0 0 0 8 The Statement // Wednesday, September 22, 2010 - PERSONALSTATEMENT FOUR DAYS WITH CANCER BY STEPHANIE STEINBERG 'm sorry, we found cancer." Those were the first words I heard while waking up from a five-hour anesthesia-induced coma. For all you medical students, please make sure your patient is in a coherent state of mind before telling her that life as she knows it is over. At least, that's what I thought. In August, I was diagnosed with a brain tumor. The only reason doctors caught it was because I woke up one morning in May without a voice. For almost two weeks I couldn't utter a sound. This conveniently occurred at the beginning of my summer intern- ship at USA Today, so I spent my first two weeks in Washington D.C. run- ning from doctor to doctor trying to figure out why I couldn't talk. Eventually my voice came back, but barely. I could only speak slightly above a whisper. The D.C. doctors diagnosed me with vocal cord pare- sis - a condition where the vocal cord stops vibrating, making it next to impossible to talk. The doctors assured me these things just happen, that my voice would come back in a few weeks, worst-case scenario a couple months. It was difficult, but I continued my internship and tried to make the CREATIVE ARTS From Page 5 - including weekly discussion, small group meetings and journals - the outcome differs based on the students within the class. "We were there to be laying out our ideas and our opinions and our ques- tions and we couldn't look to Buzz for all of the answers and we had to look to tach other. And that's what I think life is like, you don't have someone stand- ing in front of you all the time telling you, 'This is what it is and here is the answer.'You have to learn to utilize the people that are sharing experiences that you have. And I think that's what he taught us was to work together, to try and answer some of our questions and to continue to converse with each other even after the class had ended," Friedman said of Buzz's facilitative teachingstyle. best out of the situation. Interviewing sources over the phone was a night- mare, as half the time the interviewee couldn't hear my questions, and my opportunity to hold an in-person inter- view with Sally Ride - the first Ameri- can woman in space - was dampened by the fact that I had to abstain from small talk in order to conserve my voice for questions. There went my chance to find out how astronauts pee in space. While it's difficult for anyone deal- ing with losing his or her voice - it's impossible to do simple things typi- cally taken for granted, like order food in a loud restaurant or chat with people at parties - not being able to speak is particularly difficult for a journalist. One USA Today reporter told me that if he ever got around to writing a parody of the newsroom, the voiceless intern (me) would certainly be included. Fast-forward to the end of sum- mer: I'm at the University of Michigan Hospital sliding through CT scans and MRIs. After coming home to Michi- gan, I saw a University doctor who specializes in voice disorders. The plan was to get vocal cord injections to help me recover my voice before classes started. But prior to the procedure, the doctor ordered a CT scan because he Buzz is nearly ten years past retire- ment age. He knows that he'll eventual- ly need tostep down and give the PCAP reigns to someone else. But right now he's not distracted with talk of that, he has too much to do - between the three classes he teaches, weekly meetings with PCAP members and executives, organizing the annual prisoners' art show and promoting his recently pub- lished memoir, "Is William Martinez Not Our Brother? Twenty Years of the Prison Creative Arts Project." There will come a day when Buzz will no longer be teaching English classes every week, when he won't meet with students and prisoners on a weekly basis, when he will be able to enjoy the benefits of retirement. "Maybe that day will come," Buzz jokes. "Maybe." But he hasn't reached that point yet. He continually reshapes the definition heard my dad say this was the worst time in his life. If this was hard on my family, no one besides cancer patients themselves can imagine what went through my mind - both physically and mentally. For the biopsy, the surgeon cut behind my left ear, which caused temporary hearing loss followed by a magnified sense of sound in that had a hunch I had more than a para- ear. Clunking pots and pans, drawers lyzed vocal cord. banging shut and clinking silverware His hunch was correct. As it turns sounded like bombs dropping in my out, I have a tumor pressing down on ears. Even the sound of tearing tin the nerve that connects to the vocal foil made me cringe. Now, add my two cords. Doctors couldn't tell if it was barking dogs and my squawking parrot benign or malignant based on the to the mix, and it was almost too much scans, so I had a biopsy done to find to bear. Although the o exeruciating noise "I was too stunned to know how was difficult to to react. Yesterday I had cancer. handle, the men- tal agony was far Today I didn't." worse. As I lay in bed recovering from the biopsy I out. The results sent an unpleasant thought of all the things I haven't done ripple through my family and friends. and places I've never gone. Would I It was cancer. ever get to go skydiving? What about I found out that until something becoming a famous journalist? Would tragic happens, you don't truly know I even live long enough to get married how many people care about you. Once or have children? word got around that I had cancer, Four days after being diagnosed cards, texts and Facebook messages with cancer and mulling over my past, flooded me with support, prayers and present and future, my dad received a love. call from my surgeon, who immedi- The pain and misery my family ately asked to be put on speakerphone. experienced can't be described with "Remember I told you after the sur- words. No parent wants to hear his gery that there is a small ray of hope?" or her child has cancer and may have he asked in a strangely positive voice. to undergo chemotherapy, radiation "Well, Ijust got the official report, and or brain surgery. At one point, I over- it's not cancer." The response: My mom burst out in tears, my dad was all smiles and I was too stunned to know how to react. Yes- terday I had cancer. TodayI didn't. I'm not angry with my doctors for the misdiagnosis and all the grief they. caused, putting my family and friends on a roller coaster of emotions. In real- ity, I'm just thankful they were wrong. Two weeks ago I was planning to drop out of school, resign from my edi- tor position at The Michigan Daily and fly around the country to seek treat- ment at cancer centers. Tonight, I'm writing this from my bedroom over- looking State Street, listening to cars and ambulances whiz by and my four roommates yell at the characters on Degrassi late night reruns. Even though life is now back to "normal," I still don't know what's in store for me down the road. Doctors injected me with collagen shots to bring my voice back, but their effects wear off after only three to six months, and I dread the day when I will again wake up without a voice. Aside from this, I still have many deci- sions to make about potential proce- dures to have, one of which could leave me unable to hear and swallow prop- erly. When it comes down to it, I have two choices: let this thing keep grow- ing inside my head -or go under the knife and prayI can still swallow when I wake up. And to think, I once thought choos- ing which classes to take was difficult. - Stephanie Steinberg is an LSA junior and a senior news editor at The Michigan Daily. of what it means to risk further and by doing so has engaged the University in one of the most compassionate and reflective opportunities available to students. For Delezica, PCAP provided a cre- ative space that allowed him to retrieve himself. It instilled in him the impor- tance of contribution to others and within 10days ofhis releasefromprison he was doing just that in his community. Recently, he has connected a local organization with Sherwin Williams paint. The outreach project refurbish- es homes for the homeless and with Delezica's help, it's able to paint every single one of those new houses. "It makes places look better, it makes people feel better about where they live and it helps to raise their whole entire consciousness," Delezica says. "You'd be amazed what paint on a house can do for people." And for others, paint on a canvas. Prof. William Buzz Alexander, director of the Prison Creative Arts Project. Buzz came to the University in 1971 to teach. Nineteen years later he started PCAP. (Jed Moch/Daily)