Dancing in the Rain: The Story of Sue Ryan

By Xlibris US

This book is Sue Ryans recounting of her 20 year cancer experience, fighting her way through three primary cancers. She began journaling in 2010, after recovering from her third bout of cancer. She believed that writing her experiences down might be of help to others in the future. She also wrote for her own healing. When she told me she was writing her thoughts down, I told her that I had done the same thing over the years, as we went through the various bouts with cancer. She decided to incorporate my thoughts into her book, so people might learn more if they saw the journey as seen from both partners.

In January, 2012, Sues brain cancer began growing, and after a five month battle, she died quietly on May 22, 2012, surrounded by her family

And now, her legacy goes forward, helping others who may find courage and strength from reading this amazing womans 20 year fight with cancer. Hopefully, her words and the way she shares her life so openly will benefit others.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 11, 2014
• ISBN: 9781493195770

Book preview

Copyright © 2014 by Sue Ryan. 616492

ISBN: Softcover 978-1-4931-9578-7

EBook 978-1-4931-9577-0

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Rev. date: 04/07/2014

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris LLC

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

CHAPTER ONE: WHERE AM I?

CHAPTER TWO: WHAT THE HECK? AGAIN?

CHAPTER THREE: NOW WHAT?

MY FINAL THOUGHTS

Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass; it’s about learning to dance in the rain.

-Vivian Greene-

INTRODUCTION

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Sue Ryan was born Susan Mannebach in 1943, grew up in Glen Ellen, IL for a time, then moved to California for two years before returning to Downers Grove, IL. In 1965, she and her husband, Bob, married and raised two children, Bob Jr, and Colleen. Over a 20 year span, she fought cancer four different times.

After each bout with cancer, after regaining her physical health, she reached out to first fix herself psychologically, and then looked outward to see how she could use her experience to help others. She never shrank within herself. Rather, she always found a way to turn her horrible experience into something that helped others.

She started on her path of helping others in 1994, after her first cancer experience, when she became a volunteer at Wellness House in Hinsdale, a cancer support organization that had opened there a few years earlier. Eventually, her enthusiasm and infectious personality shined through, and she was asked to organize and head up the volunteer program at Wellness House.

Years later, after moving to Chicago, and fighting back a second bout with cancer in 2003, she again looked outward after healing, and found Gilda’s Club in Chicago, where she became a volunteer there. So humble, she never told them of her background at Wellness House, preferring to simply be a volunteer.

In 2009, a third bout of cancer struck. Again, after healing physically and emotionally, she looked at how she could help others, and became involved with the Brain Tumor group at Northwestern Memorial Hospital in Chicago, eventually helping to open a satellite program at Rush Memorial Hospital, also in Chicago.

This book is Sue’s recounting of her entire cancer experience. She began writing it in 2010, after recovering from her third bout of cancer. She believed that writing her experiences down might be of help to others in the future. She also wrote for her own healing. When she told me she was writing her thoughts down, I told her that I had done the same thing over the years, as we went through the various bouts with cancer. She decided to incorporate my thoughts into her book, so people might learn more if they saw the journey as seen from both partners. The result is that each section of the book has both or our perspectives.

In January, 2012, Sue’s brain cancer began growing again, this time with a vengeance. The treatments were just as aggressive, combining, chemotherapy, radiation therapy, and a trial program at Northwestern Memorial Hospital. After fighting cancer again for over four months, her body’s defenses were so debilitated that she wasn’t able to fight off the least sort of infection. After two viral infections over a two month period, her body could no longer fight back, and she died quietly on May 22, 2012, surrounded by her husband, her son, Bob Jr, and her daughter, Colleen

And now, her legacy goes forward, helping untold others who may find courage and strength from reading this amazing woman’s 20 year fight with cancer. I am humbled every day that I was able to share her life for 46 years. Hopefully, her words and the way she shares her life so openly will benefit others.

Bob Ryan

March 20, 2014

Chapter One

WHERE AM I?

It was 1992.

Bob, my husband, and I were on vacation. Our first cruise. We cruised the Caribbean Seas with Dean and Ann Hittle and another couple. We have known each other a long time; Dean and Bob were fraternity brothers.

It was a chilly, drizzly fall in Chicago. Here on the ship, it was warm, clear blue skies and you could feel the heat of the sun on your face. The waters were a beautiful shade of blue, like a sapphire jewel, and very calm. It was ideal. We could shed our coats, our boots, our scarves. What bliss to feel this warmth.

We lived in shorts and swimsuits. That is when I noticed a small lump on my mid thigh. I had started working out with weights for the first time a while ago. I said, Look Bob, I’m getting a muscle. Bob said, That’s not a muscle. Well, I thought, I guess I’ll have to check that out when we get back.

I made that appointment; I try to be diligent about my health. My doctor said it was just a cyst. Not to worry. So I didn’t; instead, I went back to life. My family was coming into town, so I had to get the house in order and plan for Thanksgiving. Just to add to the stress, I wanted to remodel the bathroom. Bob said, What’s the matter with it, it looks fine to me (Men, they just can’t seem to see the real need.) Naturally, we went ahead with the remodeling, and fortunately, it was finished just in time.

After Thanksgiving, I decided to decorate the house for Christmas. I imagined the house to look beautiful with a Christmas background. So much stress, but well worth it.

Thanksgiving happens to be my favorite holiday. I think it’s so meaningful, truly a time to give thanks, be with family, and enjoy each other. There is nothing of the hustle, bustle of Christmas. Christmas has too much pressure for me. The real meaning of Christmas gets pushed aside. We’re too busy shopping for stuff that no one really wants, but it has to look good to have presents under the tree.

I was starting to notice a change in the lump on my thigh, but there was no time to worry about my health – besides, the doctor said it’s just a cyst. Why worry about a little bump?

Suddenly, it was near the end of the year when my accounting duties for our company became a big uphill chore. I had to attend to the year-end details. Make up for the many hours that I had spent planning for Thanksgiving. Oh, so busy. I continued to put my lump on hold. It’s just a cyst

I noticed more changes in the ‘cyst’; it seemed to be a little bigger. I thought I would wait until after Christmas. That stress would be over; my year-end accounting would almost be under control.

1993

I made that appointment right after the New Year. Again I was told that it was just a cyst – but I thought it was changing shape, growing somewhat. Well, if it bothers you, I can give you a name of a surgeon. She thought I was concerned for vanity reasons. Please !

I met with the surgeon and we came up with a date to excise this ‘cyst’. I wanted the procedure on a Saturday, so I wouldn’t miss any more time at work. About two weeks later, the procedure was to be done. When I arrived, the surgeon said, Has that grown in just two weeks? Hmm.

The lump was removed. It only took about 30 minutes, and then Bob & I went home. No problem with my leg, no pain and we continued on with our busy schedule.

About a week later, I received a call from the surgeon’s office. Could you come in today? The doctor wants to talk to you. Always thinking about work, I asked her how late we could come to the office. I quietly walked into Bob’s office and told him that the doctor wants us to come to her office and talk. Bob said, what about? What do you think she has to say? Oh, I don’t know, but I don’t think it could be good"

At the end of the day, we drove to see the doctor. When we finally sat down with the doctor, I heard three little words you never want to hear. You have cancer. The lump is malignant. Is this the same lump that was always called a cyst?!

I could hardly breathe. I looked at my husband and said Oh my God, it’s my turn I remember the doctor recoiled at my statement , but with so many people around me being told those same dreaded words, that’s the way I felt.

After those words were spoken, I felt as if I was underwater. I couldn’t hear any of the words she said, just noise coming from her mouth – The doctor was talking to my husband; like I wasn’t even in the room. I wanted to scream, I am the patient – this is all happening to me! I did hear the words sarcoma…need to remove a muscle….this is rare, we don’t see this in a suburban hospital…need to go to a university hospital. And then I walked out. I couldn’t hear anymore. No one was talking to me anyway.

I ran out to the parking lot to wait for Bob. He was getting the information we would need. Waiting, I felt I was socked in the gut, hit by a Mac Truck, just trying to catch my breath. Breathe, breathe, I told myself.

Bob finally came out to the parking lot where we clung to each other, not wanting to let go, not believing something this horrible was happening to us. We were feeling all the emotions that every person feels when they learn they have cancer. We weren’t unique. We didn’t know that then, but we do now. We felt fear, terror, anxiety. We were facing our own mortality head on. Our world stopped. Our safe little world has now turned upside down. Where are we? I don’t think we are in Kansas anymore.

As time went on, I could go along for awhile, not thinking about my situation, when POW, I would be socked in the gut again, and again. Each time, I felt that rush of adrenalin, like I just heard those three words, You have cancer, for the first time. I just couldn’t believe this was happening, I have cancer! My world was reeling out of control. Spinning, spinning… I have to hang on; this is the only way I’ll make it.

I remember Bob & me talking in the bedroom. I told him that I was not afraid to die; I was afraid of the process. How much pain will there be? How would this happen? It was all too ugly to think about. You always think that the word cancer means death, right? But I was going to beat this.

It was difficult telling our young adult children. Fortunately, Bob did that for me. Our son seemed to take it pretty well, but he’s not one to express his feelings. Our daughter rushed to me, crying and said, I don’t want you to die. I told her that I wasn’t planning on going anywhere. Not to worry.

Humf! Not to worry. That’s like telling Colleen not to breathe. The breath was already being sucked out of us. We all carried on even though there was this elephant in the room. No one really wanted to discuss this. It would make it all too real. And as afraid as I was, I didn’t want