb. There are women who cry while holding their children, knowing that they will make the ultimate sacrifice in the future, in order to keep their children safe and sound today. Some miss life-extending treatments just because they can’t afford the continued transportation to the treatment centers. The disease will win because today they need to keep a roof over the heads of themselves and their children, and I need to help these people somehow, someway, because I hate being in treatments knowing that others are telling their doctors that they are done.

A couple of weeks ago, a woman approached and asked me to purchase a hotdog and drink in support of an upcoming cancer run. I looked at her and I honestly didn’t know what to say. I wanted to say that I appreciated her efforts to help me, and many others, but a cure is not likely for me. I don’t want to be singled out at all. All I really want is to do what I can to help – help bring out of the shadows the legions of people just like me who are neither cured nor uncured.

I also want to help raise funds for the Cleveland Clinic’s Taussig Cancer Institute, which helps women financially, that are forced into making life-altering decisions every day. Ranked as one of America’s top cancer care centers, Taussig applies the latest and most effective techniques for the diagnosis and treatment of over 26,000 cancer patients each year from its location here in downtown Cleveland, and has helped me personally throughout my illness.

In addition, I want to help educate people who suddenly find themselves dealing with cancer personally, or via a family member, friend, or work associate. Having gone through this process myself, I’ve learned so much about what to do and what NOT to do when diagnosed with cancer, and I want to share this knowledge with as many people as possible. By educating patients, their families, and their entire support groups, my hope would to be help them become better prepared to deal with cancer, and to hopefully avoid some of the pitfalls and tough lessons I learned along the way. Codifying and organizing this information will better equip future patients to handle the impact that cancer has on all facets of life, thereby improving the chances of a desirable outcome.

And finally, I want to help provide for my family. I have already invested my legacy in my two children – teaching, raising, and instilling in them the skills and confidence to navigate whatever life throws at them. Now I want to do what I can to provide for their financial needs, particularly higher education, as a way to ensure they get the proper training and preparation for realizing their full potential in their chosen field.

Author’s Note: Janet’s is truly a message that resonates. Her desire is for both an Awareness of this issue, as well as an ongoing Appreciation for the support she has received throughout this process, and a greater appreciation and understanding that every moment counts. To offer your support, please visit http://www.promettere.com and participate in the Car Raffle for a 2007 Corvette, get more information here , and visit Janet’s personal blog at janetkubec.blogspot.com and mark your calendar for Fri 9/19 to participate in a Celebration Dinner in Richfield, OH benefiting the Taussig Cancer Institute and the Kubec Family Charity Fund.

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