Bone cancer story

AT 20 YEARS OLD, LIFE WAS SMOOTH SAILING. WAS A JUNIOR AT THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA AT BERKELEY, A CONFIDENT, ATHLETIC, SUCCESSFUL STUDENT. SOME EVEN CONSIDERED ME HANDSOME.

But that year, people began to suggest that something was wrong with my nose. I eventually took notice of a bump pushing against my right nostril, and when it didn't go away, I made an appointment with a doctor. He suggested a biopsy.

It turned out that I had a tumor, a rare fibrosarcoma. The bulk of it was removed during the biopsy, but I underwent surgery to excise any remaining tumor cells. Fortunately the procedure was minor, and with only a few sutures, I returned to classes looking like I had been in a fight with someone, not something.

But six months later, I discovered a new lump in the same nostril. Then my cheek began tingling. Numerous specialists confirmed that my previous, supposedly unthreatening tumor had procreated a horrific, life-threatening malignancy. Prescribing more surgery, my doctor warned that I might lose part of my nose, but his main concern was saving my life. I suppose I was too young to contemplate dying, but the notion of disfigurement was devastating.

I awoke from surgery to find that half of my nose had indeed been removed, along with half of my upper lip, muscle and bone from my right cheek, the shelf of my eye, six teeth and part of my hard palate. My doctor promised to make me `streetable' before I left the hospital. It was his way of preparing me for a life of disfigurement.

As I re-entered the real world, I noticed adults staring and children pointing--and sometimes laughing--at me. My hospital room had protected me; outside of it, I was vulnerable and exposed. Of course I cared what other people thought of me; I relished the admiring looks the old Terry had received. Now I was petrified of potential reactions to the new Terry.

During the following months, I encountered many friends whose occasional and inadvertently negative reactions left an indelible mark on me. Even worse, radiation treatments were shrinking my facial tissue, magnifying my deformity. My self-esteem sank increasingly lower, and I constantly sought reassurance from others: "Do my looks bother you?" "How could you like me?"

Five years and 20 reconstructive surgeries later, I was still plagued with insecurity. During my last procedure, I met a woman receiving treatment at my hospital. We began dating, but after hearing me ask--for the umpteenth time--how she felt about my looks, she ripped into me. The bulk of my problem, she informed me, was not my physical appearance, but my emotional insecurity. Her honesty helped me realize that my mental and emotional scars were far more disfiguring than my physical ones.

I began examining myself from the inside out and used prayer and support from loved ones to boost my spirit and self-esteem. I volunteered at The Wellness Community, a cancer support organization, and discovered that helping others is great therapy: I felt progressively better as I offered inspiration and hope to those coping with cancer. With time, my emotional pain subsided.

Altruism seemed to be the greatest form of therapy. I began to feel better about myself as I realized that I could bring tremendous inspiration and hope to those coping with cancer. Over time, the pain I felt from being an outcast subsided.

We all wrestle with insecurity. For me, it took something devastating to recognize that battle scars make people interesting and wise; trauma helps us appreciate life and prepares us for its inevitable adversities. Today I am thankful for who I am--a much stronger and wiser person than the old Terry. I remain cancer-free 16 years after treatment, and I recently published a book about my experiences. I also speak publicly on the issue to cancer-patient groups, medical and sales professionals, students and the community at large. To them, and you, I offer this message: Refrain from making judgments at face value.

Terry Healey is a sales and marketing strategy consultant who lives in the San Francisco Bay area. His book is entitled At Face Value: My Struggle With A Disfiguring Cancer.