Robin Ryan - Retirement Reinvention

I was scared. No, I was downright terrified. I couldnt feel anything. I couldnt even think about anything. I simply sat on that examination table waiting. Moments later the door handle turned and a coldhearted radiologist stood in the doorway and said, Mrs. Ryan, you have breast cancer and you need a mastectomy. Those awful words that no woman ever wants to hear. And like every person who gets a cancer diagnosis, my world was shattered in seconds.

I would fight for my life for the next two years and, of course, close down my business. This book is a symbol of my recovery, and I want you to benefit from what I learned: live for now. You dont know what tomorrow will bring. Cancer is a terrifying experience. I went through four surgeries and extensive chemo. I was left with nerve pain so excruciating that I stayed on serious painkillers for nine months. That nerve damage became permanent. Chemo is an awful experienceif you have never gone through it, I hope you never do. They literally are poisoning you, and you become so, so ill. It takes everything youve got to battle the cancer in your body. Some of us are blessed by God, and we win. Sadly, many people lose.

While I was sick, my friend and former secretary Wanda Bartel died from cancer at the age of fifty-three. I couldnt wrap my head around how this vibrant, expressive lady died. She just couldnt, but she did, and I was absolutely devastated. We also buried one of the hockey moms whose son played on my sons team. Jennifer McCutcheon and I were diagnosed with breast cancer one week apart, and this nice lady lost the battle. She was in her early fifties.

I survived. But living through something as scary and traumatic as cancer (and losing those ladies during that time) absolutely changes you. I dont look at the world the same way. I try to appreciate a little bit more each day. I love my family and cherish our moments together more dearly. I look at my son, Jack, and am ever so grateful I will see him go to college, graduate, marry someday, and maybe even give me a grandchild. I have so many more days I can spend with him. Although I do live with chronic pain, I always remind myself that both Wanda and Jennifer would have given anything to see their sons grow up.

I witnessed the good in people. I appreciated my caring friends for all they did to help me and just for being part of my supportive world. Kind friends drove me to doctors, physical therapy, and anywhere I needed to go. Strangers sent me cards, and thoughtful friends wrote me supportive notes. In the last year, I even forgave a good friend who walked away when I got sick. That was hard to do, but in forgiving her I found more peace. No, I havent forgotten how she turned her back on me. Some situations end badlyI just accepted that as a challenging part of life.

It took me two years to recover and be able to start to work again, even part-time. I missed helping my clients land new jobs, but there were many days when I was pretty convinced that I could never do it again, never write again, never feel well enough to give a speech. Many people suffer from something called chemo brain or chemo fog. You just cant think very clearly or remember much. You walk around in a fog. Boy, is it disheartening. And it takes a long, long time to clear up. I was blessed in being able to recover enough to write this book. My goal was to make a difference. I wanted to be able to help you and other baby boomers who might need some final-career-stage advice on more effective ways to plan