Survivor Stories

I would never wish breast cancer on anyone, but it’s truly been a blessing in my life. My life outlook has changed for the better. Founder of Pink-Link

I started off my journey as most folks do, I was scared, no I was terrified. Being a single mom with one parent who was ill (and by the way died after my second surgery), I also knew in order to get through; I was going to have to ask for help.

When I did, I was astounded to find that the people I knew were clamoring over one another to assist me in every possible way I could imagine. However, even with all of wonderful people by my side, it took every thing I have learned and every tool I possess to get through a two year battle with a semblance of dignity and grace.

Three major surgeries, and 16 weeks of nasty chemotherapy later, I am happy to say that I am currently in remission. The most important thing I have gotten out of my bout with cancer is the knowledge that I am truly loved by many. I honestly do not know how I would manage without the army of people, including the doctors and staff at Kaiser, who have continued to be so amazingly supportive.

Today, I wear my key with the pink ribbon proudly, not as a reminder of the pain I went through, but as a testimonial to the power of love and courage. My cancerversary date is October 4th 2007. If there is one thing I can say to others is to not be silent. Share what you are going through, let the love your friends and relatives feel for you shine through to help you heal.

I look forward to my Cancerversary because it will confirm for me that "I had cancer; it did not have me." It will affirm that cancer can be overcome and can be turned into a positive experience. Having cancer allowed me to see the blessings that are in my life and that have always been there. I consider myself the luckiest person in the world for having had and surviving cancer.

Now, I feel like I’m unstoppable. I’ve lived more in the past four years than I did the years before, and when I die, I want to know that I made the best use of my “after life” and impacted the lives of as many people as possible. To me, every day is a chance to start new…whether you have had cancer or not, know that you hold the power to create a new beginning every day.

Among our busy lives and work schedules our goal was to plan a road trip to Frankenmuth, a little German town in Michigan, to shop and eat their famous chicken. Our plans did not come to pass due to the first diagnosis of cancer September 2006. Julie had an abnormal pap smear which lead to extensive testing. She was diagnosed with stage 4, Diffuse Large B Cell non-Hodgkins Lymphoma. I was in shock to hear that my new found friend had cancer. How could this be? We were supposed to go to Frankenmuth. Julie began treatment along with the ups and downs of chemotherapy and radiation.

From that point on it was a series of phone calls and referrals in a race to schedule a surgical biopsy to quickly determine what type of cancer it was; a lymphoma or a thymoma. I remember a female resident doctor in the room with my Thoracic surgeon saying, "let's home it's Hodgkin's Lymphoma. It's very receptive to treatment." My surgery was scheduled for March 31st. I was to now wait 5 days in nervious anticipation. After that, it would be a few more days for the results of the biopsy to return. I was scheduled to return on April 6th to see my new Oncologist to get the results. The day finally arrived and my husband and brother attended the appointment with me. My Oncologist walked into the room, introduced himself, asked me if I knew what I was there for (of course!) and gave me my diagnosis. It was Hodgkin's Lymphoma, Stage 1B. I was so relieved! My husband and I, to the utter appallment of the doctor, almost high fived eachother! The doctor was not used to this kind of reaction, but I was joyed to learn I had a cancer that I had a very good chance of beating.

Just hours after losing that job I was offered a new one because a local bar had fired a bartender the night before and needed a new one to finish out the summer. Weird, right? And person who got me the job was a woman I hadn’t talked to for months, but who, coincidentally, had the notion to call me that day to invite me to happy hour.

After about a month, I did find that damn little marble in my right breast. At the time, I happened to be dating a guy I thought would jet at the mention of cancer and all the glorious things that come with it. After all, what 20-something wants to watch his girlfriend go through surgery after surgery, seemingly endless chemotherapy treatments, hair loss, sickness, you name it?

This guy did. And with my closest family living about five hours away, he not only became my “family,” but he became my best friend.

I didn’t appreciate it, though. I don’t think I meant to, but I took advantage of him — I assumed he would be at every treatment. I expected him to come straight home after work to take care of me. I just knew he would be there and it never crossed my mind that a day would come that he wouldn’t.

But it did.

Because I was diagnosed with breast cancer at such a young age, and my mother had also been diagnosed very young, my doctors tested me for a gene mutation that goes by the name BRCA1 and BRCA2. It’s a screw-up, so to speak, in a person’s DNA that increases her chances of developing breast and ovarian cancer, especially at an early age.

And I tested positive for it. BRCA1, to be exact. Which is why I opted to have a bilateral mastectomy just two weeks after my diagnosis, rather than simply have the lump removed and play a waiting game for the next lump to pop up.

I had immediate reconstructive surgery, which consisted of painful weekly saline injections into “tissue expanders” in my chest that were making way for saline breast implants I would get later (not nearly as fabulous as Hollywood implants). And I had four chemotherapy treatments — just to “make sure” — that resulted in almost immediate hair loss and energy loss.

And then, because life is awesome, a whole new set of doctors found a whole new set of issues — specifically, a brand new, potentially cancerous cyst on one of my ovaries during one of what had since become monthly check-ups to monitor me for ovarian cancer.

I celebrated my new discovery by breaking up with my boyfriend. Told him, “You know what? Maybe I should take this one on alone.” (I’ve realized I’ve never heard anyone call me “smart.” Cute, maybe. Not smart.)

Here’s what I realized:

At 26 years old, I worried a lot about money and car payments and phone bills and rent and how clean my house was and how perfect I looked and how people looked at me and all the things people get so wrapped up in without ever even thinking.

How stupid.

I know it’s cliché, but I take one day at a time now. I don’t worry about the future because I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t know how much of that future I’ll even get to see. I do the stuff that makes me happy now.

I saved an e-mail my grandfather sent me a while back, and this is a portion of it:

“Things aren’t always what they seem … Sometimes that is exactly what happens when things don’t turn out the way they should. If you have faith, you just need to trust that every outcome is always to your advantage. You just might not know it until some time later.”

If I could have had it my way, I would have never left that first job. And things would be so different. Cancer would have been completely different. Who knows what my life would have become, how I would have handled it?

I think those things happened for a reason. And I’m certainly not bitter about battling cancer. It was an eye-opener for me and my family — we learned that BRCA1 and BRCA2 do exist, and we are all at risk for carrying that gene mutation. I think I was strong enough to handle the diagnosis at the time, and to be quite honest, I think I needed it the most, given the way I had let the most important things in life drift away without ever really knowing that I had.

Though cancer certainly changed the way I thought about most things, it didn’t change me in the same way if often changes some survivors. I didn’t immediately join the “Let’s Squash Breast Cancer” Army, support groups still make me anxious, and if I’m being completely honest (and why not? Being honest online never hurt anyone …), I can’t stand the thought of wearing a pink ribbon. Telling my story without being asked a specific question scares the bejesus out of me. In fact, telling this story literally took years. It’s be written and rewritten, then hidden on my hard drive for another few months … over and over and over again.

I’ve been called selfish and arrogant and lots of other things (I prefer "Pink Ribbon Rebel). But it’s not like I volunteered for cancer, or to be a spokesperson when all was said and done. I got it when I truly believe I was strong enough to handle it, I went through the necessary therapy and now I’m back in the game. Kind of like spraining your ankle.

In the past year, though, a few things have happened to make me rethink how I view my past. My story could have an impact on another young women who was diagnosed at an early age. My efforts could help fund research for a cure. I could make a difference. Who knows?

So I decided to have my own group — the Pink Ribbon Pinups. A fundraising group that still supports beast cancer awareness, but that does it in a way that young women realize they are at risk just like older women. And that it’s ok .... they can still be beautiful and fun.

And naturally, we wear pink.

One of my favorite authors is Jennifer Weiner. She wrote a book called “Good in Bed” that, although didn’t turn out to be about what I thought it would (ahem …), did make for good reading. In it, she wrote this:

“Things don’t always turn out the way you planned, or the way you think they should. There are things that go wrong that don’t always get fixed or put back together the way they were before. Some things stay broken. You can get through bad times and keep looking for the better ones, as long as you have people who love you.

“Things happen, you know? Things happen and you can’t make them un-happen. You don’t get do-overs, you can’t roll back the clock, and the only thing you can change — and the only thing it does any good to worry about — is how you let them affect you.”

So will my Pink Ribbon Pinups make a difference in the ginormous world of breast cancer? Who the hell knows? But it’s worth a shot.