Ten years ago, following the 13th anniversary of my hysterectomy from cervical cancer – a.k.a., my hyster-versary – I wrote an article for the Huffington Post titled “13 Ways I Live My Life With Purpose After Cancer.” Three years later, I expanded this mini-manifesto into a book, Seriously, What Are You Waiting For?: 13 Actions to IGNITE Your Life & Achieve The Ultimate Comeback, which is still available for purchase (hint, hint).
At that time, my main motivation was inspiring others to speak out about their cancer experience and take ownership of their narratives – a mission that still drives me today. Many of my speaking engagements are meant to spark meaningful change or simply bring out the best in people. Cervivor, Inc., the non-profit I started in 2005, is all about empowering cervical cancer patients and survivors to unite as a community and advocate for their needs.
This year, however, my hyster-versary (June 14) hits different. I’m still grieving over the loss of my sister, Lildra, who was a constant source of strength and a mother to me in many ways. Without her here, I feel a deeper sense of vulnerability. And I’m facing my mortality in a way I haven’t since I was 25 – battling cancer and simply praying to survive.
Back then, I felt I had so much more life to live. However, I was also devastated to lose my womb from the hysterectomy. I believed I’d never be able to have a child of my own. It was an unattainable dream.
Now, 23 years later, things look vastly different – not just in terms of cervical cancer outcomes, awareness, and prevention, but also on a deeply personal level. I’ve learned more about myself, what I believe in, and what matters to me. I have a child now.
The legacy I want to leave
Next year, I’m going to be 50. Am I happy to still be alive? Yes. Am I planning to leave this earth anytime soon? No. But I recognize there are more years behind me than in front of me.
Because of this, I’ve been thinking about the legacy I want to leave. Beyond being Tamika Felder, the “coochie cancer lady” who never stopped fighting for patient rights – an unofficial title I wear with pride – I’m especially focused on how my 18-month-old son, Chayton, will remember me.
When he looks back, I want him to think of a fun, loving mom who raised a kind and curious kid, a mom who instilled in him the importance of fighting for what he believes in, even when it’s hard.
Lildra used to say she wanted her epitaph to read, “She had a good time while she was here.” I always admired that and want the same thing. When I’m gone, I hope people – especially Chayton – think of me and smile and laugh.
Following my own advice
In my book, I told readers, “Life is not a fairy tale. It’s filled with twists, U-turns and surprises. You just have to keep holding on and remember to BREATHE.”
As I mark this hyster-versary, feeling the weight of both the past and future, I’m going to take my own advice and BREATHE. Every year, every moment is a gift, and I’m recommitting to making the most of each one. I wish the same for all of my fellow survivors out there.
Happy National Cancer Survivors Month, everyone. Let’s raise a glass.
xo