I Have a Voice

“I’m sorry, the thyroid cancer was wrapped around your vocal chords.  We had to scrape them. You may never speak again.”  Never speak again?  I’m only 19! I haven’t even been heard yet!

Thus, began my 53-year-long cancer journey.  But, heard I would be! My voice did return and I used it on behalf of domestic violence victims, abused children, infants born with AIDS, homeless teens and many others.

The next year, the cancer metastasized to the lymph nodes on the left side of my neck resulting in a radical neck dissection. Permanent scars and disfigurement of my neck, collar bone area and jaw line.  Not easy to accept when you are only 20 years old.  What kept me going was my mantra, “I have a voice. I must be heard.” “I have a voice. I must be heard. I have a voice. I must be heard.”

After marriage and divorce, with two children ages 4 and 7, my education and career did not follow the normal paths. Working and going to college part-time, I did not graduate until I was 32.  I received my Masters in Social Work at 33. What kept me going was my mantra, “I have a voice. I must be heard.” “I have a voice. I must be heard. I have a voice. I must be heard.”

At age 47, I married Bill.  He was a kind and generous soul who wanted to help me achieve my dream of attending law school so I could combine a law degree with my social work education and experience for even greater impact.  I graduated law school and passed the Bar at age 50. After graduation, I was appointed a Deputy Attorney General of New Jersey representing the then Division of Youth and Family Services. Unfortunately, Bill passed away shortly after my graduation.  However, he left me with the lasting  gift of a law degree to fight for teenagers prostituted for drugs, children beaten with belt buckles, and infants abandoned and left to die.

Depressing? Yes.  Gut wrenching? Yes. Frustrating? Yes. But, always…. “I have a voice.  I must be heard.  I have a voice. I must be heard. I have a voice. I must be heard.”

In 2012, I was diagnosed with Stage 1b breast cancer, ER+ and HER2+. No big thing.  After what I had been through, I could certainly live without one breast.  If only that was all there was to it.  The chemo, the scan anxiety, the juggling appointments, the fatigue, the brain fog, the realization of how aggressive HER2 can be……so much I was not prepared for.  But, “I have a voice. I must be heard.” “I have a voice. I must be heard. I have a voice. I must be heard.”

Almost at the 5 year mark, in 2017, the cancer metastasized to my lungs.  These metastases were held at bay for 2 years by Kadcyla. Life went on.  Smooth sailing.  I knew what to expect and how to cope.  Then, in 2019, a brain metastasis. Now, we were talking serious stuff. Removing my breast was one thing, but operating on my brain was another. Fortunately, I was a good candidate for gamma knife surgery, which was successful. So, I continued: “I have a voice. I must be heard.” “I have a voice. I must be heard. I have a voice. I must be heard.”

Three years later, the cumulative effects of chemotherapy and intermittent brain swelling resulted in double vision, severe headaches, gait and balance issues and painful neuropathy.  My neurologist told me to stop driving.  My oncologist stopped chemotherapy and sent me to a palliative care doctor.  I felt like I had been written off and that there was no hope for improvement.  It was not the cancer that upended me.  Rather, I thought that the side-effects would never get better and I would never have my quality of life back.  I lost my drive.  I no longer felt like I had a voice or anything to say worth hearing.  I no longer committed to anything long term.  I did not audition for a part in a play.  I did not volunteer to lead my book club discussion.  I was ruled by the “What if?”  What if this happens or that happens and I am not able to do it?

Then I found SHARE where I am surrounded by enthusiasm, positivity, and selflessness. You are women who are working during chemotherapy, mothers caring for young children, and others reaching out to the MBC community through volunteer work.  If you can say “Yes”, how can I say, “No”?  Because of you, I have found my voice again through poetry.   I will be the book club leader in July.  I have been approved to foster dogs while someone is in the hospital or rehabilitation, or on short-term military exercises.  I have committed to serve another term on the New Jersey Child Placement Advisory Council Executive Board. Small steps, but, in the right direction.

Yes, I have a voice and I want to use it to say THANK YOU to Victoria, Kate and each of my fellow SHARE MBC group members.

An Empty Space, A Full Hear

My pen

Once used

To draft legal memos

To protect a 13-year old

Prostituted for drugs

Lays untouched and unused.

No longer putting to paper

The legal arguments

That once flowed so easily

From my brain.

My computer

That once

Hummed with activity

Doing legal research

To protect an 8-year old

Beaten and scarred

Sits silent, disconnected, unproductive.

Like me.

My calendar

Once filled

With critical trial dates

Now reminds me of oncology appointments,

Scans and biopsies.

Each turned page a reminder

Of the passing of precious time.

The space is empty

Yet, my heart is full.

I shut the door.

I leave it all behind.

But, the children I saved

Come with me.

Sandra Moss

June 17, 2021

Sandra Moss

Sandra is a retired attorney who had served as a Deputy Attorney General of New Jersey representing the Division of Youth and Family Services.

Sandy, as she is known to her friends, was first diagnosed with cancer at age 19. She has survived thyroid, parathyroid, and breast cancer. She is now living with MBC that has spread to her lungs and brain.

She is a poet, a writer, an actress, and an active member of an MBC support group at SHARE.