I was in my early teens when I heard about breast cancer and what the treatment entailed. All my girl friends and I would talk about it, and the statistics of getting it. At that time, I think it was 1 out of every 15 would be diagnosed with breast cancer. I would silently think to myself. Gee, I hope I never get that. Then I was in my mid 20's and worked for a major health insurance company. I would hear more and more about the women getting breast cancer. The statistics changed, it was now 1 out of every 12 women. The medical industry had changed slightly on how they handled operations, and healthcare coverage. But women had to pay for their own reconstruction. While working at that same health insurance company, new laws and policy changes occurred and insurance companies began to cover reconstruction of radical mastectomies but only to the cancer ridden breast. It was a change for the better, but still left women in a bind. Fighting a life threatening disease, and left disfigured, and having to come up with thousands of dollars in surgical bills to make them feel and look somewhat normal again. I really prayed I never got any cancer, especially breast cancer.
Knowing that on both sides of my family there was zero history of cancer, and that relatives now and generations back lived into their 80’s and 90’s, I never thought I would get cancer. And it was the last thing I thought I would be doing now, at age 38. Fighting the very thing I never wanted, cancer – breast cancer.
It was Friday night, March 7, 2008 when I found a golf ball sized lump in my left breast. In a millisecond my life changed. I immediately freaked out. There I was complaining to myself about my job, finances, thinking about getting a second job, my love life, my friends, etc. When I seemingly for no reason, just felt the left side of my boob, and found a lump. I immediately thought: “what are you complaining about Heather?” Nothing is as important or could be more trivial, and if anything, I should be grateful for what I do have going on. I was scared. I called my Obgyn first thing Monday morning, and got an appointment. I had a Biopsy on March 12, and at 10 am on the 13th, the pathologist called me with the grim news, Invasive Breast Duct Carcinoma.
I had a couple consultations with surgeons, and decided to go with the one I felt most comfortable. I ended up at the only Cancer hospital in the surrounding 5 state area, The Huntsman Cancer Institute. I started the whole process, MRI’s, CT/PET Scans, and additional biopsies. I had a 2.5 elliptical golf ball sized tumor in my left breast, and 1 axillary lymph positive with cancer. It was really stressful. It seemed like everyday since the 7th of March was bad news. The results of my PET scan showed the cancer in the left breast and axillary, a spot on my thyroid, and a dense spot on my Vertebrae T-3. The Dr’s said the spot on the thyroid was 100% not cancerous, and the dense spot on the vertebrae was 80% not cancerous, but would have to watch it in other scans, if not biopsy later. This was the first good news I had. Shortly after that I found out that I was a triple negative. ER/PR/Her2neu negative.
My surgeon and oncologist discussed my case with the panel of oncologists and surgeons and told me I qualified for one of the trial studies. The study was on its 3rd leg, and was using the same drugs they would normally give a person with breast cancer, plus 2 other medications that were only approved for metastatic colorectal cancer and lung cancer. I began chemotherapy treatments on April 4, 2008. The treatment plan was to undergo 6 months of neoadjunct chemotherapy, surgery and then radiation. I was glad for the extra time to decide whether or not to have a mastectomy or lumpectomy, but dreaded having to go through such a long chemo treatment.
Some of the most discouraging and devastative news came from the first surgeon I saw. Before all the pathology tests were back to determine the ER/PR/Her2Neu or even having a CT/PET scan, she told me the following: I could chose the option of having a lumpectomy that would remove a small grapefruit size lump, which no reconstructive surgery would be done, and insurance would not cover. Or I could have a mastectomy, which would remove the entire breast and nipple, but reconstruction would take place immediately, and insurance would cover. She then told me that she would strongly recommend having the mastectomy, and also consider having both breasts removed, and even my ovaries. She said that I would need to make my decision within 3 days as to surgery options. When asked about the swollen goose egg sized lump in my arm pit, she said it was not a concern and normal swelling from the initial biopsy. She also told me that I would have to take either one or both of 2 drugs given for 5 years to suppress hormones either along with or after chemotherapy. She said that chemo would leave me menopausal for sure, and if chemo didn’t do it the 5 year drug therapy would. I was also told that being 38 was a bad thing and age was not on my side. That if I was lucky I would live for 20 years and at worse I would have 5 years to live. I left that appointment so upset and frustrated.
I was depressed the entire weekend, until I saw the Dr’s at the Huntsman Cancer Institute. The Dr’s there were SHOCKED that anyone would have told me I would only have 20 years at best. They told me that it is now a Federal Law that insurance companies must cover reconstruction whether it is a lumpectomy or a mastectomy. I also learned that without knowing the pathology results and having a CT/PET scan they couldn’t tell me if I would have to take hormone suppressive therapies. I was also told that whether or not I would become menopausal was not absolute, and that it was likely that I would probably get my cycles back because I was 38, not 48. As far as the swollen lymph node in my armpit, they were very concerned and told it was NOT normal. They immediately had it biopsied with a fine needle, and it came back positive for cancer. The more information they have sooner, the better they are at knowing how to proceed with treatment. I later found out that hormone suppressive drugs would have no effect on me or my cancer, and thus no need to take them. I also found out that I did not have a gene for breast cancer. Taking my ovaries would be something I needed to consider. After all of my test results came back, I learned that my cancer is highly survivable. That first Dr spoke to me so negatively and blunt, and later found out that things are NOT so black and white. It has been hard to not let that first consult affect me.
I began chemotherapy on April 4, 2008. It has been rough at times, especially the first half of treatment. I was pretty sad when I had to cut my hair really short because it was falling out, and within days it all fell out. But after the first month of treatment, hair was nothing to be sad over. Chemotherapy leaves you with strangest sick feeling. I feel like I drank some antifreeze and it was absorbed throughout all my tissues, leaving everything from my sinus, taste and bowels disturbed. It makes my organs sort of ache, and the side effects following are hard to deal with. Sometimes it seems like if it isn’t one thing, it another that I have to deal with each week. I have to keep reminding myself that others have suffered and do suffer far worse than this. When I am feeling really icky, I constantly remind myself that the alternative is NOT acceptable, and that I can do this, I can overcome and beat this. I have left myself little notes here and there to help remind myself that I am strong and will out live my grandmother who is now 96.
I now have 2 chemo treatments left, and then I will schedule surgery. I still have not made up my mind as to whether I will have a lumpectomy or a mastectomy. I was told that neither will affect my longevity, only the percentages of whether or not I get a second cancer in the same breast. It is still an ongoing thing for me. Day to day life is not the same. I have good and bad days. It depends on when I get treatment, and side effects. Having a lowered immune system is hard. I love to wakeboard. I live for the summer months of boating and wakeboarding. Unfortunately, mostly due to some of the side effects, I have not been able to do a lot of things. Chemotherapy causes me to feel exhausted quite a bit, and takes the wind right out of you, especially the first 7 days after each chemo treatment. My chemotherapy schedule changed and my drugs switched the first of July, which gives me extra time between chemo treatments. It is really nice to have the extra time to clean my house, do laundry, and get out and have some fun with friends.
I guess it has been a big challenge to not be discouraged, and to think of all the negative aspects of having cancer and going through chemotherapy. I just have to take one day at a time. In an instant cancer changed my life. It made me realize how much I take for granted. It made me realize that life, in life the only thing that is important, the only thing that matters in life is LOVE. All else is just circumstance, and frivolity. I think in a really weird way having cancer has helped my family become closer. Not just my immediate family, but my extended family too. It has helped us communicate better, and be kinder to one another.
I have since become a lot more educated about cancer, and how devastating of a disease it really is. When I was first diagnosed I went through all the how did I get it questions in my head. Maybe it is just biology gone bad, but maybe it is more. I think I have become a lot more aware of the importance of diet. Graduating in Exercise and Sports Science in 1995, and loosing 70lbs and keeping it off for many years, I thought I knew a lot about health, diet and nutrition. But when it comes down to it, I didn’t know enough. As a society, specifically a Western Society, we have a lot of environmental factors that influence our susceptibility to disease and illness; many that we (including myself) are unaware. That combined with genetic influence, and all the other unknown factors, all we have to fight cancer and other disease is our biology – our bodies. Diet is a huge factor on our immune systems, and cellular structure. I was so concerned with looking healthy or fit, I think I forgot or dismissed foods that have the potential to prevent a lot of illness and disease. However, saying that, I am acutely aware that cancer cares not to what you eat, your religion, race, sex, nor how much or little money you have. Cancer does not discriminate. But if I can pass what I have learned on to others, it is that no one is completely immune. That when science tells us that Polycarbonate bottles leech out BPA’s known to cause disease, throw them out. When your mother says to eat your leafy greens, eat them in triplicate. When research tells us that there are “super foods” like the goji, acai, and blueberries, incorporate them into your diet. It can only help.
I think if I was a National Spokesperson for Cancer Awareness I would share the above with people. I would tell people the staggering truth about cancer, all cancer. The incidence of cancer is growing and affecting younger and younger men, women and children. That we as a society need to stand up and demand governmental, and ask private and public donations into the research and development of medications that target fighting cancer more specifically. Researchers are on the cutting edge of identifying different proteins, hormones, and drugs that target cancer cells, but funding is needed.
As a person facing a diagnosis of cancer, I would share what I have written, and the following: No matter what your prognosis, DON’T GIVE UP! I have a dear friend whose mother was diagnosed with Stage 4 Melanoma 12 years ago. She was given 6 months – 1 year to live. She’s not a tip top prime of her life athlete, and she is still here. Yes, she has had several chemo treatments and several surgeries. She has had several cancer free periods; the longest has been the last 3 years. She has had some quality of life changes during treatments and surgeries, BUT SHE HAS NOT GIVEN UP, and SHE IS STILL HERE. I think of her, often. I think to myself, no matter how bad the prognosis, at least I would know. And do everything I can to fight it. No matter what stage and prognosis you are given, find reasons to live, laugh, love and be happy.
If I can pass advice on to anyone recently diagnosed with cancer, it would be to always get a second opinion. Go with a team of Dr’s you trust and believe in, if you ever feel uncomfortable with treatment and advice, it is never too late to seek a second opinion. You are your best advocate, ask questions. Seek out treatment from a cancer specialty hospital, usually affiliated with University Hospitals. Ask about current trials and study medications. Get as much information as you can about your cancer, diagnosis, and prognosis. Find someone to talk to about your treatment, someone who has or is going through chemotherapy, as well as a therapist or counselor. Find time to relax, and do things that are stress relieving. Don’t be sad about your hair, at times I feel ugly too, but know that it will come back. Focus on the positive, tell yourself you are strong and healthy and distract yourself when you are feeling icky. Sometimes it is easy to “talk yourself into” a harder time during treatment, so practice “talking yourself out of it.” Take each day one at a time, when you feel good – go do something! And know in spite of all the people you meet that tell you, oh my mother died of breast cancer, or I have an friend or aunt that died of breast cancer; there are people who have had cancer and now living 38 years later! I have met them. KNOW that you are not alone.
Showing posts with label 2008 Currently Fighting Breast Cancer Stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 2008 Currently Fighting Breast Cancer Stories. Show all posts
Friday, August 8, 2008
Jessica's Mom's Story
I'm writing my story for my mom....
My mom has been diagnosed with breast cancer for the last 5 months. She is a stage 4. The way she found it is she shut the car door on herself, and when the bruise wouldn't go away or stop hurting she went in. The doctor gave her the news a couple of days later. I have 8 siblings in my family, 4 older sister and 4 younger brothers. I remember when I was driving home from a friends one day my sister called me and told me to pull over. I think I cried for the next 2 weeks. It was hard cause we heard one bad thing after the other. When they first took the tumor out we thought ok that wasn't that bad, then we found out there were 2 tumors. A few days later we found out that it was in her lymphnodes. Still we kept up the spirit that ok hopefully it hasn't gone past that. A few days pass and we find out that it is in more places. That its in her bones and her liver. Then the doctor says well it might be in the heart and the brain. I felt like my whole world was crashing down. That she had to go through all these tests and there wasn't anything I could do. I knew that it if it was in her brain she would not go through the chemo. So my family got together and did a prayer for her and just prayed for the best and for her to have the courage to fight this, no matter how much bad news we were given. The news came back it was not in her brain, heart or lungs. I think that was one of the best moments. All I could think was, Mom you can fight this and beat this. I can't imagine my mom not here, when I found out, (I know it's selfish) but I kept thinking what if she isn't here for all the things I want her front row and center in my life. So I decided that I would work as hard as I could to help her in any way I could. That I would hopefully be as strong as she needs me to be, that my siblings and I will always be there for her like she is for us. She is amazing, she has the best spirit. I know she gets down and is so tired but her attitude towards fighting it, is something that is teaching me to believe. So on that note...Mom,...you can fight this...you can beat this....
My mom has been diagnosed with breast cancer for the last 5 months. She is a stage 4. The way she found it is she shut the car door on herself, and when the bruise wouldn't go away or stop hurting she went in. The doctor gave her the news a couple of days later. I have 8 siblings in my family, 4 older sister and 4 younger brothers. I remember when I was driving home from a friends one day my sister called me and told me to pull over. I think I cried for the next 2 weeks. It was hard cause we heard one bad thing after the other. When they first took the tumor out we thought ok that wasn't that bad, then we found out there were 2 tumors. A few days later we found out that it was in her lymphnodes. Still we kept up the spirit that ok hopefully it hasn't gone past that. A few days pass and we find out that it is in more places. That its in her bones and her liver. Then the doctor says well it might be in the heart and the brain. I felt like my whole world was crashing down. That she had to go through all these tests and there wasn't anything I could do. I knew that it if it was in her brain she would not go through the chemo. So my family got together and did a prayer for her and just prayed for the best and for her to have the courage to fight this, no matter how much bad news we were given. The news came back it was not in her brain, heart or lungs. I think that was one of the best moments. All I could think was, Mom you can fight this and beat this. I can't imagine my mom not here, when I found out, (I know it's selfish) but I kept thinking what if she isn't here for all the things I want her front row and center in my life. So I decided that I would work as hard as I could to help her in any way I could. That I would hopefully be as strong as she needs me to be, that my siblings and I will always be there for her like she is for us. She is amazing, she has the best spirit. I know she gets down and is so tired but her attitude towards fighting it, is something that is teaching me to believe. So on that note...Mom,...you can fight this...you can beat this....
Patricia's Story
My life has been one of goal setting, but the biggest goal I ever set and achieved was battling breast cancer. I was diagnosed on April 1, 2003, not a very good April fools joke. I must not be as brave as others for this is definitely a hard story to share. The news of my diagnosis beat me home, which was hard to take, someone at the doctors office had leaked the news and my neighbor new of the test results before I. First goal was to tell my four children, which my husband did. I had a hard time facing them at first. Then the biggest goal - to beat this disease. I was diagnosed with stage IV breast cancer. So the months of chemo, surgery and radiation became daily realities. Just getting out of bed some days was almost more than I could handle. I had a ten year old daughter at the time and her world seemed to be okay if I was up before she caught the school bus in the morning and dressed when she returned home from school in the afternoon, this took all the energy that I could muster up on some days. My dad always said if something was worth having it was worth fighting for, and life is definitely worth having and therefore worth fighting for. The fight with this illness has made me a stronger person, ready to take on whatever the world has to dish out to me.
On the month of the fifth anniversary of my diagnosis, which was just this April, I asked my doctor if I was in remission, his reply, “Patty, you don’t put stage IV breast cancer in remission. You can say it is controlled.” Controlled means a monthly visit to the doctors office for a bone treatment to keep the disease at bay, as well as daily medicine therapy. With these treatments comes daily pain, a heart condition as a result of the chemo and a strong will to beat this illness. But the sum of the whole thing is that I am here. My desire to beat the cancer is still strong, the goal of rasing my children is almost completed. There are other goals however, that I have set and plan to accomplish. The desire to reach these goals and the dream of just being alive are still strong in my heart.
I have often told others of my fight with cancer, and know from where my strength came, from the prayers of my husband, children, father, sisters, and brothers, extended family, friends and a whole community, but mostly from the Lord. I could not have done it alone. To others I would say, that cancer is beatable today, people live through cancer and chemo in our day, my mother was diagnosis with leukemia in 1974 and died form the disease and chemo treatments in 1976. But in to days world people live through cancer and chemo and carry on. So for today my goal is still to beat this thing, and live out the rest of my goals and my dreams.
On the month of the fifth anniversary of my diagnosis, which was just this April, I asked my doctor if I was in remission, his reply, “Patty, you don’t put stage IV breast cancer in remission. You can say it is controlled.” Controlled means a monthly visit to the doctors office for a bone treatment to keep the disease at bay, as well as daily medicine therapy. With these treatments comes daily pain, a heart condition as a result of the chemo and a strong will to beat this illness. But the sum of the whole thing is that I am here. My desire to beat the cancer is still strong, the goal of rasing my children is almost completed. There are other goals however, that I have set and plan to accomplish. The desire to reach these goals and the dream of just being alive are still strong in my heart.
I have often told others of my fight with cancer, and know from where my strength came, from the prayers of my husband, children, father, sisters, and brothers, extended family, friends and a whole community, but mostly from the Lord. I could not have done it alone. To others I would say, that cancer is beatable today, people live through cancer and chemo in our day, my mother was diagnosis with leukemia in 1974 and died form the disease and chemo treatments in 1976. But in to days world people live through cancer and chemo and carry on. So for today my goal is still to beat this thing, and live out the rest of my goals and my dreams.
Kalli's Story
I think any woman diagnosed with breast cancer can clearly recall the day in which they were diagnosed. Each woman can tell you where they were when they received the "news", what the weather was like, who was with them and their first initial thoughts of the road that lay ahead. I am no different. It was July of 2007, and I was enjoying my first full summer of "retirement" with my two children Abigail age 3 and Maxwell age 14 months. The three of us were playing as hard as we could to enjoy mom being home all the time. My husband and I had decided some few months prior that I would quit my job to stay home with our two treasures. This was a big decision considering my job was the job that essentially supported our family. My husband did work, but only part time and was a full time student half way through the rigorous Doctor of Pharmacy program at the University of Utah. We rarely saw him with the demands of school and work, and my quitting my job could possibly mean we would see him even less if he needed to pick up extra hours work, but we both agreed this was the best scenario for our family. We were up for an adventure and were willing to take out a few extra student loans and live a little more meager than we were used to. We were definitely not up for the adventure that awaited us that 17th day of July.
I had gone to my primary care physician worried about a lump I had found in my left breast. The lump seemed to have gotten bigger over the past weeks. My doctor put my mind at ease by explaining it felt like a cyst---probably a milk duct that had not completely cleared out since I had stopped breast feeding some time ago. She ordered a mammogram and ultrasound and explained that the radiologist would be able to drain the cyst there at the exam and I should be able to continue with my summer of retirement. Cancer did not even cross my mind, why should it? I was a healthy 31 year old living out her dream of motherhood.
I was not thrilled to be having my first mammogram at age 31 and felt out of place sitting in the waiting room with several other women twice my age. I think my husband felt even stranger waiting with me. The ultrasound did not show a cyst and the radiologist opted for a needle biopsy. As he left to prepare for the biopsy, I started worrying about cancer and the real possibility I could have it. My thoughts raced and I wondered what we do if that was the case. Who would take care of my two children? Would my husband be able to complete his schooling and excel in the program he had worked 5 long years to get to this point? How would we be able to pay for such treatment? We only had the bare minimum insurance and surely cancer would not be a part of bare minimum insurance! Soon the biopsy was completed and I was sent home by the cold radiologist who said I would have to wait the weekend before hearing about any results. I was to wait three long days to hear whether I had cancer or not. It was excruciating. I had gone from carefree to freak out about the future.
Finally that Monday came and my husband and I were waiting inside the general surgeon’s office I was referred to. Over the last few days I had convinced myself that I could handle whatever was in store. I could overcome cancer! I could have surgery to have the lump removed and then still have plenty of summer left to enjoy with my family. Wrong. The surgeon did not waste time to tell me that I had stage III, estrogen positive breast cancer. My tumor was too big to remove at this time and I would have to start chemotherapy as soon as possible. I was stunned! The surgeon’s stories of hope and dreams of cure were mere mumbles to me. I was still trying to register the words, “you have cancer”.
The next two weeks were filled with CT scans, EKG’s and doctor’s visits in order to prepare for the 8 rounds of chemotherapy that I was to receive. Sometime in the middle of the preparations, I decided to myself that I could do this! I can do hard things and I can do them with a positive attitude. I can do hard things for my children and my hard working husband, and if I did, I would be successful.The first day of chemo was the hardest one of this journey. I was scared of what lie ahead, but I kept telling myself, “I can do hard things”! And I did! I had the full cancer experience while going through chemotherapy which included several hospitalizations and blood transfusions. I lost my hair in one day, but I had all my friends and family rally around me. I was doing hard things, and I was beating cancer. My best days were those when my two kids would climb in bed with me and lay their heads on my shoulders and just smile. It made the hard work towards survival worth it all!
My chemotherapy treatments ended just before Thanksgiving and I was quickly scheduled for a bi-lateral mastectomy the first week of December. I was scared, but ready to face to the next part of this hard journey. I managed to go into surgery with a smile and leave with a bigger smile. I was nearly there! I enjoyed the holidays and then worked up my courage once again to begin 35 treatments of radiation. Another hard part--daily treatment to kill cancer! I could do it! I made great friends and still had wonderful family and friends close by. My husband continued in his schooling and completed the hardest semester of the program with honors. We took out a few loans to make ends meet, but we were beating cancer! The day I finished my radiation, we had a celebration, but the best part of finishing was the feeling of love and accomplishment that I could do hard things! If I could make it this far, then I could do anything! My life can be anything I want it to be. Nothing is too hard!I
am currently undergoing physical therapy to help with the scarring and burning left on my left chest wall after surgery and radiation so that I can undergo reconstructive surgery. It’s really hard work, but again, I know I can do it. I can recover and be ready for whatever it takes to reconstruct and get myself back to feeling like a young mom and woman.
In order to celebrate those men and women who walked across the country to settle the state of Utah, I recently walked with 350 other youth, men and women from our neighborhood 27 miles. We pushed handcarts as our pioneers did and remembered their sacrifices for freedom that we now enjoy. It was really hard work! But I did it. I did with my left arm raised above my head to combat any effects of lymphedema that might occur with the heat and swelling. I hope I was an inspiration to those I went with that they too can do hard things. They can walk 27 hard, hot miles. They can overcome bad habits. They can beat any physical limitation. They can beat cancer and they can find a cure! We all can do hard things. It may not be the hard things that we plan for, but we still can overcome them all. The hard things that I have done and am doing have been the things that have made me a better person. A more determined person to fight for a long life and to live better. I can continue to do hard things and do them with an optimistic outlook. If we all strive to do hard things, we will find a cure to breast cancer. It will be hard, but it will happen.
I had gone to my primary care physician worried about a lump I had found in my left breast. The lump seemed to have gotten bigger over the past weeks. My doctor put my mind at ease by explaining it felt like a cyst---probably a milk duct that had not completely cleared out since I had stopped breast feeding some time ago. She ordered a mammogram and ultrasound and explained that the radiologist would be able to drain the cyst there at the exam and I should be able to continue with my summer of retirement. Cancer did not even cross my mind, why should it? I was a healthy 31 year old living out her dream of motherhood.
I was not thrilled to be having my first mammogram at age 31 and felt out of place sitting in the waiting room with several other women twice my age. I think my husband felt even stranger waiting with me. The ultrasound did not show a cyst and the radiologist opted for a needle biopsy. As he left to prepare for the biopsy, I started worrying about cancer and the real possibility I could have it. My thoughts raced and I wondered what we do if that was the case. Who would take care of my two children? Would my husband be able to complete his schooling and excel in the program he had worked 5 long years to get to this point? How would we be able to pay for such treatment? We only had the bare minimum insurance and surely cancer would not be a part of bare minimum insurance! Soon the biopsy was completed and I was sent home by the cold radiologist who said I would have to wait the weekend before hearing about any results. I was to wait three long days to hear whether I had cancer or not. It was excruciating. I had gone from carefree to freak out about the future.
Finally that Monday came and my husband and I were waiting inside the general surgeon’s office I was referred to. Over the last few days I had convinced myself that I could handle whatever was in store. I could overcome cancer! I could have surgery to have the lump removed and then still have plenty of summer left to enjoy with my family. Wrong. The surgeon did not waste time to tell me that I had stage III, estrogen positive breast cancer. My tumor was too big to remove at this time and I would have to start chemotherapy as soon as possible. I was stunned! The surgeon’s stories of hope and dreams of cure were mere mumbles to me. I was still trying to register the words, “you have cancer”.
The next two weeks were filled with CT scans, EKG’s and doctor’s visits in order to prepare for the 8 rounds of chemotherapy that I was to receive. Sometime in the middle of the preparations, I decided to myself that I could do this! I can do hard things and I can do them with a positive attitude. I can do hard things for my children and my hard working husband, and if I did, I would be successful.The first day of chemo was the hardest one of this journey. I was scared of what lie ahead, but I kept telling myself, “I can do hard things”! And I did! I had the full cancer experience while going through chemotherapy which included several hospitalizations and blood transfusions. I lost my hair in one day, but I had all my friends and family rally around me. I was doing hard things, and I was beating cancer. My best days were those when my two kids would climb in bed with me and lay their heads on my shoulders and just smile. It made the hard work towards survival worth it all!
My chemotherapy treatments ended just before Thanksgiving and I was quickly scheduled for a bi-lateral mastectomy the first week of December. I was scared, but ready to face to the next part of this hard journey. I managed to go into surgery with a smile and leave with a bigger smile. I was nearly there! I enjoyed the holidays and then worked up my courage once again to begin 35 treatments of radiation. Another hard part--daily treatment to kill cancer! I could do it! I made great friends and still had wonderful family and friends close by. My husband continued in his schooling and completed the hardest semester of the program with honors. We took out a few loans to make ends meet, but we were beating cancer! The day I finished my radiation, we had a celebration, but the best part of finishing was the feeling of love and accomplishment that I could do hard things! If I could make it this far, then I could do anything! My life can be anything I want it to be. Nothing is too hard!I
am currently undergoing physical therapy to help with the scarring and burning left on my left chest wall after surgery and radiation so that I can undergo reconstructive surgery. It’s really hard work, but again, I know I can do it. I can recover and be ready for whatever it takes to reconstruct and get myself back to feeling like a young mom and woman.
In order to celebrate those men and women who walked across the country to settle the state of Utah, I recently walked with 350 other youth, men and women from our neighborhood 27 miles. We pushed handcarts as our pioneers did and remembered their sacrifices for freedom that we now enjoy. It was really hard work! But I did it. I did with my left arm raised above my head to combat any effects of lymphedema that might occur with the heat and swelling. I hope I was an inspiration to those I went with that they too can do hard things. They can walk 27 hard, hot miles. They can overcome bad habits. They can beat any physical limitation. They can beat cancer and they can find a cure! We all can do hard things. It may not be the hard things that we plan for, but we still can overcome them all. The hard things that I have done and am doing have been the things that have made me a better person. A more determined person to fight for a long life and to live better. I can continue to do hard things and do them with an optimistic outlook. If we all strive to do hard things, we will find a cure to breast cancer. It will be hard, but it will happen.
Wendy's Story
Hi, my name is Wendy, I’m 37 years old and in May, 2008, I received the most shocking news of my life…Breast Cancer. Then in June 2008, the news became even more devastating, Stage IV Breast Cancer. Here is my story:
It all began in April when I found a lump on the side of my left breast. I thought to myself, “There is no way this can be what I think it is”, thus I chose to convince myself that it was nothing and it would go away. It had to. I am in the prime of my life, have a job I adore, the best family in the world and on top of all of that, I am healthy. Other than the occasional sniffle or seasonal allergy flare up, I’ve never been sick a day in my life. There is just no way this is cancer!! Another two weeks passed and the lump…well it was still there but again, it’ll go away – I’m not worried about it. A month passes, the lump is still there. I know I need to see a doctor but I just can’t – I don’t want to know. It wasn’t until one night, my husband, Jerry and I were going to bed and he put his arms around me to tell me good night and he too, felt the lump. I had not told him about it prior to this. “What’s that? That’s not natural” he said. At that moment, I realized I had to go to the doctor. There was no way he was going to allow me to wait another day. The next morning I made the dreaded appointment. I also decided to share my problem with my sister, Kim. We have a promise to each other – no secrets…ever, no matter how bad they might be.
I went to the local Breast Care Specialist, Dr. Henry. This was on Thursday before Memorial Day weekend. With fear in my heart, I walked in and within a few minutes I was undergoing my very first mammogram. Not so bad! The doctor then took me into an exam room, said the mammogram did not show anything but he wanted to do a physical breast exam. Once he felt the area of suspicion, he then decided an Ultrasound was needed. After the Ultrasound, he then advised he wanted to do a biopsy. Despite the fear and anxiety that I’m already feeling about possibly having cancer, I am terrified of needles. It took everything I had to hold it together. I survived the biopsy and was then was told the results would take about 2-3 days but since it was a holiday weekend, they wouldn’t know anything until Tuesday. How am I going to get through the weekend? Unfortunately, over that weekend, my grandfather who is my angel, my hero, suffered a heart attack. All I could think about was him and how I was going to tell him and my family if my results were not good. My family was already going through so much with my grandfather’s illness (heart and lung disease). I didn’t want to add to their worries.
The weekend passed. It was the longest weekend of my life. Tuesday came and the hours went by. I carried my phone with me everywhere waiting for the call. Finally later that afternoon, the phone rang and even though I didn’t want to answer it, I had to. My heart was racing, my body trembling. Dr. Henry spoke and all I heard was “It’s Cancer”. My entire body became numb and tears starting pouring. My employer knew what I had just heard and after lots of hugs from my boss and coworkers, he sent me home. My sister-in-law, Missy, who also works with me, was not about to let me be alone so she drove me home and stayed with me until my husband got there. On the way home, I stopped at my sister’s job to break the news to her. I had to do it in person. She took one look at me and she knew the news was not good. We embraced each other and neither of us wanted to let go. You see, my sister and I are so close that when one of us experiences something good or bad, so does the other one. We cried, we laughed a little and we promised each other that this was just a small bump in the road and we would get through it. I was devastated inside, but all I could think about was making sure my sister didn’t have cancer too….she doesn’t. What a relief. I also knew at this point that I had to at least tell my mom and dad I had cancer. Again, this is something I had to do in person and one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. They were both so supportive and they let me know they would be with me through this, every step of the way. I then decided that no one else could know right now. I had to deal with this myself before I told anyone else. I had no idea when or if I would tell another soul. Depending on my treatment, I may not tell them. I may be able to get through this without anyone else needing to know. There was no way my grandparents could find out. I was scared to death that if I told my grandfather, he would have another heart attack and I just couldn’t take that chance. There is no way I can lose him now. I have to be his rock.
A few days after being diagnosed, I revisited Dr. Henry to go over my options and to get scheduled for more tests – MRI, CT, X-rays and blood work. Oh nooooooo, more needles. Just thinking about needles makes me cry. It was going to be another two weeks before the tests could be done. During the weeks preceding the tests and the week following the tests, I had somewhat come to terms with the fact that I had cancer. It wasn’t going away and I had to deal with it. I had also convinced myself that it had to be early stages of cancer because the lump had not been there very long and I had just had a normal breast exam just a year prior. Dr. Henry had already told me that I would have to have a mastectomy, but you know what….that’s okay. You see, God did not bless me with a large chest – as a matter of fact, I have no chest. I’m going to go get my mastectomy with reconstruction and finally for the first time in my life, I will be able to wear a “big girl bra”. My sister and I even went shopping one weekend and we looked at big girl bras. It was so exciting and we had so much fun. We laughed and we ran around shopping like two teenagers out on our own for the very first time. Even though having cancer is terrible, at that moment I felt that at least something good would come of it and I had accepted the disease.
Finally, the day arrived that I would get the results of my tests and I could move forward with getting this little green monster they call “Cancer” out of my body. My husband and I went in, sat down in Dr. Henry’s office and we could not believe what we were hearing. What else could they tell me, right? Well they managed to give me more bad news. The MRI showed something in my liver and in my sinus cavity. Again, he could not say whether or not it was cancer but another test was needed and he sent me to an oncologist, Dr. Richards. They tell me he is the best. I was devastated – there was just no way. The test had to be wrong. I hoped and prayed it was just a benign cyst in my liver.On Friday, I went to see Dr. Richards. It was on this visit that once again, he gave me even more bad news – my cancer was HER2neu positive, meaning these HER2 cells were attaching them to my cancer, making the cancer more aggressive and making it spread much faster. I just wanted to die at that moment. I couldn’t take it anymore. I’m healthy, I’m strong and you are telling me I’m sick. I’m not sick – I don’t feel sick, I don’t look sick. I’m not sick!! Dr. Richards scheduled me to have a PET scan. It was going to be another few weeks before this scan could be done. You can’t imagine what was going through my head. They were telling me I have a very aggressive, fast moving cancer yet I have to wait another few weeks to get this test? I just wanted them to take the tumors out right then before they could spread anywhere else in my body. I had so many questions and I was just in a complete state of shock. I was still determined that I could not tell anyone else at this time. My husband, myself, my sister, my mom and my dad all had to walk around with big smiles on our face like nothing was happening but deep inside, we were all sharing the deepest, darkest secret of our lives.
I had the PET scan just a few days before I was scheduled to go on vacation. The results would be in while I was on vacation. Do I have them call me while I’m on vacation or do I wait? My husband was encouraging me to wait. Waiting a few extra days is not going to change the results. We can try and have a good time and put all of this behind us for a week or we can find out and if bad news, ruin the entire trip. On the other hand, I’m thinking it’s going to be good news which means we can have a great trip. Before I left, I also knew it was time to tell my grandparents. They deserved to know and I was so scared they would find out from someone other than me. I knew they would be overwhelmed but I also knew by now that I couldn’t hide my disease from them. With the HER2 cancer, I would have to have chemo – there is no other option for treatment. I’m going to lose my hair and probably be sick. I can’t hide this from my grandparents and the rest of our family. I told my grandparents and even though they were upset, they took the news well and were very supportive. I also allowed them to let others in our family know as well. I called my Aunt Diane for some needed support. She is a 10 year survivor of breast cancer and I knew if there was anyone that could talk me through this disease, it would be her. She’s been through it and knowing her story, I knew I could get through it as well. One day I too could be cured forever.
The next day after telling my grandparents, my worst fear happened. Remember when I told you that I didn’t want to tell my grandfather for fear that he would have another heart attack? Well he did. Even though my family assured me that my news was not the cause of his heart attack, no one was going to convince me otherwise. I was so upset. How could I have done this? I should have listened to my heart and not let anyone convince me to tell him. It took several days, but once I knew he was going to be okay, I realized that it wasn’t me that caused his heart attack. He is doing good now and is one of my biggest supporters.
I went on my vacation and had the time of my life. This vacation was spent with my husband, boss and coworkers. My employer takes us on a trip every two years and it was much needed. It was a good way to take my mind off of what was going on for a few days. By the way, I opted not to get my test results until I came home. I had an appointment on Monday after I returned home to visit Dr. Richards.
Myself, my husband and my sister went to Dr. Richards office on that bright, sunny Monday morning. I just knew I was going to get good news. Dr. Richards came in and after a little chit-chat; the words came out of his mouth. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but the news is not good. I’m 100% positive that the cancer has metastasized into your liver. I can’t cure your cancer, but I can treat it”. I looked at him and said “I feel like you just gave me my death sentence”. All he could say was “I’m sorry”. I asked him how long I had and he replied that he did not know. He felt he could put me into remission for perhaps a year or two and then from there we would just keep fighting it. The three of us cried our eyes out, sat and listened as Dr. Richards explained my treatment options. I just couldn’t believe what I was hearing – not only do I have breast cancer, but I have HER2neu positive breast cancer and it has metastasized into my liver – Stage IV. We opted to try a new treatment, a new clinical trial that has never been tried in my area. I would be put on Abraxane (chemotherapy medication) and Lapatinib medication to treat the HER2 cells. My treatment would begin immediately. What about my surgery? I wanted to know when they were going to remove the green monsters inside my breast and liver. Then came another blow. Dr. Richards explained that they would not be doing surgery. There was no need to do the surgery right now. He is hoping the treatment will shrink or completely remove the tumors. Now I’m not going to get my big girl bras.
My treatment started and I’m 4 weeks in. One the first day of treatment, I had the port put in and immediately following, I received my first dose of poison. I go once a week for 3 weeks, and then I get a week off. I have a total of 24 treatments to endure. My mom goes with me weekly and sits with me through my treatment. She is my “Chemo Buddy”. Treatment has definitely not been a picnic. After my first treatment, I did become sick, nauseated, tired and anxious. The second week was wonderful. I took my treatment, no nausea, I wasn’t tired – hey, maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad after all, other than eventually losing my hair. My 3rd week came, I did okay but within a few days, my world started crumbling. I was throwing up, exhausted, I had excruciating pain in my legs, my face was breaking out, I had ulcers in my mouth, etc... This was the beginning of my hell. I couldn’t work; I could hardly get out of bed. I was miserable. The insurance company was not approving much needed medications that Dr. Richards had ordered to treat the nausea and loss of energy. So far it is taking them weeks to approve anything for me and some things are not getting approved because they say there are less expensive medications out there that will work just as well. We have tried those – sometimes they work, sometimes they don’t. I just do not have the financial means to purchase these medications out of my own pocket. Some of them are in excess of $300. Dr. Richards continues to be my advocate and fight with the insurance company. After an entire week of feeling lifeless, my husband called the doctor and made me go to the hospital. I went in, Dr. Richards looked at me and said “Oh no – something’s not right”. He told us that so far, I’m the only one on this regime of treatment that has had this many side effects. I think I’ve had every single side effect listed on the warnings. I was severely dehydrated, had a rash all over my body and my mouth still filled with ulcers. I hadn’t eaten in over a week. So far I’ve lost 19 pounds since beginning treatment. I was hurting all over and worst of all; my hair is now starting to thin very bad and very fast. Dr. Richards said I needed to be admitted so I could get IV fluids but I am scared of hospitals and did not want to stay over. He agreed to give me the IV fluids that day but I had to promise to come back the next two days to receive more.
It’s been about a week since I felt so bad and now I am feeling much better. The ulcers are clearing up, my face is still broken out, I still have a rash and my hair continues to thin, but I can eat!!! Oh man, have I wanted to eat but just couldn’t because of the ulcers and everything was just making me nauseated. I feel 5000 times better. Dr. Richards is decreasing my Lapatinib dosage and we will see how that goes. I go for my 4th treatment on July 31.
The next hurdle I had to face was the loss of my hair. I knew going into treatment that this would be the absolute lowest point of my treatment. I had tried to prepare myself in every possible way but until you actually see your hair in clumps in your hand, there is NO way to really prepare yourself mentally. I knew it was time to let it go when I found myself not wanting to shower because I knew it would come out even more. After tons of tears and talking it over with my husband, I decided it was time. It was time to just shave it off and get it over with. My husband decided to take on the task of shaving it for me so that we could deal with it and cry about it in the privacy of our own home. The whole time he was shaving my head he was telling me how beautiful I was. I have the most wonderful husband in the whole wide world. My Aunt Diane was there as well. After it was done, she held me tight and with tears filling her eyes, she told me it would be okay and now we needed to focus on the big picture and beat the cancer. My family and friends have purchased a human hair wig for me. My hairdresser and friend, Kelly, has cut it, styled it and colored it to make it look almost like my natural hair. Without my friends, family and Kelly, there is no way I could get through what I was about to face. With the medical bills starting to roll in, even after insurance has paid, there was no way I could have afforded this hair piece.
I am so grateful. I am going to continue my fight. I’m going to beat this thing. There is no way I’m going to let it beat me. I am a Survivor – To – Be!!! I’ve already survived the hardest part, facing the fact that I have cancer. Though this is a hard lesson in life, it has opened my eyes. I know more than ever that my family and friends are the most important things in life. We take so much for granted everyday. If I have a message for everyone out there, it would be to cherish everything and everyone in your life and as the old saying goes, live every day to the fullest. I would tell those going through what I'm going through to stay strong and keep up your fight. I realize that there is no cure for me (for now), but like the local Cancer Center commercial states – no one has tattooed an expiration date anywhere on my body – I’m a survivor. I will prevail. My life is in God’s hands and he will lead me down the road I’m meant to follow. Everything happens for a reason and even though I don’t know the reason this has happened to me, some day I’ll find out. Maybe it happened to me so I can help someone else someday – I can tell my story as I’m doing today and help someone else get through the trials and tribulations of fighting cancer.
I want to thank my family, my friends and my doctors for being there for me. Dr. Richards has been the most caring, understanding, gentle doctor ever. My family and friends have showered me with thoughts, prayers, cards, gifts, hugs and kisses. I’ve even received gifts and cards from people who have never layed eyes on me. I have realized that there are so many good people in this world. I want to be able to give back the support and love that has been given to me over these last few months. I know the financial burden will soon start weighing on me and my family. I don’t qualify for assistance outside of my insurance. Just 2 months in and the medical bills are starting to get overwhelming but I’m going to keep my chin up and try not to let this get me down anymore. I am worried. I want to make sure my doctors are paid. They deserve it but I can only do what I can do. It may take me 50 years to pay them, but I will. This gift you are giving is amazing. It would certainly help as I continue my journey through fighting cancer.
It all began in April when I found a lump on the side of my left breast. I thought to myself, “There is no way this can be what I think it is”, thus I chose to convince myself that it was nothing and it would go away. It had to. I am in the prime of my life, have a job I adore, the best family in the world and on top of all of that, I am healthy. Other than the occasional sniffle or seasonal allergy flare up, I’ve never been sick a day in my life. There is just no way this is cancer!! Another two weeks passed and the lump…well it was still there but again, it’ll go away – I’m not worried about it. A month passes, the lump is still there. I know I need to see a doctor but I just can’t – I don’t want to know. It wasn’t until one night, my husband, Jerry and I were going to bed and he put his arms around me to tell me good night and he too, felt the lump. I had not told him about it prior to this. “What’s that? That’s not natural” he said. At that moment, I realized I had to go to the doctor. There was no way he was going to allow me to wait another day. The next morning I made the dreaded appointment. I also decided to share my problem with my sister, Kim. We have a promise to each other – no secrets…ever, no matter how bad they might be.
I went to the local Breast Care Specialist, Dr. Henry. This was on Thursday before Memorial Day weekend. With fear in my heart, I walked in and within a few minutes I was undergoing my very first mammogram. Not so bad! The doctor then took me into an exam room, said the mammogram did not show anything but he wanted to do a physical breast exam. Once he felt the area of suspicion, he then decided an Ultrasound was needed. After the Ultrasound, he then advised he wanted to do a biopsy. Despite the fear and anxiety that I’m already feeling about possibly having cancer, I am terrified of needles. It took everything I had to hold it together. I survived the biopsy and was then was told the results would take about 2-3 days but since it was a holiday weekend, they wouldn’t know anything until Tuesday. How am I going to get through the weekend? Unfortunately, over that weekend, my grandfather who is my angel, my hero, suffered a heart attack. All I could think about was him and how I was going to tell him and my family if my results were not good. My family was already going through so much with my grandfather’s illness (heart and lung disease). I didn’t want to add to their worries.
The weekend passed. It was the longest weekend of my life. Tuesday came and the hours went by. I carried my phone with me everywhere waiting for the call. Finally later that afternoon, the phone rang and even though I didn’t want to answer it, I had to. My heart was racing, my body trembling. Dr. Henry spoke and all I heard was “It’s Cancer”. My entire body became numb and tears starting pouring. My employer knew what I had just heard and after lots of hugs from my boss and coworkers, he sent me home. My sister-in-law, Missy, who also works with me, was not about to let me be alone so she drove me home and stayed with me until my husband got there. On the way home, I stopped at my sister’s job to break the news to her. I had to do it in person. She took one look at me and she knew the news was not good. We embraced each other and neither of us wanted to let go. You see, my sister and I are so close that when one of us experiences something good or bad, so does the other one. We cried, we laughed a little and we promised each other that this was just a small bump in the road and we would get through it. I was devastated inside, but all I could think about was making sure my sister didn’t have cancer too….she doesn’t. What a relief. I also knew at this point that I had to at least tell my mom and dad I had cancer. Again, this is something I had to do in person and one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. They were both so supportive and they let me know they would be with me through this, every step of the way. I then decided that no one else could know right now. I had to deal with this myself before I told anyone else. I had no idea when or if I would tell another soul. Depending on my treatment, I may not tell them. I may be able to get through this without anyone else needing to know. There was no way my grandparents could find out. I was scared to death that if I told my grandfather, he would have another heart attack and I just couldn’t take that chance. There is no way I can lose him now. I have to be his rock.
A few days after being diagnosed, I revisited Dr. Henry to go over my options and to get scheduled for more tests – MRI, CT, X-rays and blood work. Oh nooooooo, more needles. Just thinking about needles makes me cry. It was going to be another two weeks before the tests could be done. During the weeks preceding the tests and the week following the tests, I had somewhat come to terms with the fact that I had cancer. It wasn’t going away and I had to deal with it. I had also convinced myself that it had to be early stages of cancer because the lump had not been there very long and I had just had a normal breast exam just a year prior. Dr. Henry had already told me that I would have to have a mastectomy, but you know what….that’s okay. You see, God did not bless me with a large chest – as a matter of fact, I have no chest. I’m going to go get my mastectomy with reconstruction and finally for the first time in my life, I will be able to wear a “big girl bra”. My sister and I even went shopping one weekend and we looked at big girl bras. It was so exciting and we had so much fun. We laughed and we ran around shopping like two teenagers out on our own for the very first time. Even though having cancer is terrible, at that moment I felt that at least something good would come of it and I had accepted the disease.
Finally, the day arrived that I would get the results of my tests and I could move forward with getting this little green monster they call “Cancer” out of my body. My husband and I went in, sat down in Dr. Henry’s office and we could not believe what we were hearing. What else could they tell me, right? Well they managed to give me more bad news. The MRI showed something in my liver and in my sinus cavity. Again, he could not say whether or not it was cancer but another test was needed and he sent me to an oncologist, Dr. Richards. They tell me he is the best. I was devastated – there was just no way. The test had to be wrong. I hoped and prayed it was just a benign cyst in my liver.On Friday, I went to see Dr. Richards. It was on this visit that once again, he gave me even more bad news – my cancer was HER2neu positive, meaning these HER2 cells were attaching them to my cancer, making the cancer more aggressive and making it spread much faster. I just wanted to die at that moment. I couldn’t take it anymore. I’m healthy, I’m strong and you are telling me I’m sick. I’m not sick – I don’t feel sick, I don’t look sick. I’m not sick!! Dr. Richards scheduled me to have a PET scan. It was going to be another few weeks before this scan could be done. You can’t imagine what was going through my head. They were telling me I have a very aggressive, fast moving cancer yet I have to wait another few weeks to get this test? I just wanted them to take the tumors out right then before they could spread anywhere else in my body. I had so many questions and I was just in a complete state of shock. I was still determined that I could not tell anyone else at this time. My husband, myself, my sister, my mom and my dad all had to walk around with big smiles on our face like nothing was happening but deep inside, we were all sharing the deepest, darkest secret of our lives.
I had the PET scan just a few days before I was scheduled to go on vacation. The results would be in while I was on vacation. Do I have them call me while I’m on vacation or do I wait? My husband was encouraging me to wait. Waiting a few extra days is not going to change the results. We can try and have a good time and put all of this behind us for a week or we can find out and if bad news, ruin the entire trip. On the other hand, I’m thinking it’s going to be good news which means we can have a great trip. Before I left, I also knew it was time to tell my grandparents. They deserved to know and I was so scared they would find out from someone other than me. I knew they would be overwhelmed but I also knew by now that I couldn’t hide my disease from them. With the HER2 cancer, I would have to have chemo – there is no other option for treatment. I’m going to lose my hair and probably be sick. I can’t hide this from my grandparents and the rest of our family. I told my grandparents and even though they were upset, they took the news well and were very supportive. I also allowed them to let others in our family know as well. I called my Aunt Diane for some needed support. She is a 10 year survivor of breast cancer and I knew if there was anyone that could talk me through this disease, it would be her. She’s been through it and knowing her story, I knew I could get through it as well. One day I too could be cured forever.
The next day after telling my grandparents, my worst fear happened. Remember when I told you that I didn’t want to tell my grandfather for fear that he would have another heart attack? Well he did. Even though my family assured me that my news was not the cause of his heart attack, no one was going to convince me otherwise. I was so upset. How could I have done this? I should have listened to my heart and not let anyone convince me to tell him. It took several days, but once I knew he was going to be okay, I realized that it wasn’t me that caused his heart attack. He is doing good now and is one of my biggest supporters.
I went on my vacation and had the time of my life. This vacation was spent with my husband, boss and coworkers. My employer takes us on a trip every two years and it was much needed. It was a good way to take my mind off of what was going on for a few days. By the way, I opted not to get my test results until I came home. I had an appointment on Monday after I returned home to visit Dr. Richards.
Myself, my husband and my sister went to Dr. Richards office on that bright, sunny Monday morning. I just knew I was going to get good news. Dr. Richards came in and after a little chit-chat; the words came out of his mouth. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but the news is not good. I’m 100% positive that the cancer has metastasized into your liver. I can’t cure your cancer, but I can treat it”. I looked at him and said “I feel like you just gave me my death sentence”. All he could say was “I’m sorry”. I asked him how long I had and he replied that he did not know. He felt he could put me into remission for perhaps a year or two and then from there we would just keep fighting it. The three of us cried our eyes out, sat and listened as Dr. Richards explained my treatment options. I just couldn’t believe what I was hearing – not only do I have breast cancer, but I have HER2neu positive breast cancer and it has metastasized into my liver – Stage IV. We opted to try a new treatment, a new clinical trial that has never been tried in my area. I would be put on Abraxane (chemotherapy medication) and Lapatinib medication to treat the HER2 cells. My treatment would begin immediately. What about my surgery? I wanted to know when they were going to remove the green monsters inside my breast and liver. Then came another blow. Dr. Richards explained that they would not be doing surgery. There was no need to do the surgery right now. He is hoping the treatment will shrink or completely remove the tumors. Now I’m not going to get my big girl bras.
My treatment started and I’m 4 weeks in. One the first day of treatment, I had the port put in and immediately following, I received my first dose of poison. I go once a week for 3 weeks, and then I get a week off. I have a total of 24 treatments to endure. My mom goes with me weekly and sits with me through my treatment. She is my “Chemo Buddy”. Treatment has definitely not been a picnic. After my first treatment, I did become sick, nauseated, tired and anxious. The second week was wonderful. I took my treatment, no nausea, I wasn’t tired – hey, maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad after all, other than eventually losing my hair. My 3rd week came, I did okay but within a few days, my world started crumbling. I was throwing up, exhausted, I had excruciating pain in my legs, my face was breaking out, I had ulcers in my mouth, etc... This was the beginning of my hell. I couldn’t work; I could hardly get out of bed. I was miserable. The insurance company was not approving much needed medications that Dr. Richards had ordered to treat the nausea and loss of energy. So far it is taking them weeks to approve anything for me and some things are not getting approved because they say there are less expensive medications out there that will work just as well. We have tried those – sometimes they work, sometimes they don’t. I just do not have the financial means to purchase these medications out of my own pocket. Some of them are in excess of $300. Dr. Richards continues to be my advocate and fight with the insurance company. After an entire week of feeling lifeless, my husband called the doctor and made me go to the hospital. I went in, Dr. Richards looked at me and said “Oh no – something’s not right”. He told us that so far, I’m the only one on this regime of treatment that has had this many side effects. I think I’ve had every single side effect listed on the warnings. I was severely dehydrated, had a rash all over my body and my mouth still filled with ulcers. I hadn’t eaten in over a week. So far I’ve lost 19 pounds since beginning treatment. I was hurting all over and worst of all; my hair is now starting to thin very bad and very fast. Dr. Richards said I needed to be admitted so I could get IV fluids but I am scared of hospitals and did not want to stay over. He agreed to give me the IV fluids that day but I had to promise to come back the next two days to receive more.
It’s been about a week since I felt so bad and now I am feeling much better. The ulcers are clearing up, my face is still broken out, I still have a rash and my hair continues to thin, but I can eat!!! Oh man, have I wanted to eat but just couldn’t because of the ulcers and everything was just making me nauseated. I feel 5000 times better. Dr. Richards is decreasing my Lapatinib dosage and we will see how that goes. I go for my 4th treatment on July 31.
The next hurdle I had to face was the loss of my hair. I knew going into treatment that this would be the absolute lowest point of my treatment. I had tried to prepare myself in every possible way but until you actually see your hair in clumps in your hand, there is NO way to really prepare yourself mentally. I knew it was time to let it go when I found myself not wanting to shower because I knew it would come out even more. After tons of tears and talking it over with my husband, I decided it was time. It was time to just shave it off and get it over with. My husband decided to take on the task of shaving it for me so that we could deal with it and cry about it in the privacy of our own home. The whole time he was shaving my head he was telling me how beautiful I was. I have the most wonderful husband in the whole wide world. My Aunt Diane was there as well. After it was done, she held me tight and with tears filling her eyes, she told me it would be okay and now we needed to focus on the big picture and beat the cancer. My family and friends have purchased a human hair wig for me. My hairdresser and friend, Kelly, has cut it, styled it and colored it to make it look almost like my natural hair. Without my friends, family and Kelly, there is no way I could get through what I was about to face. With the medical bills starting to roll in, even after insurance has paid, there was no way I could have afforded this hair piece.
I am so grateful. I am going to continue my fight. I’m going to beat this thing. There is no way I’m going to let it beat me. I am a Survivor – To – Be!!! I’ve already survived the hardest part, facing the fact that I have cancer. Though this is a hard lesson in life, it has opened my eyes. I know more than ever that my family and friends are the most important things in life. We take so much for granted everyday. If I have a message for everyone out there, it would be to cherish everything and everyone in your life and as the old saying goes, live every day to the fullest. I would tell those going through what I'm going through to stay strong and keep up your fight. I realize that there is no cure for me (for now), but like the local Cancer Center commercial states – no one has tattooed an expiration date anywhere on my body – I’m a survivor. I will prevail. My life is in God’s hands and he will lead me down the road I’m meant to follow. Everything happens for a reason and even though I don’t know the reason this has happened to me, some day I’ll find out. Maybe it happened to me so I can help someone else someday – I can tell my story as I’m doing today and help someone else get through the trials and tribulations of fighting cancer.
I want to thank my family, my friends and my doctors for being there for me. Dr. Richards has been the most caring, understanding, gentle doctor ever. My family and friends have showered me with thoughts, prayers, cards, gifts, hugs and kisses. I’ve even received gifts and cards from people who have never layed eyes on me. I have realized that there are so many good people in this world. I want to be able to give back the support and love that has been given to me over these last few months. I know the financial burden will soon start weighing on me and my family. I don’t qualify for assistance outside of my insurance. Just 2 months in and the medical bills are starting to get overwhelming but I’m going to keep my chin up and try not to let this get me down anymore. I am worried. I want to make sure my doctors are paid. They deserve it but I can only do what I can do. It may take me 50 years to pay them, but I will. This gift you are giving is amazing. It would certainly help as I continue my journey through fighting cancer.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
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.
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.
Dee's Story
My name is Dee and this is My Journey of Faith, Courage and Love Shrouded by Fear.
As I reflect over this past year, I wonder how I ever managed to get through all of the trials and procedures facing me. My journey was filled with faith, courage and the loving support of my husband, friends, doctors, nurses and technicians. However, along this journey there was also fear. It all started in August of 2007 when a co-worker began telling me of a type of breast cancer I had never heard of before."
It is very hard to detect and the signs are not the same as normal breast cancer." Those words began the fear that followed me for quite some time. Inflammatory Breast Cancer - what is that? My two sisters had breast cancer years ago and both are survivors. But there are not normal lumps to feel with Inflammatory Breast Cancer. I wanted to rush home from work to check my breasts. The last mammogram I had was 2 1/2 years prior. Caring for my husband who became terminal with a serious liver disease 7 years before and working full time had become priorities in my life. My husband and I were married for 42 years. He had no idea of the year that was to come.
That evening I looked carefully. I was never very good with self-exams, although I did them from time to time. Tonight, this was different. There was a dent underneath the right breast. I can't remember seeing this before. I didn't notice the swollen redness that was there. Along with the dent, my nipple was wrinkled. Is that normal I thought. Without hesitation, an appointment was made for a mammogram.
Previously, about 4 or 5 years ago, I had 2 needle biopsies, one in each breast. It was benign. So when the technician took some time to come back into the exam room, I knew there was a problem. Trying not to worry a second mammogram was taken of the right breast. And again I waited, feeling the fear grow.
By the time I got to work, I had numerous telephone calls waiting for me from my physician to set up a needle biopsy appointment. And it was confirmed. I had Inflammatory Breast Cancer. An appointment with my oncologist was immediately set; my doctor explaing the detailed treatment that was to be done; i.e. the types of chemotherapy; the length of the treatments; and what to expect - fatigue, hair loss, depression, etc. The "BIG" guns of chemo was about to begin. I felt unusally at ease, feeling at "home" at the cancer cancer, feeling the loving concern for the entire person. This was half the battle.
My husband, daughter, and a very close girlfriend were all extremely helpful and encouraging as they took care of me. My daughter shaved my head as I did not want to face clumps of hair falling out. To show their support, my husband and son proceeded to shave their heads. Words cannot express the excellent treatment I received from my doctor and nurses as they carefully watched my blood count and provided the necessary medications. After I was given the first shot to build up my white blood count, I found myself in the emergency room from the excruciating pain in my chest. I thought I was having a heart attack. I soon learned what I needed to do to relieve the pain and continue with my treatments. Although I was extremely fatigued, the encouragement I received from the team at the oncologist center, my friends, cards full of kind words from those I served at my place of employment continued to strenghten me. But most of all, my husband who never missed a treatment, test, or doctor's visit.
About 2 months after my chemo treatments, I scheduled my surgery with mixed emotions. I thought - maybe I don't need the surgery. The signs of the cancer were gone due to the chemo treatments. As I waited during the 2 months for my blood to build up for the surgery, the skin on my breast began to look like the skin of an orange again. As the fear shrouded my life, one could see the horrendous strength of Inflammatory Breast Cancer as it began to strike back.
The mastectomy left me with two large drainage tubes where my breast used to be. Can this really be happening to me. My daughter, Lydia, and close friend, Carol helped me to relax and let the process of healing continue. The time soon came in March for the radiation treatments to start. Again, I found myself surrounded by doctors, technicians and personnel who cared for the entire person. As I went every day, I wondered why they continued to encourage me. They marveled at how well I was doing which made my smile grow wider. The last 5 treatments, which were the strongest and aimed at the incision site, made my skin begin to break down and develop large open burns. An assortment of creams were used 2 -3 times a day. My healing was slow but it DID heal.
I would like to say that the cancer center and radiation center gives extreme support to cancer patients and survivors. They have sponsored luncheons and programs like "Look Good, Feel Better" which builds confidence, esteem, and courage to all. My best advice is to seek out these programs and share your experience which will not only build you up but also encourage others.
I am currently having hormone therapy as preventive medicine to deter any new signs of cancer. The fear lingers in the back of my mind, but I am determined not to let it stop me from leading my life as I did before. My husband and I am active in our faith which has sustained me through this ordeal. I have always felt that when you are faced with a trial and/or tragedy, it is important in the healing process to find and use the positive side to help others. I encourage ALL women to regularly do self-exams, get the mammograms, and follow thru with whatever treatment you and your doctor decide on. Whatever I can do to help the cause of fighting this disease, I will do. I will continue to talk to anyone who will listen about the symptoms of Inflammatory Breast Cancer.
At the end of January, I resumed my secular work with anticipation hoping my strength would hold up. I am so fortunate to have an employer who allowed whatever was needed; rest periods, doctor visits, and emotional and spiritual encouragement.
My greatest challenge is yet ahead. That is to continue to be strong and support my husband in his fight against his newly diagnosed lung cancer.
As I reflect over this past year, I wonder how I ever managed to get through all of the trials and procedures facing me. My journey was filled with faith, courage and the loving support of my husband, friends, doctors, nurses and technicians. However, along this journey there was also fear. It all started in August of 2007 when a co-worker began telling me of a type of breast cancer I had never heard of before."
It is very hard to detect and the signs are not the same as normal breast cancer." Those words began the fear that followed me for quite some time. Inflammatory Breast Cancer - what is that? My two sisters had breast cancer years ago and both are survivors. But there are not normal lumps to feel with Inflammatory Breast Cancer. I wanted to rush home from work to check my breasts. The last mammogram I had was 2 1/2 years prior. Caring for my husband who became terminal with a serious liver disease 7 years before and working full time had become priorities in my life. My husband and I were married for 42 years. He had no idea of the year that was to come.
That evening I looked carefully. I was never very good with self-exams, although I did them from time to time. Tonight, this was different. There was a dent underneath the right breast. I can't remember seeing this before. I didn't notice the swollen redness that was there. Along with the dent, my nipple was wrinkled. Is that normal I thought. Without hesitation, an appointment was made for a mammogram.
Previously, about 4 or 5 years ago, I had 2 needle biopsies, one in each breast. It was benign. So when the technician took some time to come back into the exam room, I knew there was a problem. Trying not to worry a second mammogram was taken of the right breast. And again I waited, feeling the fear grow.
By the time I got to work, I had numerous telephone calls waiting for me from my physician to set up a needle biopsy appointment. And it was confirmed. I had Inflammatory Breast Cancer. An appointment with my oncologist was immediately set; my doctor explaing the detailed treatment that was to be done; i.e. the types of chemotherapy; the length of the treatments; and what to expect - fatigue, hair loss, depression, etc. The "BIG" guns of chemo was about to begin. I felt unusally at ease, feeling at "home" at the cancer cancer, feeling the loving concern for the entire person. This was half the battle.
My husband, daughter, and a very close girlfriend were all extremely helpful and encouraging as they took care of me. My daughter shaved my head as I did not want to face clumps of hair falling out. To show their support, my husband and son proceeded to shave their heads. Words cannot express the excellent treatment I received from my doctor and nurses as they carefully watched my blood count and provided the necessary medications. After I was given the first shot to build up my white blood count, I found myself in the emergency room from the excruciating pain in my chest. I thought I was having a heart attack. I soon learned what I needed to do to relieve the pain and continue with my treatments. Although I was extremely fatigued, the encouragement I received from the team at the oncologist center, my friends, cards full of kind words from those I served at my place of employment continued to strenghten me. But most of all, my husband who never missed a treatment, test, or doctor's visit.
About 2 months after my chemo treatments, I scheduled my surgery with mixed emotions. I thought - maybe I don't need the surgery. The signs of the cancer were gone due to the chemo treatments. As I waited during the 2 months for my blood to build up for the surgery, the skin on my breast began to look like the skin of an orange again. As the fear shrouded my life, one could see the horrendous strength of Inflammatory Breast Cancer as it began to strike back.
The mastectomy left me with two large drainage tubes where my breast used to be. Can this really be happening to me. My daughter, Lydia, and close friend, Carol helped me to relax and let the process of healing continue. The time soon came in March for the radiation treatments to start. Again, I found myself surrounded by doctors, technicians and personnel who cared for the entire person. As I went every day, I wondered why they continued to encourage me. They marveled at how well I was doing which made my smile grow wider. The last 5 treatments, which were the strongest and aimed at the incision site, made my skin begin to break down and develop large open burns. An assortment of creams were used 2 -3 times a day. My healing was slow but it DID heal.
I would like to say that the cancer center and radiation center gives extreme support to cancer patients and survivors. They have sponsored luncheons and programs like "Look Good, Feel Better" which builds confidence, esteem, and courage to all. My best advice is to seek out these programs and share your experience which will not only build you up but also encourage others.
I am currently having hormone therapy as preventive medicine to deter any new signs of cancer. The fear lingers in the back of my mind, but I am determined not to let it stop me from leading my life as I did before. My husband and I am active in our faith which has sustained me through this ordeal. I have always felt that when you are faced with a trial and/or tragedy, it is important in the healing process to find and use the positive side to help others. I encourage ALL women to regularly do self-exams, get the mammograms, and follow thru with whatever treatment you and your doctor decide on. Whatever I can do to help the cause of fighting this disease, I will do. I will continue to talk to anyone who will listen about the symptoms of Inflammatory Breast Cancer.
At the end of January, I resumed my secular work with anticipation hoping my strength would hold up. I am so fortunate to have an employer who allowed whatever was needed; rest periods, doctor visits, and emotional and spiritual encouragement.
My greatest challenge is yet ahead. That is to continue to be strong and support my husband in his fight against his newly diagnosed lung cancer.
Amber's Story
I will never forget that day when I heard the words, "We believe you have an aggressive form of breast cancer called Inflammatory Breast Cancer." The words themselves were not a surprise, but the feelings of dread and overwhelming grief were. You see, I had suspected for months that I had breast cancer. Because this form of cancer was so rare, many doctors don't recognize it because they haven't seen it. I had read about it on the internet and had many of the symptoms. I was worried that I had it, yet wasn't diagnosed until a year after my symptoms started. I was a 27 year old mother of 5 who was breast feeding her 4 month old baby. So in early June 2006 when my right breast turned red, hard, and swollen, I was told I had mastitis. I was put on antibiotics, but they didn't help. I ended up in the ER with IV antibiotics. My symptoms were relieved a little bit, but never went all the way away. I was unable to breastfeed with my right breast because it was too painful. Months went by and my right breast continued to grow larger. I returned to my OB-GYN, and was told that I was engorged with milk. I accepted his explanation, and more time passed.
Six months passed from the onset of my breast problems, and I began to have severe pain in my hip and back. From January-March 2007 I visited a chiropractor, an orthopedic surgeon, and a physical therapist. I did physical therapy, had a steroid injection, did a few weeks of spinal decompression and electrode therapy, and yet my pain continued to get worse. I could hardly walk, couldn't lift my one year old baby, couldn't bend.
At the same time I was having this pain in my back and hip, I was still concerned about my breast. I went back to my OB-GYN, and was once again told that my breast was just engorged with milk. This just didn't seem right to me, because I hadn't had any milk come out of my right breast in 6 months. I was still breastfeeding with my left breast, but my right breast was much larger than my left. Still, I trusted my doctor.
In March-April 2007 my breast began to change even more. It had a mottled purple look, and the skin became really thick and looked like the skin of an orange. My nipple turned yellow, and inverted. I was very concerned. One night I was searching the internet to see if I could figure out what was going on with my breast. I stumbled upon a website about inflammatory breast cancer, also called IBC. IBC is a rare, but very aggressive form of breast cancer. It accounts for between only 1-5% of breast cancer. It usually spreads in nests or sheets in the breast, rather than a lump. It is often misdiagnosed as mastitis. The more I read on this site, the more I felt this deep dread and fear inside. I was sure that this is exactly what I had!
The next morning I called my OB-GYN and requested that I be seen that same day. I brought with me a print out of the symptoms of IBC. I told my doctor that I was worried that I had IBC, and he said, "I have been practicing for 20 years, and I have only seen 1 case of inflammatory breast cancer, and you don't have it."Of course I was relieved that my doctor didn't think I had IBC, but I was still concerned about all of the changes in my breast. So, the doctor told me, "I am 99.9% sure it is nothing, but for your peace of mind I will refer you to a surgeon."The first surgeon I saw just glanced at my breast, but didn't think anything serious was going on. He sent me for an ultrasound. The ultrasound result came back as "normal breast tissue", even though by this time, there was a baseball size mass in my breast. I just couldn't understand how this could be!
Luckily, my sister-in-law is an OR nurse. She had heard about my breast issues, and she referred me to a different surgeon who has had a lot of experience with breast cancer. This second surgeon was very concerned when he saw my breast. He had me scheduled for a mammogram the following day.
Film after film after film was taken during my mammogram. I was beginning to get worried. Then I was taken for another ultrasound of my breast. That is when the radiologist came in to do the ultrasound herself. She was able to see enlarged lymph nodes. She showed me the films from my mammogram, which showed cancer sprinkled like sugar all over in the supposed "normal breast tissue". That is when I heard those words, "We believe you have an aggressive form of breast cancer called Inflammatory Breast Cancer."
For a moment, time stood still. And the next moment, my world had changed. The next week was a whirlwind of tests, doctors appointments, biopsies, port placement surgery, more tests, more appointments. The test results did indeed come back as inflammatory breast cancer that had metastasized to my bones and right lung. I had lesions on my skull, ribs, spine, femur, pelvis, and hip and shoulder joints. That was what was causing all of my pain. I felt relieved on one hand to know the cause of my pain, but so frustrated on the other hand. If my OB-GYN had been more proactive, more aware, we could have caught the cancer sooner.
Women need to be more aware of this form of breast cancer, and be aware that you don't have to have a lump to have breast cancer. Women need to know that breast cancer can occur in both younger and older women. Breast cancer can even occur in men! I was 28 when I was diagnosed with breast cancer, 12 years younger than the age when mammograms are recommended.
Because the cancer had spread beyond the breast, it was considered stage 4. I will never be cured, will never be in remission, and will be in treatment the rest of my life. The five year survival rate for inflammatory breast cancer is less than 10%. I pray daily that I can beat the odds and be part of that 10% that survives 5 or more years. I did 5 months of weekly chemotherapy, I lost my hair, my eyelashes, my eyebrows. I lost my breast, my ovaries, and my uterus. I lost my sense of taste, and my sense of smell (which isn't always a bad thing when you have to change poopy diapers!) I had radiation 5 times a week for 6 weeks. I have continued with targeted therapies once every 3 weeks since February 2008. Even with good health insurance, our portion of my cancer treatments cost us more every month than our house payment!
The 14 months since my cancer diagnosis have been the hardest of my life. But they have also been the best of my life. Even though I have lost a lot because of cancer, I have gained even more. I have developed an even stronger, deeper, loving relationship with the love of my life, my husband Dan. I have seen him grow as he has taken care of me, and also taken a more active role with the care of our 5 children. I have learned to cherish every moment with my children and other family members. I don't take things for granted anymore. We have received so much service from our friends and neighbors. They brought meals in 3 times a week, took our children every afternoon so I could rest, planted flowers and pulled weeds, cleaned my house, brought cookies, and many more acts of service. I have learned not to waste time worrying about small things, or holding grudges. I have learned that no matter how hard things are for you, there is always someone who is worse off than you are. I have tried to always keep a smile on my face, and find something to laugh about. I am so grateful for every day that I am still here. I treasure each moment with my children. Even though I don't have the energy that I used to, I always have enough energy to snuggle with them, read them a story, help them with homework, and listen to them.
I was once asked that if I could go back in time and never get cancer, would I. My answer was no. I truly believe that hard things in life make us appreciate the good things more. If we never had trials or sickness, we can not fully appreciate the joys of life. If there wasn't a cold, long winter, we couldn't fully enjoy the beauty of spring. If we were never sad, how would we know what happiness is?
The message I would most like to share with others is this: There is always good all around you. All you have to do is look and you will see it. Even though I have a terminal illness, I am still happy. I found out just yesterday that my cancer has spread again. In a few weeks, I will begin aggressive weekly chemotherapy again. I will lose my hair again. I will have to suffer all of the painful side effects again. Yet I still greet the day with a smile. The birds are singing this morning, and the sun is shining, and I am still breathing. It is a beautiful day, and life is good.
Six months passed from the onset of my breast problems, and I began to have severe pain in my hip and back. From January-March 2007 I visited a chiropractor, an orthopedic surgeon, and a physical therapist. I did physical therapy, had a steroid injection, did a few weeks of spinal decompression and electrode therapy, and yet my pain continued to get worse. I could hardly walk, couldn't lift my one year old baby, couldn't bend.
At the same time I was having this pain in my back and hip, I was still concerned about my breast. I went back to my OB-GYN, and was once again told that my breast was just engorged with milk. This just didn't seem right to me, because I hadn't had any milk come out of my right breast in 6 months. I was still breastfeeding with my left breast, but my right breast was much larger than my left. Still, I trusted my doctor.
In March-April 2007 my breast began to change even more. It had a mottled purple look, and the skin became really thick and looked like the skin of an orange. My nipple turned yellow, and inverted. I was very concerned. One night I was searching the internet to see if I could figure out what was going on with my breast. I stumbled upon a website about inflammatory breast cancer, also called IBC. IBC is a rare, but very aggressive form of breast cancer. It accounts for between only 1-5% of breast cancer. It usually spreads in nests or sheets in the breast, rather than a lump. It is often misdiagnosed as mastitis. The more I read on this site, the more I felt this deep dread and fear inside. I was sure that this is exactly what I had!
The next morning I called my OB-GYN and requested that I be seen that same day. I brought with me a print out of the symptoms of IBC. I told my doctor that I was worried that I had IBC, and he said, "I have been practicing for 20 years, and I have only seen 1 case of inflammatory breast cancer, and you don't have it."Of course I was relieved that my doctor didn't think I had IBC, but I was still concerned about all of the changes in my breast. So, the doctor told me, "I am 99.9% sure it is nothing, but for your peace of mind I will refer you to a surgeon."The first surgeon I saw just glanced at my breast, but didn't think anything serious was going on. He sent me for an ultrasound. The ultrasound result came back as "normal breast tissue", even though by this time, there was a baseball size mass in my breast. I just couldn't understand how this could be!
Luckily, my sister-in-law is an OR nurse. She had heard about my breast issues, and she referred me to a different surgeon who has had a lot of experience with breast cancer. This second surgeon was very concerned when he saw my breast. He had me scheduled for a mammogram the following day.
Film after film after film was taken during my mammogram. I was beginning to get worried. Then I was taken for another ultrasound of my breast. That is when the radiologist came in to do the ultrasound herself. She was able to see enlarged lymph nodes. She showed me the films from my mammogram, which showed cancer sprinkled like sugar all over in the supposed "normal breast tissue". That is when I heard those words, "We believe you have an aggressive form of breast cancer called Inflammatory Breast Cancer."
For a moment, time stood still. And the next moment, my world had changed. The next week was a whirlwind of tests, doctors appointments, biopsies, port placement surgery, more tests, more appointments. The test results did indeed come back as inflammatory breast cancer that had metastasized to my bones and right lung. I had lesions on my skull, ribs, spine, femur, pelvis, and hip and shoulder joints. That was what was causing all of my pain. I felt relieved on one hand to know the cause of my pain, but so frustrated on the other hand. If my OB-GYN had been more proactive, more aware, we could have caught the cancer sooner.
Women need to be more aware of this form of breast cancer, and be aware that you don't have to have a lump to have breast cancer. Women need to know that breast cancer can occur in both younger and older women. Breast cancer can even occur in men! I was 28 when I was diagnosed with breast cancer, 12 years younger than the age when mammograms are recommended.
Because the cancer had spread beyond the breast, it was considered stage 4. I will never be cured, will never be in remission, and will be in treatment the rest of my life. The five year survival rate for inflammatory breast cancer is less than 10%. I pray daily that I can beat the odds and be part of that 10% that survives 5 or more years. I did 5 months of weekly chemotherapy, I lost my hair, my eyelashes, my eyebrows. I lost my breast, my ovaries, and my uterus. I lost my sense of taste, and my sense of smell (which isn't always a bad thing when you have to change poopy diapers!) I had radiation 5 times a week for 6 weeks. I have continued with targeted therapies once every 3 weeks since February 2008. Even with good health insurance, our portion of my cancer treatments cost us more every month than our house payment!
The 14 months since my cancer diagnosis have been the hardest of my life. But they have also been the best of my life. Even though I have lost a lot because of cancer, I have gained even more. I have developed an even stronger, deeper, loving relationship with the love of my life, my husband Dan. I have seen him grow as he has taken care of me, and also taken a more active role with the care of our 5 children. I have learned to cherish every moment with my children and other family members. I don't take things for granted anymore. We have received so much service from our friends and neighbors. They brought meals in 3 times a week, took our children every afternoon so I could rest, planted flowers and pulled weeds, cleaned my house, brought cookies, and many more acts of service. I have learned not to waste time worrying about small things, or holding grudges. I have learned that no matter how hard things are for you, there is always someone who is worse off than you are. I have tried to always keep a smile on my face, and find something to laugh about. I am so grateful for every day that I am still here. I treasure each moment with my children. Even though I don't have the energy that I used to, I always have enough energy to snuggle with them, read them a story, help them with homework, and listen to them.
I was once asked that if I could go back in time and never get cancer, would I. My answer was no. I truly believe that hard things in life make us appreciate the good things more. If we never had trials or sickness, we can not fully appreciate the joys of life. If there wasn't a cold, long winter, we couldn't fully enjoy the beauty of spring. If we were never sad, how would we know what happiness is?
The message I would most like to share with others is this: There is always good all around you. All you have to do is look and you will see it. Even though I have a terminal illness, I am still happy. I found out just yesterday that my cancer has spread again. In a few weeks, I will begin aggressive weekly chemotherapy again. I will lose my hair again. I will have to suffer all of the painful side effects again. Yet I still greet the day with a smile. The birds are singing this morning, and the sun is shining, and I am still breathing. It is a beautiful day, and life is good.
Shannon's Story
After seeing the article in my local newspaper, I've thought deeply about what I would say. First of all, let me answer some of your questions and then show you my heart. I was diagnosed with breast cancer in June, 2007 after I found a lump in my breast. I am a believer in self examinations because my mammogram five months prior showed nothing. I had a mastectomy in July, 2007, and began chemo in August, 2007. Besides my cancer diagnosis, it was also discovered that I am estrogen positive, and HER2 positive. Although my chemo was completed in December, 2007, I am now undergoing Herceptin treatment just like I did with chemo (every 3 weeks, through my port for 1 year). I am also taking a medication called Tamoxifen for my estrogen positive diagnosis that will last for five years. I recently underwent my final reconstructive breast surgery two weeks ago, and I think I am actually done with surgery (five in one year is exhausting). I have learned many things over the past year and have faced many challenges however I would have to say that my Faith has played a big role. I never once considered the possibility of death for a number of reasons. I have two daughters, and I had to fight for them. Not only were they confused about my diagnosis, but their father and I had separated six weeks prior. I had to be strong. I had to continue to raise them in a healthy way, even though I was not healthy. I had to continue to wake up each morning and ask God to give me the strength to get through the day-not the week, the day. My 11 year old daughter and I were talking one night, and she asked me why God would give me cancer and take her daddy away all in one month. I had to answer her honestly and tell her that there was a plan for me....for us...and although I was not sure yet what it was, it was already predetermined. I now know that I am to get involved with raising awareness. I participated in the Susan G. Koman race in my area and loved it. I then helped raise money for our local Relay For Life and finally felt connected. I have been contacted by the commitee recently to join their team. My life changed on June 25th, 2007 FOREVER....but to me it's not been a bad thing. I have a purpose, a direction that was not there before. I am a women with Breast Cancer. I am a fighter. I am strong. I have a relationship with other cancer women that nobody else gets.....and that is powerful!!!
LaRena's Story
In January 2005, I was diagnosed with Ovarian Cancer. I had a large tumor across my stomach under the skin layers. (I thought was fat and the diet wasn't working.) and another in the uterus. My Oncologist decided to give me Chemotherapy to try to shrink the size of the tumor before surgery. After 6 installments of chemo of 3 weeks apart, I underwent surgery on July 7 2005. It was a full hysterectomy and also the removal of the mass across my stomach. The surgeon was very confident that the removal was complete. At my last followup appointment on July 8,2008, I was cancer free for 3 years now. Then I had to ruin it, I mentioned that I thought I had a lump in my breast. My oncologist got me in for a Mammogram and biopsy. The biopsy showed cancerous cells. The good news is that it is unrelated to the previous cancer. I met with the surgeon and had a MRI so he could have a better look. He sent me for genetic testing, because my mother and grandmother also had cancer. The good news is that I have neither BRCA1 or BRCA2 genes. I was scheduled for surgery July 29 and I hope everything came out okay. (ha ha) In the future, I'm now facing the possibility of Radiation therapy or Chemotherapy or maybe both. At the age of 54, this was my first Mammogram. I have been thinking that I should get one for years and after all, It's not the worst thing that ever happened to me! It would have been good for them to compare and It may have led to earlier detection of Breast Cancer. Now. I would advise women to get a Mammogram early and often and if diagnosis is cancer, be strong, keep fighting, and the hard part, do what the doctors tell you to do.
Ginger's Story
The night was filled with excitement as we sat around the large oak table at my mom’s house. It was October 31st 2006 - Halloween - and the entire family had gathered to share in the festivities. The 'oohs' and 'aahs' over the creative costumes had already been given and candy had been passed around to appease the children. As I sat there, staring into the faces of my six sisters and my parents, I couldn't believe what I was going to have to tell them. "I have some good news and some bad news" I began. I could see the anticipation in their faces, not knowing what was coming. "I'm five months pregnant...and I was diagnosed with breast cancer this afternoon." Faces that were at first excited turned immediately to shock. And that's how my story began.
I was 31 years old with no history of breast cancer in my immediate family, 5 months pregnant with two other children, and with six sisters whose lives changed after one mere phrase. The words 'Breast Cancer' alone can strike fear into the heart of any woman. But add it to the word 'Pregnant' and it takes on a whole new meaning. I remember sitting in the surgeon’s office as he spoke the words of my diagnosis. What was thought to be nothing because of its appearance on my areola, turned out to be invasive cancer. Many questions should have run through my mind - What would this mean for me and for my unborn child? How will I get through this? - But they didn't. Instead I just smiled and said, "Ok what do we do first?" I was instantly in survival mode. I had been through tough times before and had found the means to be happy and to turn bad situations into good ones and this new diagnosis of breast cancer wasn't going to be any different. I would be happy and I would find a way to help others during my journey. At least by so doing I would find peace within myself and that would pull me through the rough times ahead. And so it began.
My first mastectomy was while I was 6 months pregnant. And although I joked with my surgeon and operating room nurses about how fashionable their blue hats and scrubs were I was nervous about the outcome. How would this all work out? What would it be like only have on breast? Could I still breast feed my newborn baby? After the surgery and the bandages were removed I mourned the loss of my breast as other survivors have. The difference for me was that I only have large breasts when I'm pregnant, so it was a double whammy to have one of my 'rewards' removed during its prime! Other cancer survivors who are not pregnant also don't understand the feeling you get as you look in the mirror and see a HUGE pregnant belly and only one breast. Many in my situation would have cried for days - but I just couldn't. For me it was the funniest thing I'd ever seen! Laughter became my medicine.
I waited to have my auxiliary node dissection until May of 2007 after the birth of my son and the cancer had spread. My final diagnosis was Stage 2B. Next stop - Chemotherapy. Let the fun begin.
Imagine being a student in first grade who has been assigned to take a college class for individuals in their 30s. Now add on another 30 to 40 years and that's what it felt like walking into the chemo room. First of all, I was way too young to be there, and second, no one in the room was smiling. I had never been around anyone with cancer before, or seen the affects it can take on a person. I was shocked to see that all the treatment chairs were full and everyone looked so solemn and sad. I soon learned why firsthand. They were being killed on a cellular level and I was next.
Chemotherapy is what should be given to criminals instead of jail time. I'm convinced that it would be the 'cure all' for those who choose to violate the law. One strong dose and they would NEVER want to be bad again. But no, instead it's given to the un-expecting people who just want to live good lives a little bit longer. If you've never experienced the effects of Chemotherapy, there's really no way to explain it properly. It's something you have to experience because of the intense, horrible, wrenching, disgusting, gross, foul, loathsome (and one more adjective for emphasis) yucky reactions you have to it. Everyone's experience with chemo is different but we all have one thing in common - the experience isn't good.
After my first treatment I understood why the other people in the Chemo room didn't smile and I was determined to do something about that. But what can you do for sick people who don't really want to be bothered during treatment? And what could I do being a mother of 3 with a newborn baby, working full time from home and being beat down by the effects of chemotherapy? Then after a sleepless night I figured it out. BINGO! Quite literally...Bingo. You can do it sitting down, I would be the caller and the patients would just have to mark a square on a piece of paper, then I could hand out prizes to whoever won - BUT my oncologist didn't think that was such a great idea. So on to idea number two...I'd just give out prizes...awards for just being alive, for being a fighter. For taking our chemo medicine and for living one more day. We should be rewarded just for being strong enough to be a survivor. And so that's what I did for the entire 6 months I had my chemo treatments. I contacted local businesses on my 'good' days and drove around with my kids to pick up the donated prizes. We had gift certificates from Target, Home Depot, Red Robin, Great Harvest, Wendy's and more. People opened their hearts to my 'Do Good, Feel Better' project and gave freely. You should have seen the faces of the chemo patients on the first day of my treatment when I told them there were going to win prizes for being in the chemo room. It was so memorable. Some were shocked, some didn't want to participate (at first) but most welcomed the change.
As the months rolled on, a younger person than me entered the chemo room. He was 18 and had testicular cancer. He was quiet and shy at first, but after winning the prizes and interacting with the others in the room during 'prize time, he soon opened up and we all enjoyed his contributions to the conversations. The chemo room on Thursdays was the place to be - I'd hand out prizes, sing the occasional upbeat song to the patients and even got my favorite nurse, Daryl, to dance a jig. Many patients even changed their appointment times to be able to be there for the giveaways. Now in telling all this I don't want to portray someone who is bragging about what I did - or oooh look at me - I'm so wonderful. It's not that at all. What I want to get across is that good things can come from bad experiences if we are willing to open our hearts to others and share the goodness inside. I received FAR more than I ever gave away. I gained happiness, peace and the opportunity to live a longer life with my dear husband and children. Other friends in the chemo room weren't as fortunate and I've mourned losing them.
During my chemo experience my slogan has been 'Just Keep Swimming' taken from the song sung by Dori on the movie Finding Nemo. In life we all have to 'Just Keep Swimming' no matter what kinds of currents we face. No one is exempt from the difficulties of life and if you think the grass is greener on the other side you might want to double check because it's most likely artificial turf. We all have challenges to overcome - but by reaching out to help others, we find that our hands are open to receive what they have to share with us in return.
My chemo experience ended in November of 2007 but the memories and the friendships I made remain. Since then I've had a second mastectomy in Feb. of 08 and an ovary removed in June. I jokingly tell everyone they can now call me 'Jim' since I look more like a man every day. :) My battle continues but so does my determination to stay positive through this journey. It's not always easy and I admit that I've had my moments of utter grief and self pity, but I also have memories of those in the chemo room who had it much worse that I did and I remember to be grateful that I 'just' have breast cancer. I've seen worse.
To top off my experience, after I completed chemotherapy, my father was diagnosed with Stage 4 esophageal cancer. I can not explain the great blessing it is to be able to look my dad in the eyes and honestly say 'I completely understand what you're going through. I know the pain you'll feel and the thoughts that will roll through your mind. Dad, I'm here.' The role of caregiver has been reversed and I find that because of my cancer experience I am, once again, able to offer love, support and understanding to someone dear who's going through the cancer battle field.
Although I never want to endure chemo again, I wouldn't trade the experience for anything. It has changed who I am. It made me a better person and forced me to choose what type of person I was going to be: Someone who helped, or someone who just hurt.
To those of you who have fought the fight and continue to win daily, look for others who need your love, support and understanding. You can offer so much because you know what it's really like and can offer true empathy. You can be a pillar of strength to those who are scared and down hearted. For those of you who have just been diagnosed - don't worry - there are those who have gone before who can help you and although the time ahead will be a challenge - you can do it. You have more strength inside of you than you know and more people who love and will support you than you can imagine. It will be alright. You can get through this. Just keep swimming.
I'm currently in the process of tracking down a plastic surgeon I can trust to complete my reconstruction. So my journey continues. Looking like a 3 year old is only fun for so long...scratch that - it's never fun. But it's one of the last things that need to be completed before I'll feel like this part of my journey is coming to a close.
You asked us to share our greatest challenge and the interesting thing I've found, is that for me, my battle through breast cancer hasn't been dealing with the pain, lack of strength, or self image issues. The hardest thing for me to overcome has been guilt. I feel guilt due to the fact that I've created more debt for my family. Even if it was unintentional - the bills keep coming in and I'm the reason for it. Chemo leaves your body, your hair eventually grows back, the memories of the aches and pains fade - but the bills still have to be paid. Somehow.
BUT, as always, we do what we can, a little at a time, everyday until we reach our goal. We keep swimming and moving forward and we help others along the way. Together we survive.
I was 31 years old with no history of breast cancer in my immediate family, 5 months pregnant with two other children, and with six sisters whose lives changed after one mere phrase. The words 'Breast Cancer' alone can strike fear into the heart of any woman. But add it to the word 'Pregnant' and it takes on a whole new meaning. I remember sitting in the surgeon’s office as he spoke the words of my diagnosis. What was thought to be nothing because of its appearance on my areola, turned out to be invasive cancer. Many questions should have run through my mind - What would this mean for me and for my unborn child? How will I get through this? - But they didn't. Instead I just smiled and said, "Ok what do we do first?" I was instantly in survival mode. I had been through tough times before and had found the means to be happy and to turn bad situations into good ones and this new diagnosis of breast cancer wasn't going to be any different. I would be happy and I would find a way to help others during my journey. At least by so doing I would find peace within myself and that would pull me through the rough times ahead. And so it began.
My first mastectomy was while I was 6 months pregnant. And although I joked with my surgeon and operating room nurses about how fashionable their blue hats and scrubs were I was nervous about the outcome. How would this all work out? What would it be like only have on breast? Could I still breast feed my newborn baby? After the surgery and the bandages were removed I mourned the loss of my breast as other survivors have. The difference for me was that I only have large breasts when I'm pregnant, so it was a double whammy to have one of my 'rewards' removed during its prime! Other cancer survivors who are not pregnant also don't understand the feeling you get as you look in the mirror and see a HUGE pregnant belly and only one breast. Many in my situation would have cried for days - but I just couldn't. For me it was the funniest thing I'd ever seen! Laughter became my medicine.
I waited to have my auxiliary node dissection until May of 2007 after the birth of my son and the cancer had spread. My final diagnosis was Stage 2B. Next stop - Chemotherapy. Let the fun begin.
Imagine being a student in first grade who has been assigned to take a college class for individuals in their 30s. Now add on another 30 to 40 years and that's what it felt like walking into the chemo room. First of all, I was way too young to be there, and second, no one in the room was smiling. I had never been around anyone with cancer before, or seen the affects it can take on a person. I was shocked to see that all the treatment chairs were full and everyone looked so solemn and sad. I soon learned why firsthand. They were being killed on a cellular level and I was next.
Chemotherapy is what should be given to criminals instead of jail time. I'm convinced that it would be the 'cure all' for those who choose to violate the law. One strong dose and they would NEVER want to be bad again. But no, instead it's given to the un-expecting people who just want to live good lives a little bit longer. If you've never experienced the effects of Chemotherapy, there's really no way to explain it properly. It's something you have to experience because of the intense, horrible, wrenching, disgusting, gross, foul, loathsome (and one more adjective for emphasis) yucky reactions you have to it. Everyone's experience with chemo is different but we all have one thing in common - the experience isn't good.
After my first treatment I understood why the other people in the Chemo room didn't smile and I was determined to do something about that. But what can you do for sick people who don't really want to be bothered during treatment? And what could I do being a mother of 3 with a newborn baby, working full time from home and being beat down by the effects of chemotherapy? Then after a sleepless night I figured it out. BINGO! Quite literally...Bingo. You can do it sitting down, I would be the caller and the patients would just have to mark a square on a piece of paper, then I could hand out prizes to whoever won - BUT my oncologist didn't think that was such a great idea. So on to idea number two...I'd just give out prizes...awards for just being alive, for being a fighter. For taking our chemo medicine and for living one more day. We should be rewarded just for being strong enough to be a survivor. And so that's what I did for the entire 6 months I had my chemo treatments. I contacted local businesses on my 'good' days and drove around with my kids to pick up the donated prizes. We had gift certificates from Target, Home Depot, Red Robin, Great Harvest, Wendy's and more. People opened their hearts to my 'Do Good, Feel Better' project and gave freely. You should have seen the faces of the chemo patients on the first day of my treatment when I told them there were going to win prizes for being in the chemo room. It was so memorable. Some were shocked, some didn't want to participate (at first) but most welcomed the change.
As the months rolled on, a younger person than me entered the chemo room. He was 18 and had testicular cancer. He was quiet and shy at first, but after winning the prizes and interacting with the others in the room during 'prize time, he soon opened up and we all enjoyed his contributions to the conversations. The chemo room on Thursdays was the place to be - I'd hand out prizes, sing the occasional upbeat song to the patients and even got my favorite nurse, Daryl, to dance a jig. Many patients even changed their appointment times to be able to be there for the giveaways. Now in telling all this I don't want to portray someone who is bragging about what I did - or oooh look at me - I'm so wonderful. It's not that at all. What I want to get across is that good things can come from bad experiences if we are willing to open our hearts to others and share the goodness inside. I received FAR more than I ever gave away. I gained happiness, peace and the opportunity to live a longer life with my dear husband and children. Other friends in the chemo room weren't as fortunate and I've mourned losing them.
During my chemo experience my slogan has been 'Just Keep Swimming' taken from the song sung by Dori on the movie Finding Nemo. In life we all have to 'Just Keep Swimming' no matter what kinds of currents we face. No one is exempt from the difficulties of life and if you think the grass is greener on the other side you might want to double check because it's most likely artificial turf. We all have challenges to overcome - but by reaching out to help others, we find that our hands are open to receive what they have to share with us in return.
My chemo experience ended in November of 2007 but the memories and the friendships I made remain. Since then I've had a second mastectomy in Feb. of 08 and an ovary removed in June. I jokingly tell everyone they can now call me 'Jim' since I look more like a man every day. :) My battle continues but so does my determination to stay positive through this journey. It's not always easy and I admit that I've had my moments of utter grief and self pity, but I also have memories of those in the chemo room who had it much worse that I did and I remember to be grateful that I 'just' have breast cancer. I've seen worse.
To top off my experience, after I completed chemotherapy, my father was diagnosed with Stage 4 esophageal cancer. I can not explain the great blessing it is to be able to look my dad in the eyes and honestly say 'I completely understand what you're going through. I know the pain you'll feel and the thoughts that will roll through your mind. Dad, I'm here.' The role of caregiver has been reversed and I find that because of my cancer experience I am, once again, able to offer love, support and understanding to someone dear who's going through the cancer battle field.
Although I never want to endure chemo again, I wouldn't trade the experience for anything. It has changed who I am. It made me a better person and forced me to choose what type of person I was going to be: Someone who helped, or someone who just hurt.
To those of you who have fought the fight and continue to win daily, look for others who need your love, support and understanding. You can offer so much because you know what it's really like and can offer true empathy. You can be a pillar of strength to those who are scared and down hearted. For those of you who have just been diagnosed - don't worry - there are those who have gone before who can help you and although the time ahead will be a challenge - you can do it. You have more strength inside of you than you know and more people who love and will support you than you can imagine. It will be alright. You can get through this. Just keep swimming.
I'm currently in the process of tracking down a plastic surgeon I can trust to complete my reconstruction. So my journey continues. Looking like a 3 year old is only fun for so long...scratch that - it's never fun. But it's one of the last things that need to be completed before I'll feel like this part of my journey is coming to a close.
You asked us to share our greatest challenge and the interesting thing I've found, is that for me, my battle through breast cancer hasn't been dealing with the pain, lack of strength, or self image issues. The hardest thing for me to overcome has been guilt. I feel guilt due to the fact that I've created more debt for my family. Even if it was unintentional - the bills keep coming in and I'm the reason for it. Chemo leaves your body, your hair eventually grows back, the memories of the aches and pains fade - but the bills still have to be paid. Somehow.
BUT, as always, we do what we can, a little at a time, everyday until we reach our goal. We keep swimming and moving forward and we help others along the way. Together we survive.
Elma's Story
I am sharing this story on behalf of my wife who is currently undergoing chemotherapy for breast cancer. My wife was diagnosed with stage I/II breast cancer in April of this year at the age of 37 after finding a very small lump in her breast. She was told that it was nothing to worry about but persisted in having it further evaluated and much to everyones surprise it was invasive ductal carcinoma. She had a very difficult time deciding what treatment options to choose but was told that she was a good candidate for a partial mastectomy due to the lump being just 1cm and having enough tissue available to make this a good cosmetic option. She had surgery in May and because of her young age she was advised to have chemotherapy rather than just taking temoxiphin. She is currently undergoing four cycles chemo. and will the have six weeks of radiation therapy followed by five years of temoxiphin. We still have a ways to go in this battle and it has been very difficult. We have two sons ages six and ten and they have taken all of this pretty hard. My wife worked part time before she became sick and is not currently working. I am the sole provider for our family but I have had to use much of my time off to take her to her doctor/hospital visits. We have health insurance but it has high deductables and out of pocket expenses and we have built up quite a few expenses. We seem to fall in the area of middle class when it comes to receiving any sort of assistance and we haven't been eligible for much. This has put a lot of stress on our home and not to mention our marriage. If there is anything positive to say about this is that her doctors have been great. We are very thankful that she pursued further testing when she did. We have also had alot of support from our family and friends. We have not had to cook a meal in several weeks thanks to them. We are taking things one day at a time and doing everything we can to ensure that our boys grow up with their mommy around. I'm sure that once my wife is feeling stronger she would be happy to share all of the details and she can probably do a much better job of it than I.
Starla's Story
Cancer. I never realized how dramatically cancer would affect my life up until the last year and a half. My mother died from ovarian cancer, my father-n-law was diagnosed with prostrate cancer, I was diagnosed with breast cancer, and in the middle of it all Hurrican Rita ravaged our homes and lives.
I am a breast cancer patient. I have endured chemotherapy and radiation. I'll never forget my first chemo. treatment. I was feeling fine on the drive home (2 hours), calling family to tell them how great I felt. Little did I know, the drugs given before chemo. were working well. About the time we pulled in our driveway I first felt nauseated. My husband had prescriptions to fill for anti-nausea meds., but it was midnight. He waited until the next morning, but our small town pharmacy didn't have the prescribed medications. By that time my nausea was bad, I was dehydrated and still nauseated. We drove for two hours back to the ER.
The most difficult part of my treatment is not having the ultimate supporter and nurturer: my mother. There have been so many times I wanted to hug her and cry on her shoulder. Also, another very difficult situation is the genetic testing I recently received my results.(positive BRCA1 and BRCA11) Now my daughters can be affected. Of coarse, I don't know if they are genetically positive, but they both have a 50% chance.
Before, I thought cancer equaled death. I know many people die from cancer, like my mother. However, I have also seen another side of cancer. Cancer can reveal strength, love, caring , prayers, parties, research and many more good things. People have reached out and I have experienced their love and support. My family has enjoyed many cooked and delivered meals. I was given a supirse hat party; where everyone brought me a hat or scarf to cover my bare head. Also we had a "no more radiation celebration". I received these blessings in a time of need, and I want to give back. I'm a cancer patient, I've lost a love one, and I intend to survive this illness. Therefore, I can become more knowledgeable and watch for new research that will benefit so many women.
I am a breast cancer patient. I have endured chemotherapy and radiation. I'll never forget my first chemo. treatment. I was feeling fine on the drive home (2 hours), calling family to tell them how great I felt. Little did I know, the drugs given before chemo. were working well. About the time we pulled in our driveway I first felt nauseated. My husband had prescriptions to fill for anti-nausea meds., but it was midnight. He waited until the next morning, but our small town pharmacy didn't have the prescribed medications. By that time my nausea was bad, I was dehydrated and still nauseated. We drove for two hours back to the ER.
The most difficult part of my treatment is not having the ultimate supporter and nurturer: my mother. There have been so many times I wanted to hug her and cry on her shoulder. Also, another very difficult situation is the genetic testing I recently received my results.(positive BRCA1 and BRCA11) Now my daughters can be affected. Of coarse, I don't know if they are genetically positive, but they both have a 50% chance.
Before, I thought cancer equaled death. I know many people die from cancer, like my mother. However, I have also seen another side of cancer. Cancer can reveal strength, love, caring , prayers, parties, research and many more good things. People have reached out and I have experienced their love and support. My family has enjoyed many cooked and delivered meals. I was given a supirse hat party; where everyone brought me a hat or scarf to cover my bare head. Also we had a "no more radiation celebration". I received these blessings in a time of need, and I want to give back. I'm a cancer patient, I've lost a love one, and I intend to survive this illness. Therefore, I can become more knowledgeable and watch for new research that will benefit so many women.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Charlotte's Story
Hi, my name is Charlotte , and actually I'am both a Breast Cancer survivor & currently have Breast Cancer again. I was first diagnosed in 1999 in my right Breast, they did a mysectomy & I went through Chemo & reconstructive surgery and 5 years on tomixifan & was cured. now here I'am 9 yrs. later & while doing my self exams in Feb. 2008 I found another lump in my left Breast. I went to the Drs. & you guessed it, it was again Cancer, a little worse this time, So am now undergoing 8 rounds of chemo, on round 3 now. & then radiation. am also in process of reconstructive surgery again. I lost my hair about two weeks ago. This Chemo is hitting me pretty hard, But I'am a SURVIVOR & will be fine. I have my pitty party moments, but mostly am pretty positive! I don't believe in quitting! This Chemo is hitting me pretty hard, tired all the time, & this chemo makes my throat very sore, which makes it hard to eat or swallow. My greatest challenge now has been the tiredness, & sore throat & the burden I feel I'am putting my family. my significant lesson learned would be I should have insisted last time for the Dr. to take both Breasts, & you can get it again & how very important self exams are.!!! & I also believe I'am here to help other women with their diagnosis & to give them encouragement. With my wonderful husband support & my family support I will SURVIVE! I refuse to give up! You are not immune to this horrible disease after the 5 year period. My advise to other women is don't stop getting mammograms & more importantly always do self Breast exams, they are very important! I WILL MAKE IT THROUGH THIS & I WILL SURVIVE!
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!
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!
Denise's Story
In December 2007 I had planned to run the Las Vegas 1/2 marathon with several friends of mine and I wasn't going to let the recently noticed change in my left breast deter me from my goal and the promise to my friends. I had talked to my close friends about a small lump I had found and knew I needed to get checked and was reassured when 2 of them had also found lumps that turned out not to be cancerous. I finally made the doctor's appointment when I arrived home from Las Vegas a little dehydrated and my husband remarked about the change in my breast. My breast had become puckered in the area of the growth, a worrisome sign unbeknownst to me, and was much more noticeable when my body was dehydrated.
I went to see my doctor in January, who sent me for a mammogram. The mammogram didn't show anything definitive, so they sent me to ultrasound. The tech took pictures and measurements and then went to find the radiologist. The radiologist wanted to biopsy the growth immediately, so I felt some concern. I had a consult with a surgeon who gave me hope in the fact that it was highly unlikely that an active 35 year old woman with no family history of breast cancer was going to be diagnosed with breast cancer.
Two days later, January 25th, 2008, I was diagnosed with breast cancer.I was shocked and scared. Mostly scared that this was going to completely alter my life and my family's life and already mourning the fact that I was going to lose my hair. I knew enough about breast cancer to know that many women are diagnosed with breast cancer and many are cured, so I was not afraid of dying. I did, however, have to go through surgery, chemotherapy, radiation, and hormone therapy.
My whirlwind began with an MRI, which showed three more growths in the same breast. I elected to have a masectomy right away. The surgery was performed the first week of February and went well. Next on the list was chemo and I began biweekly treatments in March and finished June 13th, 2008. I had very supportive family, friends and neighborhood who helped me with meals, cleaning, taking my kids, or anything else needed. My best girlfriends continued to walk/run and lift weights with me even when I could only run downhill or walk the whole way. I was able to go to all of my kids' basketball, soccer and baseball games by cutting out some of the cleaning and volunteering that I did during the day while my children were at school. I prioritized the things in my life and then stuck to what I could handle. Excercise helped me handle chemo in a more positive way and actually made the aches associated with one of the chemo drugs less painfull.
I began radiation at the beginning of July and have 5 1/2 weeks worth of every day (5 days a week) treatments. So far, this seems easy in comparison to chemotherapy, but I have not noticed any side effects yet. I am told these are yet to come. (Redness, tiredness, etc.)
This week, I elected to have an oopherectomy and a hysterectomy. I have spoke to several doctors and read up on the hormone therapy I will need to be on for the next five years and decided that I wanted to be on an aromatase inhibitor for post menopausal women.
My biggest fear when I found out I had cancer was that this was going to take all my time and energy. I didn't want cancer to change everything in my life. I have 3 beautiful children who need a mom who can help them with their homework, cheer for them at their games and kiss them before bed. I wanted to be able to run and lift weights like I have for the better part of my life. How was this all going to work?That is what I learned from cancer. Face cancer, head on, like any other challenge. After a good cry, get the information you need to make decisions. Make those decisions and get going. There's nothing like marking something off your list of things to do. Prioritize the things in your life and then do as many of those things as you can. As long as I was there for my kids and husband and was able to excercise, everything else was able to be put off. Think positive and take action. Being inactive gives you more time to worry and "what if" yourself.
We live in a time when great advances have been made in the breast cancer research and treatment. There is much hope to be felt in this fact!
I went to see my doctor in January, who sent me for a mammogram. The mammogram didn't show anything definitive, so they sent me to ultrasound. The tech took pictures and measurements and then went to find the radiologist. The radiologist wanted to biopsy the growth immediately, so I felt some concern. I had a consult with a surgeon who gave me hope in the fact that it was highly unlikely that an active 35 year old woman with no family history of breast cancer was going to be diagnosed with breast cancer.
Two days later, January 25th, 2008, I was diagnosed with breast cancer.I was shocked and scared. Mostly scared that this was going to completely alter my life and my family's life and already mourning the fact that I was going to lose my hair. I knew enough about breast cancer to know that many women are diagnosed with breast cancer and many are cured, so I was not afraid of dying. I did, however, have to go through surgery, chemotherapy, radiation, and hormone therapy.
My whirlwind began with an MRI, which showed three more growths in the same breast. I elected to have a masectomy right away. The surgery was performed the first week of February and went well. Next on the list was chemo and I began biweekly treatments in March and finished June 13th, 2008. I had very supportive family, friends and neighborhood who helped me with meals, cleaning, taking my kids, or anything else needed. My best girlfriends continued to walk/run and lift weights with me even when I could only run downhill or walk the whole way. I was able to go to all of my kids' basketball, soccer and baseball games by cutting out some of the cleaning and volunteering that I did during the day while my children were at school. I prioritized the things in my life and then stuck to what I could handle. Excercise helped me handle chemo in a more positive way and actually made the aches associated with one of the chemo drugs less painfull.
I began radiation at the beginning of July and have 5 1/2 weeks worth of every day (5 days a week) treatments. So far, this seems easy in comparison to chemotherapy, but I have not noticed any side effects yet. I am told these are yet to come. (Redness, tiredness, etc.)
This week, I elected to have an oopherectomy and a hysterectomy. I have spoke to several doctors and read up on the hormone therapy I will need to be on for the next five years and decided that I wanted to be on an aromatase inhibitor for post menopausal women.
My biggest fear when I found out I had cancer was that this was going to take all my time and energy. I didn't want cancer to change everything in my life. I have 3 beautiful children who need a mom who can help them with their homework, cheer for them at their games and kiss them before bed. I wanted to be able to run and lift weights like I have for the better part of my life. How was this all going to work?That is what I learned from cancer. Face cancer, head on, like any other challenge. After a good cry, get the information you need to make decisions. Make those decisions and get going. There's nothing like marking something off your list of things to do. Prioritize the things in your life and then do as many of those things as you can. As long as I was there for my kids and husband and was able to excercise, everything else was able to be put off. Think positive and take action. Being inactive gives you more time to worry and "what if" yourself.
We live in a time when great advances have been made in the breast cancer research and treatment. There is much hope to be felt in this fact!
Angela's Story
When I was young my nickname was Kansas, my chest never developed. I was always upset and seriously considered augmentation. April 7th 2008 changed that forever and I was finally glad I had small breasts. After religiously doing my monthly breast exams and just having my physical in January I couldn't believe what I accidentally found. Watching my Memphis Tigers in the NCAA championship (which they lost) I was quite emotional and moving all over the place because they make me a nervous wreck, I just happened to brush my chest right at the top of my left breast.....my heart stopped. I work in the medical field so I knew right then what it was, that horrible marble in my breast that wouldn't move and as hard as a pressed wouldn't hurt. Two days later I was having a needle biopsy and on April 10th I was diagnosed with Invasive Ductal Carcinoma. A week after that I had a lumpectomy removing two lumps and 15 lymphnodes, 4 being positive. Stage 2 cancer with a grade 3 tumor, such scary news. I am a single mom with two beautiful boys, they are my reason to fight this ugly disease and my youth allows me to participate in a clinical study in hopes of helping with the cure of this nasty C word. I still work full time, I have to. But the best is how my boys now kiss the top of my bald head before they kiss me on the cheek. They love my bald head and that makes me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. All funding for grants are gone so the cost of treatment is now more stressful than the treatment itself, why is that the case when you have health insurance? Is it logical to end up with a $13,000 bill in the end, is that how health insurance works, for them and not for you? I don't understand that but I can't let that stress show, I stay strong for my boys. I stay strong for all the women who have gone through this, are going through this and who lost the fight to this. We are a sisterhood, sisters of pink. Now I finally have a purpose for my favorite color being pink. I have a long haul yet in this battle but I will win, it doesn't have a chance against me. PINK POWER!!!!
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