Jo DeMars
This year my oncologist gave me my Five Years Cancer Clear release and, just like that, the chapter closed. It seemed something like a tantruming little child: the end comes slowly and then the drama winds down, finishing with nothing more than a couple of hiccups and tear-stained cheeks. I leave behind the shock of my diagnosis, the tedium of treatment, the feeling of being just a number (the 1:15 Patient), the worried looks on my loved ones’ faces, the endless follow up appointments with multiple physicians, and being almost too familiar with staff in the Oncology Department. I keep the unsettled wondering that comes with each mammogram, the little doubts that hole up in the back of my mind: Will this one be the normal one, or will I be back next month for another procedure? And I keep the commitment to do whatever I can to make things change, like better care, better diagnostics, better knowledge, and (once and for all) ending breast cancer.
Dana Johnson
In Memoriam Artist
My odyssey with breast cancer awareness began in 1996 when my mother was informed of her condition. Subsequently, my conviction to become part of the solution for this disease intensified until her passing seven years later in January of 2003. Now, I have pledged my time and have dedicated my efforts in the promotion of the fight against breast cancer. Going forward with the expressed involvement of my father and brother, we have strived to keep the memory of “Goldie”, as she was affectionately called, vivid in the minds of her many family members, friends and associates.
Moria Leonhardt
I was diagnosed with triple negative breast cancer on August 21, 2012. I found a lump in my breast and after a mammogram, ultrasound and biopsy, was told there were actually two tumors and 1 positive node in my armpit. I first completed sixteen (16) rounds, then underwent surgery. My surgery consisted of bilateral mastectomy, reconstruction, nodes removal and ovaries removed. I had all this done due to being BRCA positive and my mother having passed away from ovarian cancer two years ago. I underwent a second surgery due to an infection and now am doing radiation. It will be up to a year before reconstruction of my breasts can be done. Of course, there are the obvious physical hardships going through cancer treatment, but for me the toughest struggle was how unregulated my emotions were. Not only did I have to give up control of my own life, now I had to let others help with my children. I am incredibly happy and fortunate to be “treated”. I had a complete pathological response to treatment! I will always live in fear of recurrence, but every day I thank God to be alive. My faith is stronger than ever before, my love for my children and every supportive husband saved me. The list of people who held my hand through cancer is endless and now I celebrate a new beginning with them!
Lindsey Nathan O’Connor
I was diagnosed at age 35. If felt a lump that ironically was not cancer, however an ultrasound found a small tumor. I underwent a lumpectomy, fertility preservation (we have 3 frozen embryos), chemotherapy, and radiation. The key, for me, to getting over the “speed bump” was a good sense of humor and the support of my amazing husband, Pat, and countless family and friends.
Pam Parker
On Friday afternoon of Memorial Day weekend in 2008, my gynecologist called me with those nasty words, “I’m sorry to have to tell you. . . .” I was home alone . . . my husband was mountain climbing in CA. We had discussed if he should go–this was my second biopsy and after a negative one a few years before, I wasn’t worried at all. One son was at Carleton College, the other, home was completing his senior year at Wauwatosa West.
I now jokingly refer to my cancer experience as “cancer light.” A routine mammogram caught mine so early that I only needed radiation and subsequent tamoxifen. I didn’t have to step on the chemo train. Despite these facts, the disease did a number on me emotionally. No one knows how they will react. I would have loved to have been one of those warrior women who flex their arms and train for triathlons, but that wasn’t how I reacted. In the first year post cancer treatment, I had my first bout of clinical depression. I gained weight. I cried. I felt guilty . . . after all, I was one of the lucky ones. My cancer was gone.
I don’t think cancer significantly affected my attitudes toward the importance of personal relationships. My dear Dad died suddenly when he was forty-one and I was eighteen. That experience wired me to always value life and the people in my life. But, cancer did kick my butt in an area that benefited from a cancer kick. I had been dabbling in writing. I was in and out of roundtable groups at RedBird-RedOak Writing, working on a novel, sort of. Then, cancer. I reflected on my writing goals, my efforts and what I really wanted and thought I was put on the planet to do. Since cancer, I have become an advocate and encourager for emerging authors through my blog, pamwrites.net. I lead roundtable groups at RedBird RedOak in Bay View. I have published numerous short stories, poems and essays in literary journals. To my pleasant surprise, I’ve won awards, including one I hadn’t known I was nominated for through WUWM. It was for an essay I wrote and read on Lake Effect, “The End of Pinktober,” about my discouragement at the overwhelming branding of pink in October. That essay won First Place in Large Market Radio for the Wisconsin Broadcasters Association in 2012. Precancer Pam wouldn’t have considered submitting that essay! Post-cancer-kicked Pam had no problem.
Stacy Scrip
One morning in February, 2009, was when I turned over in bed and my arm brushed against my right breast. Something did not feel right, but I convinced myself that it was due to “that-time-of-the-month.” After a couple weeks passed, I was shaving my armpit when I noticed how swollen it was. I immediately knew this was not due to my menstrual cycle. I jumped out of the shower and screamed for my husband! Why was this happening to me? What did I do to deserve this? I was too young to have cancer! After calming down, I called my obstetrician’s office. Since we had new health insurance, I was told by the receptionist that I had to pay for the office visit and mammogram up-front. As a stay-at-home mom and only one income for our household, that was not a possibility. It was an act of God that made my fingers dial Froedtert Hospital. After explaining my situation, I was immediately connected to the Breast Care Center and had an appointment for the following week.
Monday, March 17, Anna Purdy walked into the exam room, and after a brief exam, her facial expression had changed. I knew at that moment that I had breast cancer. What was I going to tell my husband? What was I going to tell my parents? I was in a fog. Even thought the room was now filled with Anna and Dr. Alphonso Walker, I never felt so alone. Dr. Walker was explaining the next steps, but I could not hear him or comprehend what he was saying. All I could hear and see were my 2 young children. How much time did I have left to do everything and anything with them so that they would always remember their mother?
The following days were all about testing. Not only did I have tests to see what stage and what type of breast cancer I had, I had tests to scan my whole body for cancer and a test to see how strong my heart was. I was stuck with so many needles I was surprised I didn’t leak when I drank any liquid. In all the grief and anger, it was nice to hear that I had the heart of a teenager!
On Friday, March 21, 2008, Good Friday, I was told I had Stage 3 Breast Cancer and what the course would be for my treatment. I lifted my head to ask Dr. Walker what my chances of survival were and he didn’t hesitate when he said that they were going to cure me and I would live to be an old lady! As I drove home through a blizzard, I knew the only place for me to go that afternoon was to my church. I had to pray to God, I had to ask him to protect me and to protect my children. As I walked up the aisle to the cross, my neighbor was also coming to the cross. Our eyes met as we bent to kiss the cross and she knew right away that my journey was about to begin. And it was at that moment that I decided no more tears! It was time for my family and me to buckle down and concentrate on fighting this horrible disease.
I was soon introduced to the best team of doctors and we discussed my treatment: 6 sessions of chemo, mastectomy and radiation. Dr. Walker placed my port above my heart and on April 10 (my dad’s birthday), my husband and I entered the chemo world. That was a tough weekend for me, I was so sick, I couldn’t keep anything down and didn’t want to eat or drink anything. When my mother walked into my room the following Monday, she left the room crying and told my husband and brother I was dying and she just couldn’t bear to see her daughter like this. Before my next chemo session, my oncologists asked what happened the last time, so I now was set to get an anti-nausea medication the day after chemo. Wow, what a huge difference that made! I still didn’t eat that much, but I wasn’t chained to the bathroom for the whole weekend. I had my doctors laughing one day when I told them the pro side of chemo was that I no longer had to shave my legs or armpits and I could get showered and dressed a lot faster since I didn’t have any hair to deal with. I can’t lie, it was heartbreaking that first day when the clumps of hair fell out in the shower, but I soon took control of that situation by shaving it all off.
Throughout the whole course of my treatments, I never felt like I was a number of just another patient. Everyone, from my chemo nurses to the appointment coordinator, knew my name and situation. I never had to explain my story. If I had to pick the best moment of my journey, it would be the weekend my mother, father, sister and brothers shaved their heads to show their love and support. And if I do say so myself, my family has awesome bald heads!
My journey, although it will never be over, has made me a strong person. I never thought I would have the ability to stay so positive and upbeat throughout the whole thing. I have learned not to sweat the small stuff. A clean house doesn’t matter; it’s nice, but it doesn’t matter if your house is dirty if you are spending time with loved ones. It’s more important to me to play outside with my kids than it is to wash the dishes. There is always tomorrow! I know it’s a cliché, but I truly live, laugh and love!
Even though my children don’t remember too much of my treatments, they do remember how strong I was and that I never backed down and let my diagnosis define me. I never tried to hide anything from them and was open about what was happening. I feel this helped my children develop into caring, compassionate and empathetic people. They both help others before helping themselves. What more could a mother ask for?
Kim Utech
In February 2010, I found a small lump in my left breast during my monthly self exam. I had a history of fibrocystic breast disease and this was not the first lump I’d found, so I wasn’t too concerned when I saw my OB-GYN a couple days later. She also thought it was most likely a cyst so we took a “wait and see” approach. When I went in for my annual mammogram in December, it came back normal but the lump was obviously still there. My OB-GYN ordered an ultrasound, which revealed a large 8cm tumor. The next day I had a biopsy that confirmed cancer and two days later (December 23) I had surgery to have a port put in. Since my cancer was so advanced (Stage 3C), in the lymph nodes and large, the oncology team decided to do chemo first, then a double mastectomy, then radiation. SO . . . 16 chemos, 3 surgeries and 31 radiation therapies later I am overjoyed to tell the world I AM IN REMISSION!
Marge Vetter
To me, finding out about breast cancer was not as hard as having to tell my family and friends. Once I knew I had it, I was ok with it and was ready to get rid of it, start treatment and move on. I knew with Faith, Family and Friends I would get through this. What I didn’t realize, was how much it would affect others. Their hurt and concern showed and saddened me. My two sisters and my mom would now have to answer yes, each year during their mammogram that they have a sister or daughter that has breast cancer and their chances of getting it have increased.