“Your body listens to everything you say, so be careful what you tell it!”
“Life’s a celebration, so start living it.”
It was the end of my breast cancer treatment. I should have been jubilant, but Doctor’s words struck me as a “warning” to change my way of thinking. I took him at his word and made a conscious effort to live and think positively from that day forward — just in case my body was listening. I posted his words on the bathroom mirror so I’d see them when I got ready for work. I pasted them on my computer screen at the office and over the kitchen sink where I’d see them while the doing dishes. It became my mantra: “Life’s a celebration!”. And behind that exclamation mark were the sobering words: “Your body listens to everything you say.”
Before breast cancer at age forty, I was more of a glass-half-empty type. But after the completion of treatment, I became a glass-half-full woman. It was the fall of 1996, and I loved my job in health information management. But I knew if life was going to be a true celebration, I needed to change career paths. More than anything, I wanted to make a difference — not just go through the motions of bringing home a paycheck.
As I researched the possibilities, I decided that I wanted to share with others how to overcome the challenges brought about by cancer. I contacted my public library, and they agreed to allow me to present on the topic: “What to Say and How to Help When Someone Has Cancer.” The only thing I forgot was that I had a paralyzing fear of public speaking — so much so that I gave up graduating from college because I never took Speech 101.
I had one month before the evening’s presentation at the Milanof-Schock Library in Mount Joy, Pennsylvania. Every time, I passed the library on the way home from work, I felt more fear creep in. How was I going to present a two-hour seminar without my voice quivering , my hands shaking, and my palms sweating? Maybe they could see dim the lights through the entire presentation, and no one would have to see me. Or maybe, like in “The Wizard of Oz, I could hide behind the screen as I narrated the PowerPoint.
I knew from past research that public speaking was the number-one fear of most people. In fact, it was greater than the fear of death. I took some comfort in that, but I was still afraid. Every time I thought about standing in front of a crowd, my palms started to sweat, and my throat became dry.
Two weeks before the seminar, I called my best friend, Kim, who planned to be in attendance that evening. As a high-school Spanish teacher, she was accustomed to getting up in front of students and teachers.
I blurted out, “I don’t think I can do the seminar!”
“What are you talking about? Kim questioned. “You’ll do fine. Your passion will override every fear. Remember, it’s not about you; it’s about the people you’re trying to help!”
“Thanks, Kim. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks.”
The evening of the seminar, as people poured in and filled the room, more chairs to be brought in to accommodate the crowd. One of the first to arrive was the head of the medical practice where I worked, followed by my friend Kim. More friends and guests came to offer support.
After the introduction were made, I walked numbly towards the podium with my syllabus and PowerPoint, ready to share my heart felt’s message. As I began telling my story, I saw people in the audience dabbing at tears. Others nodded in affirmation, and Kim smiled warmly. I realized that the shaking voice was absent, and my hands weren’t sweating. My focus was on the crowd — not me!
As I delivered my last PowerPoint slide with the words “Life’s a Celebration,” there was silence followed by a standing ovation. I was both relieved and excited that I had not only overcome cancer, but also my lifelong fear of public speaking!
It’s been fifteen years since I gave my first speech, but it wasn’t my last. Since that time, I’ve been traveling across the country giving my hallmark speech, “Living the Passionate Life.” On November 2, 2007 I was scheduled to deliver a keynote at the Fox Chase Cancer Center in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, for the Eileen Stein Jacoby Fund for breast-cancer research. As I stepped up to the podium, an entourage followed me with a beautifully framed plaque in hand, a corsage of pink and white roses, and wearing smiles of appreciation.
As it turned out, I wasn’t going to be giving a speech at all, but receiving the “Celebration of Life Award” from the Fox Chase Cancer Center. Tears sprang to my eyes as I accepted the award on behalf of all breast-cancer survivors who have discovered that life is worth celebrating — even on the darkest days.
Through my tragedy, pain and loss, I discovered my passion for public speaking and celebrating life — one precious day at a time!
