"I'm Too Young for This!" Founder Matthew Zachary for "I'm Still Beautiful 2009"

"I'm Too Young for This!" founder Matthew Zachary talks about i2y and why you should come to I'm Still Beautiful this Thursday!

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Megan's Story

Eleven months ago, I was a 22-year-old newlywed with a plan. My husband and best friend, Peter, and I were married on August 2, 2008. We spent the first three months of our marriage imagining the wonderful life we would have together. I was pursuing my dream of becoming a speech pathologist at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln--once my studies were complete, my husband and I would move to move to Fort Wayne, Indiana where he would begin studies to be a Lutheran pastor.

A few days after my husband and I took our first trip to Illinois after our wedding, I started experiencing jaundice and felt fatigued. At first doctors thought I was having an allergic reaction to medication, but after bloodwork, an ultrasound of my abdomen, and a CT scan (all of which happened within a few hours), I was told that there was a large mass in my liver that might be cancer. My heart sank, and I recalled a sick feeling I had the night before that there was something seriously wrong with me.

After several more tests and doctors’ visits I was diagnosed with metastatic cholangiocarcinoma (bile duct cancer)--a disease which almost always affects people at least 2 or 3 times my age. Because of the advanced nature of my cancer, I was told that surgery would not be an option.

Almost immediately after my diagnosis, my husband and I moved into my parents' home to be close to Chicago's medical facilities and to our families. I started chemotherapy (a regimen of 2 weeks of Gemzar and Xeloda
followed by a week of rest), and, thanks to God, my tumors began shrinking (they’re now stable, which is certainly preferable to growing). My worst side effects from chemotherapy include fatigue, flu-like symptoms, a puffy face, and peeling feet, but the drugs have not caused me to lose my hair. Throughout the past 11 months of chemotherapy, I have learned what to expect on each day of the cycle, and I can plan my activities around my good days. I’ve had my share of bad days, but I choose to let the good days outweigh the bad.

My family and I have had moments of extreme hope followed by moments of extreme despair. I’ve had several surgeries (2 of which were attempted, but unsuccessful, resections of my primary tumor), lost both my ovaries and my gallbladder, and spent much of my time in doctor’s offices, emergency rooms, and hospitals. However, this fall my husband and I decided that we couldn’t live our life tied to the chemo chair, frozen by the fear of what might happen next. We modified our plans, found a doctor in Fort Wayne, IN, and moved so that Peter could attend Concordia Theological Seminary. So far, God has blessed us with a lot of love and support from family and friends, and we're looking forward to growing and learning during this next chapter of our lives.

Now I am a 23-year-old approaching the one-year anniversary of my diagnosis. My plans may have changed, but I am living on God's timeline, not anybody else's. I realize that I am fortunate to be doing as well as I am. More importantly, I am extremely blessed to be able to share my belief in miracles with others as well as the peace and comfort that comes with God's love.

Christy's Story

My greatest life challenge to date occurred while on vacation a few years ago. I was alone in a Florida hospital, 2300 miles from my home in Idaho, and still groggy from colonoscopy anesthesia. A nurse wheeled me in to receive the results from a man who had just become my gastroenterologist. He began by saying, “Is there anyone nearby that you can call?” The reply was in my expression and with that, he sat down in front of me and said, ”Well, It’s not good. We found a tumor. A tumor so large we couldn’t get through to scope the rest of the colon. “ He went on to explain that it was cancer. The moment he said the word I laughed it off and said, “Of course it is.”

Moments later, as the nurse rolled me to my room I slumped down in the wheelchair and began to sob. Preparations were being made for emergency surgery. My colon was in danger of rupturing. The tumor had already grown through a wall of the colon and later it was determined, into the lymph nodes.

That night, I climbed into the hospital bed that was to be my home for the next ten days. My mind reeled. Could I really have cancer? How could I have cancer? I’m only 31 years old. Why did I have cancer? Next came a flood of emotion as I reflected on the not so distant memories of my birth father and his battle with cancer. It had only been five years since brain cancer took his life at the age of 53. At diagnosis he was given three months to live. He endured two brain surgeries, physical therapy, and round after round of radiation and chemotherapy. A year and a half later, when one brain tumor had become three, his body succumbed to the disease. I was there. What I knew of cancer was what I saw take my father. What I saw take my father was excruciating. Now I had my own battle with cancer to face.

A surgeon was able to remove my tumor, a foot and ½ of the colon, & the lymph node system with success. With six weeks of recovery time, I found myself ready to take on seven month long chemotherapy treatments. It was during recovery that the consideration to stay in the South to undergo treatment began. My home in Idaho was in the Teton Mountains, where winter temperatures can dip well below zero for long periods of time. This would not work well for my fingers and toes dealing with chemotherapy side effects such as neuropathy. Not to mention the stressful hours of commuting through ice and snow for treatment. So in the south I stayed. This was a terribly difficult decision considering the fact that I owned and operated a busy restaurant in Idaho and had planned to be gone for only one week. So, after a roller coaster ride of preparations, I settled in the Franklin, Tennessee area with my adopted family and finished treatment at Tennessee Oncology in the spring of 07.

Finally, I traveled to M.D. Anderson for extensive testing, where I was given the “all clear’” release from my oncologist. Oh what a liberating day! It was, to say the least, a very emotional experience. My thoughts returned immediately to my birth father. He’d spent months at M.D. Anderson not so terribly long ago. Now I had a deeper understanding of what he’d been through. In his memory, and in celebration of the new victory, I decided to pay a visit to his favorite outdoor place to rest during treatment. What I found brought me to tears. Where once stood only a concrete wall, was now a beautiful rose garden. It was just what he would have loved. This provided the perfect place, the perfect time to reflect and let go of the tears.

In departure, my wonderful doctor’s last bit of advice was to keep my stress level down. I told him that would actually be tough to do because I owned a restaurant. I owned a restaurant and had a lot of work to catch up. He said, “Well, do what you need to do.” So I returned from my nine month ‘vacation’ and decided to sell my restaurant, my home, and move back to the hills of Tennessee. I’d fallen in love with Tennessee during treatment and knew this was where I needed to be for healing. First, I had a lot of work to do in Idaho. Seven months later, November 2007, I turned over the restaurant keys to the new owner and moved from the Rocky Mountains to a hollow in Tennessee, just south of Leipers Fork.

Last month I moved into Nashville to pursue massage therapy and become more involved in outreach for the community. I feel so blessed and strengthened by my journey with cancer. Life has taken on a whole new meaning. I hope to continue as a source of support for others who are touched by this disease or other adversities.