Vicki's Story

I’m used to making lists:
To-do lists.
Grocery lists.
Books I want to read.
Gifts I need to buy.
Places I want to visit.

When I was 29 years old, fate gave me a new list I hadn’t planned on…ways to live with Multiple Sclerosis. I was diagnosed one week after I started dating my future-husband, Louie. The first few months were paralyzing, both emotionally and physically. Since I was hospital-bound for weeks, Louie stayed with me until and beyond the time my family arrived. His commitment, compassion and initiative impressed both me and my family. I couldn’t help but fall in love with him. We married in 2001.

While we were planning our wedding, Louie’s dad became ill with stage IV brain cancer (Glioblastoma), with a prognosis of six months to live. We immediately moved up our wedding and decided to get married in Los Angeles instead of Seattle. It was important to have Louie’s dad there to share our day. We lost him during our first year of marriage.

Cancer has always been a constant in both Louie’s and my life. Both of our mothers are cancer survivors; Louie’s mom had breast cancer and my mom has faced breast cancer several times, endometriosis and thyroid cancers. Seeing them survive time and again was encouraging even before my diagnosis. Because of our family history, and knowing we wanted to start a family, I decided to go for genetic testing. I learned that I was a BRAC1 carrier. While this news was devastating, we didn’t have a lot of time to let it sink in…I was 35 and my biological clock was ticking. Getting pregnant was easy, but I had to stop all MS medication for six months. This was a risky decision, but we were committed to starting a family. We actually got pregnant the first month we tried, miscarried and tried again a month later. Success! There was nothing I wanted more than to be a mother.

Because of the MS and as a BRAC1 gene carrier, mine was a “high risk” pregnancy. I was closely monitored throughout my pregnancy, and in my seventh month faced an Inflammatory Breast Cancer scare. They performed a punch biopsy. Once again, Louie was by my side. Four painful samples and one “woozy” husband later, we each had our own nurse and smelling salts! Fortunately, the results came back clear and my pregnancy continued smoothly. I gave birth to a healthy 7lb. 13oz. boy on February 27, 2007.

Now for the fun part…

Three months after the birth of my son, I went in for my bi-annual breast exam. I was diagnosed with breast cancer. The news made me numb and suddenly I was challenged to make new lists…this time, to battle a new illness. Despite our preparation with genetic counselors, we were braced for the possibility but not the reality. The hospital gave me the news by phone, without any plan of attack. As luck would have it, I met an oncologist at church the next Sunday. I briefly told her about my diagnosis for some informal advice, and she insisted that I visit her office the next morning. Somebody was watching out for me. Within three hours, she set me up with all the necessary tests, scans and doctors that I would need in the coming months. I finally had a plan…and a new list. A weight was lifted off of my shoulders that day, and I am still grateful to her.


From the time that I had been genetically tested, Louie and I decided that I would get both breasts removed if I was diagnosed with cancer, so that decision was a no-brainer. It was a little strange to go from a D-cup to a nothing-cup. Although, having no breasts had an upside—no more backaches!

It was almost a year ago that I had my bilateral mastectomy, followed by six rounds of chemotherapy. I am currently undergoing Herceptin. Chemotherapy and I have a hate-love relationship. I hated how it made me feel, but I loved its potential to kill the cancer.

I figured if I HAD to undergo chemo, I was determined to make the best of it. So, I decided to…make a list!1) Weight loss
2) No shaving or waxing3) New hairstyles

To make a long story short, I gained twenty pounds. I still have a hairy lip. But I do have a fabulous collection of new scarves.

During the weeks of my treatments, I won’t kid you…I was not a pleasant person. I was very scared and found myself doubting its effects and benefits. I hated the way it made me feel–tired, achy, bloated, nauseous and, most importantly, incapable of taking care of my own child.

Believe it or not, the toughest thing for me to deal with is that “it is not recommended” that we have any more children and I will have to make a decision about getting a hysterectomy soon. I was just born to be a mother and I’ve always dreamed of having a big family.

I was not Yianni’s primary caregiver during his first year…his grandparents and Louie were. I feared that the chemicals would be too toxic, so I kept my distance from the baby. I now make lists of all that I want to experience with him: taking him to parks, indoor “kiddie” gyms, storytime at the bookstore, sing-alongs, reading and doing puzzles. Recently, Yianni and I slow-danced for the first time in his music class. It was more than a dance; it was a minute-and-a-half that filled my heart with an overwhelming love. I’m tired of being the “sick mom” and I’m even more determined for him not to miss out on anything because of my illness.

I have learned to live in the Now. The laundry and dirty dishes can wait. Family cannot.
I also learned how uplifting the human spirit can be. People can surprise you. I know, because since my diagnosis, they have surprised me time and again. Their capacity to give (their time, talents and prayers) amazes me. As a very independent person, it was hard to accept all the help that was being offered by friends and family. From playing with my son and bringing us home-cooked meals to phone calls, cards scarves, and inspirational books– this generous list continues. I have a newfound compassion for others and I will strive to return the favor every single day. I am asked regularly to talk with others who have been diagnosed with cancer or MS. I always tell them to not let their illness change them or take over their lives. It’s just an obstacle; a bump in the road.My greatest hope…is to give them hope.

My future looks bright! My multiple sclerosis has been quiet. As for the cancer, I will finish Herceptin in September and have reconstruction surgery in October. I have begun psychiatric therapy to deal with the ever-present thoughts of illness and death which live in the back of my mind. I can’t imagine my son without a mother and I am determined to do everything in my power to make myself whole. I know one day I will hear the words cancer-free. And I can’t wait.

Getting to this point has been quite a journey. Since my diagnosis, I make more lists than ever. But one list remains top priority:

Courage…check.
Love…check.
Hope…check.