Skip to main content.
Returning member? Please Login
Navigation:
My Profile My Mail My Experiences My Goals My Stories My Circle My Recommendations
Log In Register
Stories Home Popular Today Search Stories Browse Dreams
Browse Confessions Confess!
Community Home Search People
Experience Groups Home Goals and Planning Home Search Groups
Random Experience Random Member Random Story Random Commenting Music Music for your Mood Music Meanings Music Quiz Blogs Recent Blogs For Fun Daily Survey Daily Interview How Are You? Daily Question Search Snoop Spread the Word
Your Story Your Confession Your Dream
Carol Lin Reporting
Smarter. Better. Together
Hi, my name is Carol. I've been a network anchor and correspondent for CNN and ABC News. I am now a cancer survivor because I'm the one who lived. When I lost my husband to a rare cancer, I raged against the wind. Why did God and the Universe give us a baby but take her father away? Maybe our story really is about hope, strength, courage. It's time I report on something that goes right to the heart of the matter for cancer families: how life changes, how cancer creates opportunities for us to ask tough questions and demand answers. Isn't that what a journalist is suppose to do? I want to share my journey. I want to hear from you.

Members can use our free journaling service to keep track of their day-to-day thoughts and feelings. Think of it as a diary that you can choose to share or keep private. We're having a lot of fun here, so login or join us today-- it's free and anonymous, and you can be participating in seconds

Oct 12th, 2007

Catscan Results—No. Please NO. Dec 3rd 2002

Dr Chen called us and asked us to come in today. It's a day before our appointment to get the catscan results. That alone told us we were not getting good news.

She brought us in to an exam room. Will was sitting to my left. I waddled and fell in to a chair. My feet are so swollen today. Dr. Chen introduces to two earnest looking "doctors'. They are residents. Dr. Chen looks grim. She took a breath. This is not cancer in the gum. It's a tumor that started in Will's left sinus that has grown in to the gum and his jawbone. Stage four a classification of tumor that has spread. There is no "Stage Five". This is as bad as it gets. I looked up at Dr. Chen  and she sobbed. A quick intake of breath and then I saw the stoic composure of a surgeon.  It's not good when your scan makes your surgeon cry.  I wonder for a moment why she would invite two residents to witness this? What sort of teaching moment was she aiming for? She shows us his scan. and I see a grey cloudy mass in the middle of Will's skull---his sinus cavity.   I could feel my heart stop. Can your heart actually stop? In the bone? Stage four? 40% chance of five year survivability. Only 30,000 people a year get this cancer? Aggressive radiation. Chemo? We should start right away.

Do everything we can. WHAT???!!! We started to cry. I was sobbing. Will and I leaned in to each other. The sliding doors open and a woman walks by. I only heard her. She whispered "Have faith." Have FAITH?

It's five in the morning and I've just woken up and can feel Will's warmth. He's sleeping in one of his soft old t-shirts. It's the kind with tiny holes---a shirt that is warm and comforting but starting to unravel just a little bit at a time. I called the control room where I knew Jodi was just about to start her show. It's one of the only benefits of having a best friend up at that hour. I knew the show was about to start, but I had to talk to her.

Posted by CarolLin at 13:28 on Oct 12th, 2007
(updated Oct 16th, 2007)		  
5 Comments | Add Comment | 32202 views | Permalink
This Journal Entry's Comment Board (5 comments)
pluggedin
Posted on 03:28PM on Oct 12th, 2007
I can hardly imagine the pain, confusion, and fear that you must have felt at that point. You describe it so poignantly.
ExperienceProject
Posted on 07:14PM on Oct 18th, 2007
You are an amazing communicator. You capture this horrendous moment in a way I can't quite describe, but is simply astounding.
piggy36
Posted on 01:02AM on Oct 19th, 2007
I remember when my partner was diagnosed with IBC in June 2002. It was devastating to us (and my kids). She passed November 4, 2006. I can (finally) begin to relate to being a 'cancer survivor'. I was too angry, lost, sad, and etc. etc. etc. when I first lost her, but I'm beginning to live again.
lovereading
Posted on 07:58AM on Oct 20th, 2007
Thank you for sharing this terrible moment with us. I'm sure your strength and bravery and willingness to be vulnerable will inspire many others.
lovereading
Posted on 08:03AM on Oct 20th, 2007
Thank you for sharing this experience, it almost made me cry. When that person whispered have faith, it was probably God speaking through that person. Even if we can't have faith that our lives will continue on this planet, we can have faith that there IS something more on the other side! So many near-death experiences have been so similar--even across cultures. I think it will be okay. One person who died on the operating table twice said you walk towards the light. It is the perfect feeling of love and acceptance just as you are.
Add Comment
Who
Carol Lin

Carol Lin is a journalist who served as news anchor for CNN, national correspondent for ABC's "Good Morning America" and reported for World News Tonight with Peter Jennings. She has been honored with numerous awards for her work, including three Los Angeles Press Club Awards and the National IMAGE Award.

CAnswer

Cancer is a plague that has touched the lives of too many of us. Your story is important. Learn more at EP's Cancer Support Project

Share your story with us.