Leslie's Story

On President’s Day 2008, I thought my life was perfect. I had everything I had ever dreamed of and was the happiest I had ever been in my life. I spent the early holiday morning running on the beach, thanking my God for all the abundance and joy I had in my life. I allowed my heart to feel the moment and etch it into my memories as one of the greatest mornings of my life.

I held onto my fabulous President’s Day memory the next morning, as I entered my doctor’s office. I had an appointment, at the stern prompting of my husband, to have an unusual lump in my left breast examined. I discovered it by chance a few days before while my little girl slept in my arms. She made a quick movement and her head hit my breast. I felt an unusual throbbing pain. Why had I not felt this before? By chance, I was lying with both of my sleeping children in one bed, one on each side of me. By chance, I had both arms above my head, just like they tell you to do during your monthly self- breast exam. By chance or miracle, I felt the elusive lump that would hide if my arm was down to my side.

I could see in my doctor’s eyes as he examined the lump that he was deeply concerned and worried. I also knew at that moment that the lump was not “normal”. No matter how many people in the next 48 hours were to tell me “everything will be fine”, I knew in my heart that the elusive lump was cancerous. Though my life was perfect the day before, my life would be unrecognizable within days.

Exactly one week later, I was diagnosed with Invasive Ductal Carcinoma, a grade 3 tumor that is estrogen receptive. As my doctor slowly announced my diagnosis, all I could think of was how weird all the words sounded. They were of a vocabulary unknown to me that moment, but would be a language I would be well-versed in within days. My life changed instantaneously, with Dr.’s appointments, scans, tests and hours of research. I felt like I was studying for an exam in which I never attended the class, but had to get a perfect score on the final test. There were so many decisions to make; the first major one was whether to get a lumpectomy, a single mastectomy or a bilateral mastectomy with or without reconstruction. With family history and the statistics laid before me, I made the very emotional choice of a bi-lateral mastectomy with reconstruction. Every woman with breast cancer has their own attachment and emotions regarding their breasts. Though mine were not the young firm breasts of my youth, they were mine and I would miss them for many reasons. But the decision was easy to make given the statistics of reoccurrence and the very young age of my children. I wanted their childhood to only be interrupted once. My chemotherapy would commence three weeks post- surgery. In the days and weeks that followed, I cried, screamed, and quietly said good-bye to my life as I had known it. I hugged, kissed and connected with my family and many friends in a way I had never had before.

The wonderful thing about the chaos of cancer is that is quickly puts a blur to your memories and rituals of yesterday. Your life and vocabulary changes and your priorities are quickly realigned. I am still in the midst of my chemotherapy. The therapy has not been kind to me. I am not “one of those” that goes through the series of treatments with mild reactions. My reactions have been severe, similar to being hit with a Mac Truck. I get relentless body aches, mouth sores, fatigue, and abdominal pains. I contracted a severe Staph infection from my port-a -cath surgery between rounds 1 and 2, adding yet another prescription to my pharmaceutical list. My treatments are 21 days apart. It takes just that long to recover before the next semi-tractor trailer of Chemotherapy roles over me. I have two more rounds of chemo to endure and conquer. I plan on decorating my chemo chair with festive balloons on August 6, 2008. It will be a celebration.

I am a 43 year old Personal Trainer, who was very fit and active with incredible endurance. Today, I am easily fatigued, unable to work and manage my family on a daily basis. I am dependent on family and friends to keep my home running somewhat smoothly. My workouts are not five mile runs but rather gentle walks around the neighborhood. Yet, the lessons I have learned keep getting better, clearer and more profound. Though I was a physically strong woman, as a cancer patient I am realizing my real strength as a human being.

Cancer has put me in the middle of a minefield, a mine of diamonds. The lessons have been gems that I have shared with all my friends and family through an update letter I send out regularly to keep everyone informed of the real experience of Breast Cancer. Cancer has made me see what a “perfect” life really looks like. It is one filled with authentic friendships, deep family connections and an honest relationship with self. It has made me see how I needed to take even better care of myself not just in a physical way but in a deeper spiritual way, in order to be a better mother and wife. It made me see how divine my friendships are and what an incredible man I married. Cancer has given me a view of my life from a new perspective that makes me cry with joy and embrace each of life’s moments with joy and love. Though I stand today bald and without my breasts, I would have to say my life is – perfect! My cancer journey continues to challenge me on all levels, yet it offers me gifts of life that are only offered to the beautiful women and men fighting cancer. We are all truly winning the Big Game of life!