Here's a sampling. We'll share more through the rest of the month.
Lauren McClure, Kettering
Usually October passes with me faintly noticing the abundance of pink around me. Breast cancer just meant pink ribbons on my box of wheat thins or the commercials of bald women finishing a race for the cure on television. This October is completely different. In August I noticed a rather large lump on my left breast directly under my nipple. I was hesitant to see my doctor because I do not have health insurance and I am a 22-year-old with a car payment.
When I told my parents, they sent me to our family physician. He said I had the right to be nervous, but he could almost 90 percent say it wasn't breast cancer. I have only one person in my family who has ever been diagnosed and that is my mother's cousin. (The physician) said he just doesn't see 22-year-olds walk in with breast cancer. A few weeks later I had surgery at Miami Valley Hospital to have the mass removed. The surgeons there also said I had nothing to worry about. About four hours later, after I had spent time in the recovery room, my surgeons came in. They said they found cancer.
You cannot believe the shock it sent through my body. A month later it still does not seem real. I was diagnosed Sept. 4 and on Sept. 29 had a bilateral mastectomy. Fortunately, the plastic surgeons were able to do immediate implants but I do have a port in my chest for chemo treatments. All my lymph nodes came back negative and no other masses were found.
It has been about a week and a half since my surgery. I am slow moving, but moving. The first few days were emotionally hard because I couldn't get out of bed; my mother had to help me wash myself.
Most 22-year-olds are just getting familiar with their bodies and now I've lost something I had once cherished as being a woman. I still have not looked at my scars. I think it will set the reality in.
I have my days where I cry but usually it's very little. For the most part I've found I have made humor out of my disease. It's easier on me and I know it is easier on the people who love me, who often don't know what to say or do.
I guess I felt compelled to write because I am still swallowing the shock of this. I am thinking of the long-term effects of chemo: Will I be able to have children? How will I ever pay for this?
I know I am not the only young person to be diagnosed. Even 65 is too young, in my mind. But I do feel alone in this because everyone wants to share their mom's, aunt's, cousin's, sister's, survival story with me.
Their story isn't mine. My story isn't theirs. It's hard to think that I've had this painful surgery and my own mother has never had to endure anything like it. Instead she has to sit and watch her youngest daughter cry because she is frustrated that she cannot get out of bed.
No, it isn't fair, but I am embracing this because life wouldn't have handed it to me unless I could take it. Unless I can be positive and uplifting about it.
I know you will read many stories, all of which are touching and are tributes to amazing women. I never thought I would include my face among those brave women, but here I am!!
A group of my friends, family and co-workers are joining me for the Strides Walk; we'll be wearing yellow shirts that say: "Lauren's Lovely Lady Lumps."
Rita Holmes, Hamilton
I wouldn't take my cancer experience back for the world. It was one of the most devastating experiences in my life, but it was also one of the most eye-opening.
I was diagnosed in March 2008, and had surgery, chemo and radiation. My advice to women who have just been diagnosed is to stay calm and stay positive. Don't think of the cancer as a death sentence; there's so much help now out there. I also found a whole world of people out there who care for you — whether they know you or not. I'm talking about people in general, not just medical people. I blogged my whole experience and had more people write to me just to let me know what I was going through had helped them. The blogging allowed me to express myself, it was easier than just talking person-to-person.
Anyone is welcome to read my blog: www.ritaholmes.blogspot.com You'll need to read the archives starting in February 2008.
Tammy Ulery, Springfield
I was first diagnosed in May 2009 and had surgery in June. I had insurance, but was worried about how much out-of-pocket I would be paying because I'm a single mom, age 44.
I called the Regional Cancer Center in Springfield and asked about financial assistance. They directed me to someone at the American Cancer Society who was able to assist me with resources. I ended up not having to pay anything. My advice is don't ever put off your treatment due to your financial status or worries; there's always help. One example? I required a test that cost $4,000 and ended up paying only $24. The American Cancer Society is there to assist you in finding financial aid.
Phyllis Rudokas, breast care coordinator, Atrium Medical Center, Middletown
Early detection is the key to survival. Women need to be proactive about your health. You have a sense of your own body: breasts can be lumpy, but if you have an abnormality or a lump, even at a young age, you should follow up with it and see your family doctor or ob/gyn. If you have family history of breast cancer, you should get baseline mammograms between ages 25-30, especially if you have first-degree relatives such as a mother or sister who've had breast cancer. If you don't have insurance coverage for mammograms, don't let that keep you from coming in. There are programs available to help.
I believe you should still do a self-exam: you should look in the mirror, put your hands over your head, at your side and on your hips and make sure there's no skin pulled in, especially in the nipple area.
The not-knowing is the scariest. I try to navigate women through the process so we shorten the length of time from diagnosis to treatment. We try to obtain biopsy results within 24-48 hours to reduce the stress on patients.
On the other hand, this is not a heart attack or stroke that needs immediate attention. If you have a vacation planned and want to go, the biopsy doesn't always need to be done tomorrow. Most women want it done tomorrow because it's something in their breast that shouldn't be there — whether it's benign or malignant – and they want to find out. We try to do whatever's best for them.
Susan Redmond, Centerville
In October 2003, after having a routine mammogram, I was diagnosed with Stage 2 breast cancer. That fall as I began to organize myself for the regimen that lay ahead, I continued to work in my garden. I planted new tulips, and as I was planting, I realized that gardening is a form of prayer and hope. I prayed that I would see the flowers in the spring, and that long winter of chemo would be but a memory. I am now in my sixth year of recovery, but I continue to look at fall gardening as an affirmation of hope and an appreciation for having been given another year.
Melissa Kramer, Oakwood
I chose to be genetically tested for the BRCA genes due to a family history of the disease. My test came back positive for the BRCA1 gene mutation. Even though my mammograms showed no signs of breast cancer, I elected to have a mastectomy as a preventative measure. Through the pre-operative round of testing, it was discovered that I had two tumors that had gone undetected. Instead of being a proactive BRCA1 positive cancer-free patient, I had just become a cancer patient.
After my mastectomy, the pathology on my tumor came back as a very, very aggressive form of cancer called "triple negative breast cancer," which is quite common in persons with the BRCA1 mutation. Fortunately, it was a Stage 1 breast cancer with no lymph involvement.
Had I not sought genetic testing, my next mammogram would have been in January 2010. At that point, I would have been dealing with a possible terminal diagnosis due to the very aggressive nature of my cancer type. Genetic testing and my choice to seek it saved my life from this hidden tumor spreading cancer throughout my body.
Diane Butler-Hughes, Bellbrook
I've come across so many women over the years who still think that if they just get a mammogram, they'll be "safe." It just worries me that breast cancer organizations and the medical world aren't doing a better job of getting the message out. There are rarer types of breast cancer that just can't be detected on a mammogram —the type I have is one of those.
I always had normal results on mammograms — even the one I had two weeks before my mastectomy. I didn't have a lump but a "thickening" that continued to grow and I was constantly told I had cysts — even after a biopsy and ultrasound. From the first time I felt the thickening in my breast to the time I was finally diagnosed, it had been nearly two years — by then the cancer had spread throughout my breast and into many lymph nodes and I was diagnosed at Stage 3 after surgery. It was after all of that I learned that my tumor was "radiographically silent" — it just couldn't be detected by a mammogram. When women hear my story they just can't believe it — they didn't know such a thing was possible.
I now have Stage 4 breast cancer — it spread to my bones in 2004 and then again to my lungs and bronchial tubes in 2008. This time around, I've been undergoing chemotherapy for the past 20 months. My advice to women today who feel anything in their breast as suspicious is to just find a good surgeon and have it taken out — no matter what the tests "say."
It is very important not only to get mammograms, but to do breast self-exams and see a doctor for a physical exam of the breasts on a regular basis.
Franci Schwab, Bethel Twp., Miami County
I have a story that's more than one of survival and hope. If shared, it might significantly improve the quality of life for breast cancer survivors living in pain from lymphedema and extensive surgeries. It's as simple as physical therapy and it seems to be seldom considered for breast cancer patients.
It comes at a point where we, as survivors, are completely grateful to be alive, and living with pain on a daily basis seems a small price to pay. I believe there are many women like me, completely unaware that we may be able to reduce much of our pain and live more fully this life that we now so appreciate.
Having undergone double mastectomy, lymph node dissection, extensive reconstruction including both lat dorsi and abdominal flaps, along with chemo and radiation and given more than my fair share of loving support from my family and friends, I was more than grateful to be "back." Returning to work proved to be an obstacle as my work as a tool and die maker had been sent overseas and I was now transferred to a warehousing operation where I packed boxes all night. Lymphedema became a constant battle in my arm, and chest pain was exhausting me both mentally and physically.
As luck would have it, I was led to Amy, a physical therapist with a gift. Within the first visit she diagnosed problem areas and began to make improvements not only in my chest pain, but surprisingly the lymphedema and related pain my arm.
She immediately recognized that my back muscles had failed to get the message that they were to take up the slack left by the missing muscle and instead had decided not to do any significant work. Although I had worked to maintain full range of motion with my affected arm, we realized that there were motions that it too had forgotten.
My chest had been becoming more drawn and weak from adhesions and effects from radiation. Amy developed a program of exercises to target all these areas and we quickly began to see improvements.
We have been able to keep all of this under control with a program specifically targeted for me to do at home. I may never be able to pack boxes for 40 hours a week, but I am actually grateful that this job brought my situation to a tipping point in a matter of months and led me to help. Otherwise, my condition would have slowly deteriorated over years and been accepted as "it is what it is."
I feel I have been given a gift and by sharing my story I may be able to pass that gift along to someone else.
Dave D'Amico, Kettering
I know it is constantly stated how devastating and emotional it is when you are first told of your beginning battle with an unknown foe. My wife and I have lived through that very difficult and breathtaking moment. Peggy, my wife, took the news in the doctor's office, went home, cried for a couple of hours and then made her mind up nothing was going to stop her or beat her. At that time our son, Anthony, was 15 years old and really did not comprehend just how difficult the initial battle was going to be. The three of us made an everlasting bond with each other: together, the three of us would conquer this beast. We divided up all family and household responsibilities between my son and me. Peg's only job was to remain strong and deal with the very aggressive treatment she was to undertake.
I truly believe Peg's positive and quick decision not to sit and wallow in self-pity made it easy for Anthony and me to become strong for her. We all kept focused and remained positive and strong in our commitment to beat this disease. People do not understand how this disease does not discriminate, pick people or give ground for those who must deal with it. Every day is a great day and remaining positive and taking control of your life does wonders to fight it. Mentally it is exhausting, but when one of us gets down, the others pick up for them. We are believers in the team approach and are convinced this has helped Peg fight the good fight for the past three years....
Peg is going to take a journey with her cousin Terry Shelton, who is also a breast cancer survivor. They will be walking the three-day Susan G. Komen walk for the cure in Dallas. I don't do this for any notoriety for my wife or our family. I do this for the sole purpose of helping get the word out about this unrelenting disease. The real heroes in all this are those that take up the cause. If you do nothing else, go to the web site for this three-day walk (www.the3day.org) and read about some of the teams and who they walk for. This isn't about just the survivors — it is about those who have gone before their time and those that still hold them dearly to their hearts.
Jan Burke-Brown, Centerville
In September 2003, I found a strange thing happening to my left breast — I had an inverted nipple. My ob-gyn checked me out, suggested I repeat my mammogram and ultrasound — everything showed up clear. By November, my breast had gotten hot, with the skin getting kind of wrinkled. My doctor arranged for me to see a surgeon and after an inconclusive needle biopsy (still no lump), I had a surgical biopsy which showed cancer.
I had a rare and very aggressive cancer called Inflammatory Breast Cancer. It is misnamed "inflammatory" because of its frequent symptom of the breast getting hot. The cancer manifests itself more like a sheet of cancer under the skin rather than in a lump. It is often misdiagnosed as an infection and while fiddling around with antibiotics, it is spreading like crazy. Inflammatory Breast Cancer is always treated as a Stage III B disease.
It took nine months of treatment and five years of an estrogen suppressor, but I'm still here. Some years back, and still too frequently today, almost everybody died from this disease. It was misdiagnosed and the lack of a lump fooled doctors. They might have studied about this in med school, but probably never saw it. And the real killer is that most women have never heard of it. I care more about women knowing about it — doctors just can't be expected to know everything, particularly really rare things. So women have to save themselves. I don't want to scare everybody since this IS truly rare.
The IBCR Web page lists these possible symptoms, which can also be present in some benign breast disorders: swelling, usually sudden, itching, colored area sometimes with texture similar to the skin of an orange, ridges and thickened areas of the skin, nipple retraction, nipple discharge, breast is warm to the touch, breast pain, change in color and texture of the areola. To learn more, check out the Inflammatory Breast Cancer Research organization, www.ibcresearch.org
Janet Schreiber, Kettering
What I have realized from being a breast cancer survivor is prayers really work. Family and friends are blessings beyond all understanding. Take on an attitude to win the battle and overcome the fears of the unknowns. Get involved with your health team. Let them know that you want to beat the cancer into remission. Life is like a game of PacMan and it really is up to you to make the right choices.
Connie B. Wright, Centerville
I was diagnosed last December and had surgery at the end of the month. I went through chemo and radiation until July 1, and guess what?? I FEEL GOOD!!! I decided at the very beginning that I would make the best of this situation! Attitude is everything! My goal was that my attitude would be "This glass is half full," and not "half empty." Now almost 10 months later, I still feel this way.
When my hair started falling out after a chemo treatment, I went to my husband's barber and two of my high school friends, Sue and Linda, took pictures. We laughed and laughed and just went on to lunch, and, of course, I started wearing hats. I didn't buy a wig, but I sure bought a lot of hats and big earrings! I even thought of calling the mayor of Dayton to find out where she bought her hats! Several women who were going through chemo told me that I inspired them, and this compliment really made me feel great!
I am so thankful that I had my family and friends to help me through everything. Now I am ready to get on with the rest of my life!
Sharon Bown, Beavercreek
Knowing just what to say to someone diagnosed with a life-threatening illness is difficult. Most meaningful to me was a card with a sincere "I am sorry to learn of your diagnosis and let me know if there is anything I can do for you."
As a seven-year survivor of breast cancer, there were several friends who really helped me with their thoughtful actions and words. Three in particular were so great. Two were previous breast cancer survivors. It is so meaningful to have a friend who has really been through it before you to be there for you. Another friend just sent a two- or three-line cheery e-mail or a peppy card in the mail every once in a while. But the one I really hold dear was so unexpected. It was from a younger guy who was married to a work associate of my husband's who shared the same passion in a college sports team. He wrote in an e-mail his regret in hearing my diagnosis and how cancer had affected his family. He said with advances in medicine and such great care, "Sharon," he said, "I know your name is going to be on that long list of cancer survivors!"
I am so grateful for my core friends who let me talk when I was ready. What I did not like was people phoning me. These were my good friends and I know they meant well, but when I had to repeat the same thing over and over, it was so depressing. I finally let my husband handle the phone and just one person, of my various different groups would call, and get any updates.
Contact this reporter at (937) 225-2440 or MMoss@DaytonDailyNews.com.
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