After my mammogram in November, I was called back for additional imaging. At first, I wasn't overly concerned because I had been told that I had dense breasts. Then, while attending a Kiwanis fundraising event, I received a call from my OB/GYN's office. They told me that my doctor would be calling me shortly and that I needed to take the call.

I went home. My husband and I sat by the phone and waited.

​

Then the call came. I had breast cancer.
 

I was diagnosed with triple negative, Stage 2A breast cancer in my right breast. The tumor was close to my chest wall.

I named my right breast Mort. My treatment included two lumpectomies, four chemotherapy treatments with Taxol and 32 radiation treatments. Even while going through treatment, I continued running my tax business. It was tax season, and I was determined to keep going.

​

And Then Came Marty

I thought that chapter of my life was behind me.

But in October 2016, I went for my annual mammogram, and cancer was discovered in my left breast.

For the second time, I heard the words no one ever wants to hear.

I had breast cancer again.

This time, I was diagnosed with triple negative, Stage 1A breast cancer. 

 

I named my left breast Marty.

Once again, I faced treatment. I underwent another lumpectomy, four chemotherapy treatments with the “Red Devil” and 31 radiation treatments. After my second diagnosis, I underwent genetic testing. The results revealed an increased hereditary risk for breast and ovarian cancer. This was especially significant to me because my mother had battled Stage 3 ovarian cancer.

​

While recovering from my breast surgery, I made the decision to have my ovaries removed.

​

Finding Myself Again

Cancer affected more than my body. It changed my life.

I had to learn how to slow down and reconnect with myself.

Sometimes I would go outside barefoot and stand in my backyard. I would look up at the sky and simply ground myself.

I found peace in painting. I found peace in gardening.

Those things became part of my healing and helped me find my way forward.

​

Why I Tell My Story

Today, I share my story because I want other women to understand the importance of taking care of themselves.

Get your mammograms.

Know your body and pay attention when something doesn't feel right.

If you have a family history of breast or ovarian cancer, talk with your healthcare provider about whether genetic testing may be appropriate for you.

We spend so much of our lives taking care of our children, our families, our businesses and everyone around us. But we cannot forget to take care of ourselves.

I faced breast cancer in my right breast, Mort, and then breast cancer in my left breast, Marty.

​

Today, I am here.

I am grateful.

I am a survivor.

​

And if sharing my journey encourages even one woman to schedule her mammogram, pay attention to her body or take her health more seriously, then telling my story is worth it.

Early detection saved my life.

​

Poem by Cheryl Lepensee

​

This is from one of the breasties that I went through cancer with that passed away one year ago 2 days ago. Her name was Cheryl Lapensee. This will give you an idea how going through cancer feels like. 

 

Dedicated to all my family and friends who have walked this path .... 

​They said to go home. They said, "the scans look fine, your body will recover, you don't need to be here anymore. The cancer might come back, but until then there's nothing we can do." They said to go home. They said, "go on and live your life. Take a breath, take a nap, maybe even take a vacation. Go back to your jobs, back to your hobbies, back to laundry, dishes, and paying the bills. Spend time with your family, meet a friend for lunch, catch a movie with your loved ones." It sounded nice when they said to go home. So we went home. 
But the home we went back to wasn't as familiar as we thought. The paint was the right color and the furniture was in place, but it wasn't the same. Our thoughts, feelings, and interests had changed. Our relationships, jobs, and bodies felt so much different. They said to go home, so we tried to go home, but it didn't feel like home. We felt lost. It was as if we had been on a path, kidnapped somewhere in the middle, turned around 20 times, and set off in a new direction. We didn't know which way was up or down, left or right. We felt stranded in the desert- abandoned, desolate, and lonely. They said to go home. But home was out of reach. The home we knew didn't exist anymore. We wandered around before trying to build a new home. But the new home crumbled and cracked, forcing us to repair, rebuild, or start completely over. They said to go home. But they didn't understand. After seeing thousands of patients in this position, they still didn't understand. It looked so simple from their perspective. Go home, go back to your life, pretend that cancer never came. But we couldn't go home. Our souls were altered on the deepest level. Our hearts were shattered, our minds were chaos, and our bodies hurt. They couldn't see it. Then we saw others. "Do you know where you are going?" we asked. "No, I feel rather lost," they would say. "But you are welcome to join, and we can pave a new path together." 

​

In that moment, though we were all still lost, we felt a glimpse of home. Our hearts connected and friendships formed on the simplest notion of being aimless wanderers together. "Your thoughts and feelings make sense given all that you've been through. Others may not understand, but I can see, because I've walked a similar path." "You belong here." Our hearts began to relax. We took a deep breath of fresh air. 
They said to come home. Copied from a true warrior. 

​