In March 2007,I was recovering from an operation for breast cancer and going through a terrible time. I spent my days at home1everything to myself. Then one of my colleagues suggested2“Why don't you pick a couple of days and go to Ireland and escape?” I3the tip.
The trip was fun, but when I got on the4to go home ,I wasn't feeling well. My plan was to sleep for the5journey, but the guy next to me looked good-hearted for a conversation6he had kind eyes.
“I had an operation,” I said7'I had breast cancer.' 'He paused for a moment and said,“ What's wrong with that? Breast cancer is just a small8of you, like going to college or getting married.”
I could feel my eyes9up with tears.
“Don't think too much of your problem,” he said. “Instead, think about how many people you could help.”
I had tears coming down my face, and said, “I can't10I'm crying in front of you, I don't11know you.”
“Look, you have a12in life,” he said. “You can either13your things deep in your pockets and take them to your grave, or you can help someone.”
I've always been a very14person, and aside from the few people who needed to know, I'd kept my illness secret. I didn't want to be15by my weakness.
But this man, whose name was Ken Duane, showed me that my illness gave me16-because it gave me the ability to17someone else's load. I decided at that moment that I was going to try to help others by sharing my story18,in hopes of inspiring those who were in the same or similar situation. Later that year, I talked about my illness and my19with Ken on air.
I am forever20that I never took a nap on that flight over the Atlantic.
