Life Lesson #5: What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

It’s such a cliché saying, but it’s true. For the most part, life’s complications mess you up a little, but everyone gets back on track. For my last guest blog entry, I want to share with you my thoughts and feelings of the exact moment I was diagnosed. What doesn’t kill you does make you stronger. I am living proof. I’m a stronger person than I was before – not just because of cancer. I’m a stronger person because all of the friends and family I had behind me helping me fight. I’m a stronger person because I had the will to carry on after receiving the worst news I could have imagined. We will all make it through our worst experiences in life. All you have to do is keep calm and carry on. I will leave you with an excerpt from my memoir, ‘Would You Like Your Cancer?’

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…He looked at me, "Well Megan, I have some good news and I have some bad news, which would you like first?"

I thought to myself or a few seconds. Who gives the option of bad news or good news? I let out a short sigh, disappointed that there was any bad news at all. I had the selection of two options; with the outcome being I would hear both good and bad news no matter which ‘option’ I chose first.

I didn't know what to say, considering the bad news could have been something unimaginable and the good news; well, I expect the only good news anyone ever hears in a doctor's office is that they’re going to live. He took my silence as the go ahead for the bad news.

Time seemed to slow, almost to a complete stop. The air was very still. The noise coming from the air conditioning unit in the office seemed to fade away and the silence was so incredibly loud.

I was nauseous. I could vaguely hear voices through the walls and indistinct footsteps walking past the door. I kept thinking maybe he was confused and had my files mixed up with some other person's medical files. Perhaps he was in the wrong room. Perhaps there was another girl who was awaiting the results of her fine needle aspiration biopsy. I had no such luck.

"You have cancer."

I replayed his words over and over…and over. I looked straight ahead and saw nothing; the room was a blur of colour. I felt faint. It was the most dreamlike feeling. In that moment I was so aware of everything I was doing; it was as if I could only blink in slow motion. It was beyond surreal. My heart sank. I could hear my unsteady breathing. I could feel my chest as if it was rising a mile each time I took a breath. If the doctor continued to speak, I heard nothing. I was completely and utterly numb.

I felt my heart beat pound in my ears and I felt the blood drain from my face. The tears came and I could not stop them.

I looked intently at the faces of my parents. Both seemed to be in disbelief. I wish I could have known what they were both thinking at that very moment. I’m sure no parent ever wants to be told that their seventeen year old daughter has cancer.

I looked out the window into the brilliant sun. The clouds seemed to move at lightning speed, the earth turning unsteadily as my world shattered around me. My life came to a screeching halt.

I heard the doctor, but his words were so far away, “The good news is, you're going to live, you only have thyroid cancer."

Only. That’s a sharp statement if I ever heard one. If you only have five pieces of candy left, you still have candy. That was the point. I had thyroid cancer. I really had cancer.

I felt very alone.

My father looked out the window in trepidation.

My mother was crying.

I will never forget the moment I was diagnosed with cancer. It was one of the defining moments of my life.