cervical cancer, sex and stress

There’s plenty of anecdotal evidence that cancer is related to stress, and Shelby is convinced not only that her development of cervical cancer was stress related but also that it was related to unwanted sex with an abusive husband.

"I'm sure that it was the stress of dealing with an abusive husband that gave me cervical cancer -- which, when diagnosed, caused him to wipe me off as 'dead meat' and thankfully get his sex elsewhere," says Shelby, "but when I recovered, refused him sex and dared to divorce him the resultant abominable stress he put me through afterwards brought the cancer out of remission and I needed four more years of treatment to regain my health."

"Even when we were legally separated -- and I was in hospital preparing for an operation -- that man pushed past everyone and hassled me. How diabolical is that?"

"I survived all the abuse and the endless hate mail and telephone calls after the separation because the best treatment for all diseases is to maintain a positive attitude," says Shelby. "Being a 'free' woman allowed me to do happy things for myself that I had never been able to do before - so, for every insult I received I built up my immune system by doing lots of little, inexpensive things that made me calm and happy - taking long walks, meditating, swimming, reading uplifting library books and being with people who made me smile and feel glad to be alive."

"Nobody forgets, but the best way to push bad incidents out of a troubled mind is to fill it with lots of good incidents," says Shelby, "and that's how I not only survived but thrived through a terrible time that might otherwise have killed me."

"As far as everyone else could see, I suppose I was having a good time after the divorce," laughs Shelby, "and that must have made my abuser more determined than ever to destroy me - but the more he tried to hurt me the more I determined to ensure that I kept happy and disease free."

"Thankfully, at the time, I had no other stresses in my life besides him and dealing with cancer," says Shelby. "Back then I had a job - it didn't pay much but it paid the bills - I was fired with enthusiasm to get back into life after a miserable marriage and, most importantly, I was fifteen years younger than I am now and doors just opened for me. At my age now, doors just shut in my face and there's nothing much to feel enthusiastic about."

"With no job, no money, endless accommodation problem and nothing but war and misery in the news, I get very stressed when people start hassling me or telling me about their problems," sighs Shelby. "My head is barely above water. I need all the strength I can muster to maintain a positive attitude. I am in no position to cope with more stresses, and that's why I avoid socializing these days. Everyone has problems, most have worse problems than mine, and being a bit of a psychic-soaker-upper I don't want to risk my health by exposing myself to other people's negative vibes."

"At my age I can cope with my own problems, but I can't cope with other people's as well -- especially when their problems bring back too many of my own bad memories," explains Shelby. "I'm lucky I was younger when I got out of that marriage because I don't have the strength to deal with all that stress now."

menopausal bossy boots

Lynda was an administrative minion, a total nonentity, until menopause changed her into a powerhouse of frenzied activity so impressive that her employer rewarded her with a managerial position, but her ‘change’ was not appreciated at home and, in fact, led to a divorce.

“As soon as my focus was taken off my monthly bodily functions I started to focus on what really matters,” explains Lynda. “I became focused on money and power, and law and order, and I was really pleased that management not only noticed the enormous time and effort I was putting into my work but rewarded me for it with a managerial position paying twice as much as my old job .”

“I have no idea whether the supercharge in energy and focus I felt after menopause is typical of all menopausal women, or just me,” explains Lynda, “but I loved the feeling of power it gave me.”

“My husband and adult children starting calling me a bossy boots,” sighs Lynda, “and this really annoyed me because I saw them as holding me back, preventing me from achieving my potential.”

“I became totally focused on small things that I had never noticed before, or never been bothered by them before,” explains Lynda. “Not just things at work or at home, but in the wider community as well.”

“I hated the way people flouted the law, dropping litter, smoking in non-smoking areas, swearing in public, vandalizing public property and being generally loutish and for the first time in my life I felt empowered and unafraid to intervene, totally comfortable about speaking out about things that annoyed me.”

“Oh yes, I know, my husband and family warned me that I should mind my own business otherwise I’d get a knife stuck in me,” laughs Lynda, “but nothing like that has happened to me and nothing will. People are genuinely surprised that I’d take the trouble to confront them, and most comply with my wishes without a murmur.”

“The trouble with society today is that the authorities are too lenient, letting people get away with bad behavior,” explains Lynda. “I see it as my civic duty to ensure that people are doing the right thing. The police cannot be everywhere, and if I’m doing their job for them, then so what? Someone has to do it. ”

“Being promoted to a managerial position rewarded my change of focus from ‘me’ to the wider good,” explains Lynda. “Sure, my former work colleagues grumbled a bit when I took them to task for being slack, but now they take notice of what I say – I’m their new boss!”

“Okay, I admit that my marriage came unstuck, but as my husband and adult children couldn’t keep up with me, and didn’t do what I told them to do, what else could I have done?”

“The crunch came, actually, when my husband pushed me in anger - after I’d told him umpteen times to take out the garbage – and I fell and hurt my coccyx,” sighs Lynda. “It was the first time I had ever seen him so angry, and the first time he had ever touched me in anger – but that was it, goodbye, as far as I was concerned, and if it were not for the children’s future, and adverse publicity affecting my career, I would have had him charged with assault.”

“I live alone now and I’m quite content with my life,” says Lynda. “My work is consuming more and more of my time and that is fine with me, too, because I am earning so much money now that I will have a very comfortable retirement.”

“I’m 56 now and my energy and focus are as good as they were six years ago, when I first experienced the menopause,” says Lynda. “No, I don’t think I will relapse, and if I do I will take Viagra or something to keep me going. I couldn’t bear to go back to being what I was like before the menopause.”

“Like I said, I love the energy and power that came with menopause -- it was a true gift from the gods after fifty years of being a doormat nonentity.”

“Call me bossy boots, I don’t care,” laughs Lynda. “Better to be kicking ass than having my ass kicked.”

sleep deprived moms

With the birth of her second child, a boy, Dominique's life changed dramatically. He was a perpetual screamer who slept only in short naps, and Dominique's physical and mental health deteriorated greatly from sleep deprivation lasting years and the constant noise the baby made. The stress felt by the whole family eventually led to her marriage breaking down.

"Compared to the pregnancy, birth and early months of my daughter my son Preston caused me trouble from the start," sighs Dominique.

"My joy at being pregnant soon turned to dismay when I started to pile on the pounds," says Dominique. "I ballooned from 110 lbs to 140 lbs in three months and by the end of the pregnancy I was 180 lbs."

"I've never had a weight problem so everyone was amazed when I started to put on so much weight and my doctor hadn't seen anything like it before in his life either," relates Dominique.

"He gave me regular tests and since I was otherwise healthy he told me not to worry - I'd lose it all after the birth - and that was true! What I took 9 months to put on dropped off within six weeks."

"Don't let anyone tell you that boy pregnancies are no different from girl pregnancies," says Dominique. "And don't let anyone tell you that boy babies are no different from girl babies."

"It was almost as if Preston was forcing me to store every morsel of food I ate rather than to eliminate it," says Dominique. "And yes I developed horrific hemorrhoids due to constipation."

"At six months I couldn't see my feet and because the cat nearly tripped me up going down the stairs one day my husband gave it to a work colleague to take care of - but we never got the cat back because things went from bad to worse after Preston was born."

"My sleep became disturbed very early in the pregnancy" says Dominique. "My husband had to move out of our bed to sleep on the sofa in the nursery because Preston was kicking me so much - and on the sofa in the nursery is where my husband stayed from then on until he got fed up with it all and left me."

"Preston's birth was induced - my obstetrician was a top guy and had strict hours for deliveries - and I wish he had given me the option for a caesarian because the whole thing was horrible - so unlike my daughter's natural birth."

"After the induction I went from casual cramps to violent cramps and then I was given an epidural and after several hours Preston was delivered by forceps - he was 10 lbs."

"At last all my troubles were over - or so I thought."

"Preston was very unsettled at the hospital - breast feeding was hopeless - so I took him home early in order to get him and myself settled into a familiar routine."

"From the minute we walked into our house Preston started screaming - and he kept it up on and off until he was about four years old."

"My husband was marvelous in the first two days - he took over almost total care of the kids while I got some sleep - and then he went back to work and I went stark raving mad listening to Preston screaming all day and all night."

"He'd never cry like a normal baby - he just screamed and screamed and screamed - and he would never sleep for more than an hour."

"No sooner than I had got him to sleep - and fell asleep myself - he would be awake screaming again. For twenty four hours every day for about four years this was to be the pattern of my life."

"We tried everything the doctor suggested in order to get Preston settled - we changed his formula to soy milk. We gave him colic mixtures. We moved him from a bassinet to a cot to my bed. We took him on long drives. We rocked him for hours. We bought every conceivable contraption and toy to distract his attention. The list of things we tried was endless."

"Kindly friends suggested I had post-natal depression and was imagining things," says Dominique, "but when I left Preston with a girlfriend for a few hours she changed her tune and couldn't wait to hand him back."

"My husband left me because he couldn't concentrate on work with so much drama going on at home," sighs Dominique. "By then, I actually didn't care whether he was there or not. We hadn't had sex since I'd fallen pregnant with Preston, and I dreaded the thought of getting pregnant again."

"Preston is at school now and sleeps for a maximum of six hours a night," says Dominique. "He is none the worse for whatever caused him to scream all that time. He's just one of those extraordinary people who don't need as much sleep as the rest of us."

"I have always needed eight hours of sleep every night," says Dominique, "so I am still suffering sleep deprivation even though I catch up with naps during the day."

"As a result of Preston's arrival into my life I have gone from a well-adjusted young woman into a nervous wreck. I can't bear to hear a baby crying - even softy - and I am so thankful that I am no longer in a situation where I am likely to get pregnant again."

"I never sought help for my nervous disorders because no drug will ever repair the damage of years of sleep deprivation and sensory assault," says Dominique, "and it's pointless blaming my husband, or Preston, for ruining my life."

"Our daughter, my firstborn, really enhanced the marriage, bringing my husband and I closer together than ever," explains Dominique. "But Preston drove us apart."

"It's the luck of the draw, I suppose, whether a baby makes or breaks a marriage."

menopausal mad cow

Delores, 48, has become known in her workplace as a ‘mad cow’ following a blow-up with her estranged husband when he confronted her at work, and while this sort of incident could just as easily have happened to a younger woman there is no getting away from the fact that most incidents like this do involve older menopausal women.

"Let's face it," says Delores, "young women are more likely to have good news than older women.”

“Everyone loves to hear about a new romance, a new baby, a new house, a new car, a skiing trip, a new band or any number of the new things that young people are getting up to. Nobody wants to hear about an abusive husband, your father's death rattle, the trouble you’re having with children or the progress of your menopause treatment."

“I believe women over 40 typically facing life crises such as divorce, the care and imminent death of parents, menopause and the empty nest,” says Delores, “and add the pressures of being a working mother to this equation and the result can be catastrophic.”

“These life events can happen concurrently, and often do, sometimes triggering a serious illness to compound the misery.”

"Ultimately," says Delores, "I’ll have to find another job. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to live down what happened here. And I’m not out of the woods yet by a long shot. Anything can and probably will happen.”

“I won’t feel safe until that man is locked up for life," says Delores, “and then, maybe, I’ll get around to doing something about my menopausal symptoms.”

"I've been separated now for five months," says Delores, "and I had to move into a separate apartment with my children when my husband became so abusive that I feared for our lives".

"All of this time I've been carrying on as normally as I can at work," says Delores, "but it is very difficult for me to maintain my usual friendly and calm customer service when my life is falling apart at the seams."

"I'm crying one minute then being rude the next and my co-workers are noticing my change in behavior as much as my customers are."

"At first they were sympathetic." says Delores, "but after an incident at work when my husband came in and abused me - in front of everyone - I guess they reached their saturation level as far as sympathy and support is concerned."

"I am mortified that the incident with my estranged husband made me and act like a mad old cow in front of my co-workers," sighs Delores. "Had I been a younger woman, around their ages, I am sure they would have reacted differently."

"Let's face it, this sort of incident with an abusive partner could just as easily happen to a younger woman," says Delores, "but because I am 48 and the raving mad mad they saw at work was 58, I guess they just don't relate to the situation."

"All they saw was an old man and his old lady having a fight at work."

"Maybe the relationships they are in have not reached the stage where they cannot stand their partner," explains Delores. "Maybe they are not yet old enough to have experienced the pressure required for a blow up."

"I'm doing my best to get my life back together," says Delores, "but it's very unpleasant at work with everyone avoiding me."

"Yes, I think ageism has a lot to do with my situation at work," claims Delores. "My supervisor and my co-workers are all younger than myself, by at least ten years, and that matters."

Read more by Delores on this situation:

mad cows

a wounded, divided life

Sad sacks at work