Letter to My Younger Self

Dearest Peggy,

I am writing to your innocence, to the happy, optimistic person you have always been. At this moment, you have no idea what awaits you, tho you may think you do. Truth is that life is about to be turned upside down, and you’ll never be the same.

First the mind-bending, shocking news—ovarian cancer. Then denial—how could that be? No symptoms. No risk factors. No history of cancer in our family...and finally the loss of control-- and the realization that you never really had it. But this is a learning experience in progress. Number one lesson--give up any semblance of control and give into the medicine, the treatments and the love that is pouring your way.

I’m writing to you from the future, so I’m giving away the punchline, but yes, you’ll come through the treatment with flying colors. Still, there is so much to discover before you get here. For example, you’ll be humbled by what it means to be a patient—on the receiving end of the work we do. You’ll find some people can’t or won’t acknowledge your illness. You’ll meet with a therapist who’s too frightened to hear about how scared you are. You’ll hate your wig. You’ll much prefer going commando, but you’ll wear a cap because you see in other people’s eyes how uncomfortable they are with a hairless woman

On the other hand there’s a whole shadow universe that will suddenly become visible--a whole world out there filled with networks of information and dedicated caregivers and kindess, and people who talk to each other. And there’s another world you didn’t really appreciate. The world of what friends do for each other at a time like this. They will knit shawls, they will write to you, they will call you daily, they will bring dinner, they will send hundreds of cards, books, lotions candles, and they wear green bracelets that say Team Peggy.

Some days it will feel like having the blindfold peeled from your eyes and seeing for the first time. Other days will thankfully ordinary. But from now on you will struggle with some things continually. Above all, the question: If time is limited how do I want to spend it? What’s surprising is that you don’t really know.

But you’ll think about it:

See more musicals
Be honest with yourself and others
Enjoy your good jewelry
Give to NPR
Go on a safari
Do pet therapy, --with someone else’s dog
Sit on your porch watching the sun come up on summer mornings


You never felt like much of a nurturer, but you will definitely become a far better friend. Relationships that ended badly, or were left hanging, will be settled. You will resolve to make time for your friends, no matter what it takes.

The hardest part of what lies ahead, in addition to letting go of control, is not knowing what lies ahead. You know the statistics but you’re determined not to be one. You will do your best to enjoy every moment and get comfortable with uncertainty. For the first time, not knowing is better than knowing. It’s hard to get used to.

But you and I, we’re tough, resourceful, we’re smart, we’re positive and we’re going to make it together.


With love and hope,

An Older and Wiser Peggy