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“Cancer is like a traffic jam on a hot August day…”
By Sheryl Eisenbarth, Special Events Architect, Gilda's Club, Seattle, WA
About the Author
 Sheryl was diagnosed with stage lllc ovarian cancer in August 1997. Due to a false negative on her CA125 blood test, it took 6 months and 5 doctors for someone to decide that the mass growing in her abdomen was indeed cancer.
She credits doctor number 5 with saving her life. Sheryl shares her home with her husband, 13-year-old daughter, 21-year-old son, 185 pound dog, 2 cats and 5 chickens. When she was in the hospital, she was given a package of seeds to see bloom the following year. She watched those flowers bloom and now her new motto is, "There's always 'thyme' for gardening." Sheryl works for Gilda's Club Seattle as the Special Events Architect and would like to cut her hours down to full time. She is also active in the Pacific Ovarian Cancer Research Consortium.
I never scheduled cancer into my Day Planner. On August 21st, 1997, I did not read "check into hospital with ovarian cancer.”
My to-do list did not say: #1 Pick up dry cleaning, #2 Buy stamps, #3 Get cancer.
I did not have time for cancer. I was 39 with two children, a dog, a cat, owned and operated my own design business, and did the bookkeeping for my husband's construction company. I had just developed a new environmentally friendly product ready to hit the market when I was hospitalized. Then gradually the cancer began to take hold of my life. I felt out of control. I no longer had the energy or desire to build businesses. I had to use every ounce of energy I had just to sustain my life.
Cancer is like a traffic jam on a hot August day. You want to get on with your life, but you creep inch by inch feeling trapped and all alone. Waiting for whatever it is that is blocking you from the rest of your life to disappear. Yelling and screaming does not make the traffic go away. You become discouraged, anxious, and tired. Then, just when you think you will be in that jam forever, the roadblock clears, the traffic begins to move a little faster and you start to feel a sense of hope. You realize that you will eventually get to where you are going, a little slower than you had anticipated and maybe on a different road, but you will get there. It's a long and lonely trip to make by yourself.
If I ever have to take that trip again, I would like to have Gilda's Club along for the ride. We could play games, sing songs, tell stories, stop for a bite to eat, and have a few laughs along the way. My kids would not be stuck in the back seat and left to fend for themselves. My husband would have a safe place to stop and ask for directions. And I would have the peace of mind knowing that it is not the destination but the journey that makes this such a wonderful life. Potholes and all.
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