It couldn’t have come at a worse time. My Mom was suffering from dementia; my fiancée’s twelve-year-old daughter was struggling immensely with accepting our four-year relationship, my marketing career was in overdrive, and I was barely keeping up- all on the heels of a progressively worsening drug addiction of a dear family member.
I was 44 years old in 2003 when I found the large lump in my left breast while showering one Saturday morning in May. I had little concern since breast cancer didn’t run in my family, and despite the stress in my life, I lived a healthy lifestyle. My annual physical happened to be scheduled for the following Tuesday morning. It was the last normal day of my life.
My nurse practitioner also seemed unconcerned, but to be safe sent me immediately for an ultrasound. As the technician viewed her screen, I saw something in her eyes that signaled a problem. She calmly asked, “How long have you had this?” I explained that I had just discovered it as I did not routinely perform self breast exams.
Moments later, the radiologist came in and simply said, “This will have to be removed.” I had no concept of all that would soon ensue. Things moved quickly from that moment on — the biopsy, the diagnosis of Stage III Infiltrating Lobular Carcinoma, the port-a-cath implant, the chemotherapy, the surgery, and the radiation.
I vividly remember the first time I entered Dr. Daniel Ibach’s office at the Thompson Cancer Center. It felt surreal. What was I doing here? These people were sick. I wasn’t sick. The sign -ONCOLOGY DEPARTMENT - stunned me.
Anger was my first emotion. Not a “why me?” but an “I do not have time for cancer!” anger. My to-do list was already overwhelming.
Soon, I relinquished my imaginary control realizing I had no choice—except death. One by one I let go of all of the things I had been certain were my responsibility—my mom’s care, my heavy workload, a child’s unhappiness, and my niece’s recovery.
Day by day, I adjusted. I began to feel a kinship with the other cancer patients. My doctor and his staff were tolerant, kind, funny, and full of wisdom. I learned that I could endure the treatment. I saw my Mom less, yet we both survived. I cut back my work, yet business continued. I stopped worrying about an unhappy child over whom I had no control. My niece managed her addiction without my involvement.
Today I am inspired by my five-year, happy marriage (we married during a brief chemo break!). I am keenly aware of what I could have missed—our wedding and life together, years of caring r my beloved Mom, conversations with my recovering niece, meeting my beautiful now two- year old niece, and a reduced work schedule that has allowed me a more balanced life. My step daughter is now 18 and doing well. My new normal is better. Breast cancer— it couldn’t have come at a better time.