...
By Terry Healey
0
Share
Newsweek is a Trust Project member
See more of our trusted coverage when you search.Prefer Newsweek on Googleto see more of our trusted coverage when you search.
At 21 years old, I thought I had the world by the tail. Good things had come my way—academic and athletic accomplishments, serving as my college fraternity president, accolades, girlfriends and most importantly, strong relationships that I could count on. I was looking forward to graduating from the University of California, Berkeley, and starting a career. I had no problems with self-confidence and self-esteem. I guess you could say that I was taking life for granted. I was invincible, right?
Out of nowhere, my world turned upside down. A bump formed under my right nostril, pushing it slightly outward. I didn’t even notice it. My roommate John, and then my oldest brother, Steve, were the first to ask me about it, but I dismissed their concerns. Then I saw a picture and did a double take. Something about my nose wasn’t right. I finally went to a doctor. He smiled at me after a brief examination and, trying to be kind, suggested it was likely only a pimple. The treatment: hot compresses and Drixoral.
Three weeks later I was back in his office. Eventually I was diagnosed with a rare fibrosarcoma in my right maxillary area, which was pushing up against my nose. I was referred to an otolaryngologist at the University of California San Francisco. Shocked by the rare diagnosis, my doctor calmed me down by indicating that my cancer had been caught in the early stages, and though it could be disfiguring and life-threatening if it recurred, that was not likely.
Read More on My Turn
My Husband Froze His Eggs Before He Transitioned. Now I’m Having His Baby6 min read
I Was Single at 37 and Had Given Up on Love—One Message Changed Everything10 min read
I Thought Going Gray Meant I’d Stopped Caring about My Looks. Then the Compliments Started6 min read
...
My life on easy street was suddenly littered with detours. Surgery was scheduled right away, and not only was facial disfigurement discussed, but losing my right eye was also a possibility.
When I woke up from that first surgery, I didn’t ask for a mirror. I knew it would be too much to handle. I took a deep breath, my mind racing with questions, and waited until my doctor arrived to provide a post-surgery report. I had significant facial disfigurement, but my doctor was confident they could cure me and eventually get me reconstructed back to the “old Terry.” His words were all I needed to remain hopeful at the time. His confidence was unwavering.
But my world had been turned upside down. The cancer hadn’t been entirely removed, so more surgery followed. Half my nose was removed, along with much of my cheek and part of my upper lip. Finally, I was told my margins were clean. Being released from the hospital was eye-opening. Inside of my hospital room, I was protected and insulated, but outside of it I was vulnerable and exposed. Stares from passersby would become a regular occurrence, and finger pointing from curious children whispering to their parents became a reminder that something was terribly wrong with me. I even noticed a group of young boys and girls in the hospital waiting room area giggling at me. And that happened more than once.
Radiation therapy followed and finally, I could begin to rebuild my face. The results of my reconstruction were underwhelming at best. Two steps back for every step forward. I was spiraling down quickly as I realized that getting back to my former self was going to be far more difficult than I first expected.
...
For the first time in my life, my self-esteem plummeted, and I began to doubt myself. I sank to my lowest point four years into my ordeal when, after six reconstructive procedures to make my nose symmetrical again, it was clear that the right side of my nose was all tissue and very little nostril.
A light bulb came on when I finally realized that surgery was never going to fix my insecurities. Even if the surgery appeared successful, I knew I was always going to be my own worst critic. I would notice the imperfections more than anyone else. I probably would never really be satisfied with the results. I had to find a way to rebuild myself from the inside out and find a way to love myself again, for who I was and not for what I looked like.
My religious faith was strong. It gave me the courage and strength to power through and to keep hope. I was coming to terms with the fact that I would never recover my old identity, but I prayed I would be able to transform myself and somehow find purpose out of my adversity.
I was blessed to have a wonderful and supportive family, and great friends who were caring, nurturing, committed and full of positive energy.
I became incredibly focused and began to set goals to address my most pressing challenge: my loss in confidence. I began over-preparing for every meeting and presentation. I anticipated every possible objection. It paid off. My marketing career blossomed. I worked hard, and I found that people trusted my recommendations. I became a vice president of marketing at 30 years old.
I found a way to return to the old Terry in one way by achieving new milestones. I began to believe in myself again.
...
I still had so much to be grateful for. Saving my right eye was one reason, but there were a million more. I chose to be positive and pushed aside any negative self-talk. I knew there was always an inverse to any negative thought.
Group therapy became instrumental in helping me find the courage to share my vulnerabilities with others, and that was liberating. I learned about positive imaging and visualization and found that these exercises not only calmed me and put me at ease, but they began to make me feel better about who I was. My visualization exercises showed me a future filled with personal and professional success. I reminded myself to celebrate each new win in my life.
When I began to feel content with who I was as a person once again, I realized I had transformed myself into someone I was prouder of because of the wisdom I felt I gained along the way. After a while, I noticed that no one seemed to stare or point at me, or giggle in my direction anymore. I guess when you carry yourself with confidence, people don’t notice the little things about us.
Decades later, my purpose is to help others navigate challenges and roadblocks in their own lives. Gratitude, perspective and empathy are the gifts that came out of my ordeal. I wouldn’t trade my experience for anything. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone either. But now I know that my battle scars provided me with the wisdom to help others find ways to make their own adversities a little more manageable, so they can celebrate their wins each time they reach the other side.
Terry Healey is a speaker and author, most recently, of The Resilience Mindset: How Adversity Can Strengthen Individuals, Teams, and Leaders*. For more information visit http://www.terryhealey.com.*
All views expressed in this article are the author's own.
Do you have a personal essay you want to share with Newsweek? Send your story to MyTurn@newsweek.com.
View 0 Comments
Submit Correction
View Editorial & AI Guidelines