When I was a child growing up in an underdeveloped country where good medical care was rare or too expansive for most, cancer meant certain death.  Now with advances in medical research the moniker “cancer survivor” is a reality.  My mother died of cancer and ten years later my sister became a cancer survivor.

My mother was an otherwise healthy woman in her early sixties when doctors found a lump on her back. Despite the doctors and the family’s insistence, she refused to have a biopsy, out of fear that the needle would damage her spinal cord and render her handicap.  “I leave it all in God’s hands,“ she said.  But without the proper diagnosis, the doctors could not give her the appropriate treatment. She was in and out of the hospital over the course of the next two years, and her condition became progressively worse.

It was a tough time for the family and I, her oldest, worried constantly. Mom lived by herself. She’d be fine for a while, then the phone call would come in that she had to be rushed to the hospital. I watched her suffer as the cancer did its ravage and her health deteriorated and all the while she hoped prayers alone would heal her.  Eventually she became too ill to function. When she finally acquiesced to chemotherapy it was too late. The disease had invaded her entire body and her organs began to fail. She died shortly thereafter. I was devastated!

My sister was in her early forties when a lump was found in her breast during a routine exam. A biopsy confirmed cancer.

Not again! Not my baby sister!

I panicked. All I could think about was mom’s ordeal and subsequent death and that of two of her sisters back home who I later realized had also died of cancer from the lack of medical care. I didn’t want to lose my favorite sister. I didn’t want to see her suffer. I prayed.

My sister remained stoic and confident that she was going to beat this thing.  Family and friends rallied around her in prayer as she reviewed her options with the doctors. Thankfully, her cancer had been detected early and the ensuing surgery involved only the removal of the lump and her left nymph nodes. Radiation and chemotherapy treatments followed and she was cancer free.

It’s been several years now and my beloved sister is not only a cancer survivor, she is healthy and vibrant and has a full life. She is raising three daughters as a single mom in addition to being a sergeant in the U.S. army and just this year she adopted two little girls from the foster system, her way of giving back.

My mother was a woman of faith who prayed for a miracle but neglected to do her part to make it happen. But my sister is proof that faith without action means nothing. Even when we pray and hope, we must cooperate with God by acting on that faith.  In my sister’s case, regular check-ups and  early detection made the disease manageable; our prayers worked with the medical technology to save her life. Miracles are happening every day.

Danielle Coulanges is the author of “Cads, Princes & Best Friends, A Tale of Lust, Love & Redemption”.  To learn more about Danielle, check out her website.

My name is Wendy McCoole and I was diagnosed with breast cancer at the age of 42 – the same age my mother was when she was first diagnosed 25 years earlier.  Ironic.

Things were VERY different for her – people didn’t want to talk about breast cancer back then.  When she went to the doctor’s office … alone, because no one prepared her for what she might expect (so Dad stayed home) … the nurses wouldn’t make eye contact with her after the doctor so matter-of-factly blurted out the news that she had breast cancer.  They simply sent her home with nothing but an appointment card for the next week.  I can’t even imagine what was going through her mind as she sat in the parking lot shaking and sobbing.  She refers to this as being a very dark time in her life.

I was more fortunate.  I had a wonderful surgeon who canceled all his appointments to see me and my husband the afternoon that we learned of my cancer.  Although I was terrified, I also had a calming sense about me that suggested I would be OK.  And I was…and I am.  So is Mom.  And the beast even came back to visit her three more times – two more rounds of breast cancer and more recently a diagnosis of lung cancer.  But we caught them all early and she’s doing great.

She is my hero.

What is SIMILAR about our collective journeys is our choosing to give back…to help make lives of breast cancer patients just a little bit better.  Back in the late 70s my Mom worked furiously – for ten years – to get a support group started at our local hospital.  Why ten years?  Because the doctors thought it was a crazy notion that people would want to talk about such a thing.  They scoffed at her desire to provide an emotional outlet for breast cancer patients to talk and share and connect with others going through something similar.

In addition to the support group at our hospital, my mother was also very instrumental in co-founding the NH Breast Cancer Coalition.  And more recently – in 2004 when I was going through my own bout with breast cancer – she was my BIGGEST supporter.  I heard the pain in her voice when I told her over the phone that the lump was in fact breast cancer.  I think somehow she may have thought she gave it to me.  And I recall, as if it was yesterday, my then 18-year-old daughter saying, “I’m going to get this too, aren’t I”?  With a warm hug (and a lump in my throat) I comforted her and told her we would do whatever we could to make sure that didn’t happen.

When I went through my treatments in 2004 it was really hard keeping my friends and family updated as to how I was doing.  I didn’t want to bother them and more often they didn’t know how to ask.  It was very challenging for everyone involved…not just for me as the patient.  So I decided to create a website called Bald Wendy where I would keep an online account of my latest treatments – photos and all.  That way, people could visit the site at their leisure and read how I was doing.

What happened soon after changed my life.

At first I recognized the entries in my guestbook, but suddenly there were notes from people I didn’t know.  They too were going through breast cancer…and they were afraid.  They thanked me for sharing my story so openly and honestly and it soon became clear to me that if my ONE story could touch that many people, imagine if we could create a community where ANYONE could write, read, share…and connect.

With the incredible support of my family I left my corporate career as a marketing manager and founded a non-profit organization called BreastCancerStories.org.  It’s an online community where breast cancer patients can stay connected with family, friends and with one another while going through treatment.  It is somewhat like a blog site but what makes this community truly unique is that its visitors can search through the stories by age, location, type of breast cancer and treatment, and find others going through a similar experience.

We are in the process of completely redeveloping the site so it not only provides our members with an even greater personal experience, but it will also allow for smaller communities to be created within the larger community – communities (clubs) that focus on every day life and not just the breast cancer diagnosis.  For example we’ll be able to connect single mothers, patients with partners, ethnic backgrounds and caregivers.

This has been a tremendous life changing experience for both of us, and now we get to share it and give back to others every day…Mom is on our Board of Directors.  We both feel very blessed.

Wendy McCoole is a breast cancer survivor and the executive director and founder of BreastCancerStories.org, a nonprofit, 501(c)3 organization.  It is a community for all  and there are no fees associate with the site.  To read more stories, please visit BreastCancerStories.org.

In my last book “One Year to an Organized Life,” I wrote an Epilogue that honors my best friend and the extraordinary contribution she made to my journey back to health.  Two surgeries and six rounds of chemotherapy was a daunting task…especially for someone who doesn’t even take aspirin!  Here is my tribute to Susie…

Epilogue

At the end of a year of organizing projects, you should be feeling quite proud of yourself.  Those endless stacks of papers, magazines and newspapers are gone.  You can find whatever you need in your closet, your kitchen or among your DVD’s.  Your friends are calling you a Martha Stewart wannabe because you’re always inviting them over.  Whatever it looks like in your home, you know what they say: ‘You’ve come a long way, baby.’

Now I have a little secret to share with you.  It’s only stuff. That’s right.  It’s only stuff.  On the other hand, the skills you have learned when it comes to dealing with possessions are truly a ‘pearl of great price.’  You have developed a life skill that will serve you in all the myriad challenges of life.  I’ve been a professional organizer for 20 years.  I myself didn’t know this truth until five years ago.  How did I find out?  My best friend told me.

Sometimes in life you’re going along just fine, thank you, when suddenly your world falls apart.  We’ve all been there.  On July 27, 2002 my ob/gyn called to tell me the results of a biopsy done the day before during a D&C.  I had cancer.

I was to have a total abdominal hysterectomy with staging for cancer followed by 6 rounds of chemotherapy. I only heard the diagnosis.  By the time he got to ‘staging for cancer’ I not only didn’t know what he was talking about, I didn’t care. I needed to hang up and call my best friend.  Susie was living in Arizona at the time.  I called her about 10:30 in the morning.  By early evening she was sitting next to me.”

As I sat blubbering on my couch, a mass of fear and anguish, my wonderful friend gave me the advice that brought me through the experience.  She said: “What is it you teach people, Regina? You teach them that the whole of anything is overwhelming and you have to break things down into small, manageable chunks, right?”  I nodded ‘yes’ wondering why she was talking about organizing when I had cancer.  “Well,” said my wise friend, “you don’t have to face everything all at once.  Every day when you get up, you only have to take care of what’s on your plate for that day.  For the next month, you need to get strong for your operation.”

Bingo!  I had my modus operandi for the next six months. I found ‘One day at a time’ to be overwhelming. I lived breath to breath.

I’ve cautioned you not to let yourself be overwhelmed when you tackled a big project.  This was the project of my lifetime.  The Magic Formula took on new meaning.  I eliminated everything that wasn’t related to my healing or my survival. I categorized. And oh did I organize! During my time with cancer, I wrote my second book; ghost wrote a book for another author and prepped a one hour cable television special!  You would be surprised what you can accomplish with the Magic Formula.  I’m living proof.

As you go through your life, from this point on, if your world turns upside down, remember you’re a Zen Organizer. You’ve got a Magic Formula.  I just celebrated my sixth anniversary as a survivor.  How will you use the information in this book to serve you and your life?  The closet, the garage and the kitchen are all in order.  What’s next for you?  Life is waiting.

“Let your life be as deep as the ocean, but let it also be as wide as the sky.”  Vivekananda

Regina Leeds just celebrated her sixth year as a survivor.  She is a professional organizer and the author of 6 books including New York Times best seller “One Year to an Organized Life.”  She lives outside Los Angeles and can be reached at www.reginaleeds.com.

At age 28 after 9 years of college, I achieved my lifetime dream of becoming a veterinarian. At age 33, when I should have been enjoying my new career, my marriage, a new home, and a young child, I was struck “out-of-the-blue” with breast cancer. Prior to my diagnosis I considered myself at low risk for the disease—I lived a healthy lifestyle and had no family history of breast cancer. Yet there were red-flags in my medical records, hints that would have alerted a health care team better educated in cancer genetics that my cancer might be hereditary. I learned about the existence of genetic testing for hereditary cancer not from my doctors, but from a magazine article. I also discovered that I fit the criteria for a possible hereditary cancer syndrome. My young-onset breast cancer, and the fact that my paternal grandmother died at a young age of ovarian cancer were indicative of the possibility of a BRCA mutation. I chose to pursue genetic counseling and genetic testing and learned that I carry a BRCA 2 mutation which predisposed me to cancer. I also learned that my relatives and child could carry this same mutation.

Going through chemotherapy and radiation with a toddler at home was not easy. But I was fortunate to have the support and help from my husband. During my treatment I also contemplated the decisions that I would have to manage my elevated risk for ovarian cancer and a second breast cancer. I had wanted more children, but fearful of ovarian cancer which had taken my grandmother at a young age, I chose to have my ovaries and tubes surgically removed after I completed treatment for my breast cancer. The surgery threw me into menopause at age 35.

At that time there were no support groups or organizations to help me deal with the issues raised by my BRCA test results. After my treatment I returned to my veterinary practice while continuing to educate myself about the genetic mutation and my options for reducing risk for further cancer, and the ways these choices might affect my family. I learned that there are many more people like myself – an estimated 750,000 – 1 million people in the United States – who had a hereditary predisposition to cancer. Women with a BRCA mutation face a lifetime risk for cancer that is as high as 90%! Many have watched generation after generation and family member after family member—sisters, aunts, mothers, daughters—battle and survive or succumb to cancer—often at a young age. Most have had to make the difficult decision between living in fear of cancer or sacrificing healthy breasts and ovaries to prevent cancer. I resolved that these women should not have to face these complicated and troubling issues alone. Although I had no training in nonprofit work, I recognized the huge need for an organization to support, educate, unite and advocate for women at risk for hereditary breast and ovarian cancer. Ten years ago I founded FORCE: Facing Our Risk of Cancer Empowered, the only national nonprofit organization serving those affected by a BRCA mutation or hereditary cancer.

But the demands of veterinary work, managing a nonprofit organization and being a mother to my child as well as dealing with post-cancer treatment fatigue left me feeling unsatisfied as a veterinarian, a mother, a spouse and an executive director of a nonprofit organization. I realized that I would have to make a choice between my chosen career, and what was now a passion and calling—advocating for people like myself. In August 2002, with a heavy heart and full of trepidation, I gave up my eleven-year career as a veterinarian to become FORCE’s full-time executive director and director of our programs. I never looked back!

Since then our organization has seen amazing growth. We have a wide menu of programs including our Joining FORCEs newsletter, our website with comprehensive information about hereditary breast and ovarian cancer, our blog, outreach groups in over 40 cities, and our Joining FORCEs annual conference, the only national conference by and for the hereditary cancer community. Our website receives over 2 million hits-per-month, we were recently featured in a documentary, In The Family that aired on PBS, and “previvor” the term that we coined for high-risk individuals who do not have cancer was named a top-ten buzzword by Time Magazine.

The work has been personally fulfilling. The amazing growth and breadth of FORCE and feedback I’ve received from members of our community confirm that I made the right career choice. Since leaving my practice I’ve had the opportunity to travel and speak to audiences about hereditary cancer risk, to help steer health policies on cancer risk and prevention, to provide a voice and forum to a high-risk community, and to direct an organization that has been a leader in advocating for individuals and families affected by hereditary cancer. Most importantly, I have learned that life after cancer can be richly rewarding. Twelve years ago, my life momentarily stopped with a diagnosis of breast cancer. Now at age 45 I can say that I am happier than I have ever been. I hope that my story can provide hope and inspiration for others who are facing the challenge of a cancer diagnosis.

Sue Friedman founded the national nonprofit organization Facing Our Risk of Cancer Empowered in 1999 after learning she carried a mutation that led to her breast cancer at age 33. In 2003, Sue retired from veterinary medicine to direct FORCE full-time. Sue also works at the H. Lee Moffitt Cancer Center and Research Institute in Tampa, FL as an outreach coordinator for their Cancer Genetics Program. . She participates as an advocate on the National Comprehensive Cancer Network (NCCN) panel that develops standard-of-care guidelines in oncology and volunteers for the National Cancer Institute’s CARRA program (consumer advocates in research and related activities).

An epiphany, awakening, or an AHA Moment are different terms used to describe an experience that changes your life forever. Mine hit when I was only seventeen. My parents had just gone bankrupt and moved our family to the other side of the country to live with my grandparents on their farm. I was at a new school, in a new city, commuting 2 hours to school each way, every day. One wintry afternoon in December I phoned my dad from the pay phone in the school cafeteria to find out how my mom’s lumpectomy had gone. Standing alone in the midst of the noise and chaos of my high-school lunchroom surrounded by strangers, I learned my mother had breast cancer.

My childhood had always played out like a scene in a movie or a paperback novel. Real moments intersected with surreal experiences. But nothing was as life altering as facing the possibility of my mother dying. I was shocked that cancer could strike MY family. That it could unwittingly take aim on the strongest most vibrant person I knew.

My mother had a radical mastectomy. For weeks after her surgery those words were nothing more than a medical term to me. Determined to get well quickly, with youth on her side, my mother, only forty-one, was strong, resilient and courageous. She was recovering well – exercising and reading books about people who had survived cancer. To be honest I don’t think she even realized what was happening to her.

The moment she removed her bandages, things changed. A tender pink scar scooped across her beautiful, bony chest. The doctor clearly made no attempt to leave it looking pretty, and yet to me it was so shockingly beautiful, perhaps because everything about my mom had always been beautiful to me. She was fun loving, caring and sincere. When she entered a room, you knew she was there. She had an undeniable energy.

The scar on her chest was a constant reminder of her brush with death. A sense of invincibility was replaced with panic and anxiety. I became my mother’s source of comfort, her therapist, and her confidante. She would wake me at 2:00 in the morning with fear in her eyes, begging me to stay up with her until the sound of rain on the roof stopped, or the sun rose to take away the darkness of the night. I would talk to her, hold her hands, calm her, and make her laugh to distract her from the impending feeling of doom that overwhelmed her.

Life was never the same for me. I hadn’t even dated a boy, yet I felt like I was caring for a child. In the midst of my youth when most teenagers were following the latest trends in music and fashion, I was studying quantum healing, macrobiotics and the meaning of life.

Terrified to leave my mom for university, I put my plans on hold. For three years I was my mother’s pillar of strength, and she was my hero. We were learning from each other and sincerely appreciative for the beauty of our friendship.

The experience of my mother’s breast cancer was the first time in my life I felt truly passionate about a cause. I knew I wanted to give back somehow, to make a difference, to help find a cure. My mother had sacrificed a breast for life.

How could I ever forget?

Years later, I was working at Wal-Mart head office in the marketing department. Breast cancer was beginning to gain more public awareness. I asked my boss if I could create a themed breast cancer awareness month at Wal-Mart called “Think Pink for a Cure.” I enlisted the support of apparel and beauty manufacturers. We had an outstanding show of support. It was a huge success creating awareness and raising funds.

Through my mother’s illness I learned invaluable lessons about the power of love, hope, and health. I learned about the capabilities every individual has to affect positive change in the world, no matter how big or small. And I learned that to be inspired by one persons experience could take us off our original path and lead us to a place of far greater meaning and purpose than we could have imagined.

Two of my mother’s sisters have since had breast cancer. It is an inescapable part of our family history. But it wasn’t just a disease my mother had; it gave her a platform that allowed her to impart wisdom, grace and to teach me the true definition of the beauty and power of womanhood. I am forever grateful to my mother for who I am today. She is a constant source of inspiration.

Kim MacGregor is a wife and proud mother of three girls. She is a best-selling author who has written an award wining inspirational women’s book, Be…a Woman: expressions of life, inspired by and dedicated to her mother. She is a motivational speaker, sharing a message of empowerment and acceptance among young girls and women. To find out more about how you can be part of the perception revolution by joining her pledge, THE PROMISE to help change the language used to define womanhood stop by be-awoman.com.

Forty four years of age. 5’8” fit and with a good build. Her face beams with a gorgeous smile positively affecting all in her presence. On the outside you cannot tell that she is a breast cancer survivor, but it took some time for her to realize it.

This brief description describes me, Denise. I was diagnosed with breast cancer at the age of 38, and yes, it’s true, it took a devastating turn of events for me to truly realize that I am a survivor and what that means for me.

Initially, my doctor, a woman argued with me about getting a follow up mammogram. I’d already had one four months prior and it was clean. Nothing was there. My doctor reassured me that I was too young to have breast cancer and after I kept asking her to write me a referral anyway, she insisted that the insurance would not pay for a second mammogram so close to the previous one. At first I listened to her, after all she was my doctor and she knew a lot about insurance and percentages and probabilities. But I knew me, and my gut simply would not let up, so I persisted and won, I had another test.

When I received the news, the shock was more than numbing, “I’m sorry, but it looks like you do have breast cancer.” My thoughts raced around tumbling over each other: “But I’m in the best shape of my life, running 5 miles, 5 times a week, eating healthy and taking care of my mental and spiritual health. What is going on? What… is going on? Why?”

Throughout months of testing, followed by a 6 hour mastectomy surgery, followed by two 5 hour reconstruction surgeries, I would have good days and many not so good ones. Oftentimes my attitude would become flippant – “Nothing matters anymore, so I’ll eat whatever I want;” or, “Why save money, nothing matters anyway.” – I felt enormously cheated as I pondered over what I could have done to have something like this happen to me. I’d have those inevitable days when I’d argue with God and lose, which served me right, he is sovereign after all. Through it all, my mother was my rock. She flew from Nebraska and cared for me like only another woman knows how to care. We played scrabble, watched Jeopardy, she cooked, made me laugh and let me cry.

Over the next few months I slowly began to heal, figuring out my new life, my new self. A body without a breast is most definitely a body to be adjusted to, if for no other reason than you’ve had it for 25 years and now it’s gone. Vanity and thoughts of “I am more than my sexually situated breasts!” weren’t really a part of the grieving equation. Plainly put, I just missed her, my breast. I began to sort through that part of the self that asks: “Why am I still here?” “Why did I survive?”

Then one day, 5 months after I’d been told “You have breast cancer,” I got a phone call delivering the worst imaginable news, my mother had been diagnosed with breast cancer and it was advanced and aggressive. I didn’t really get the lesson that breast cancer is survivable until the next thing I knew, there we all were, gathered round, burying my mother next to hers.

That’s when it really hit me. I was a survivor. I survived. Many do not.

It wasn’t until my mother lost her life to this insidious disease that it became crystal clear that I’d better get on with the things that matter to the living; things like experiencing and spreading joy, happiness, love, friendship, family, trust, and peace, standing up for truth, helping others, and making meaning that would last long after I too was gone.

I learned to live my life like there might not be a tomorrow.

Once again, my mother taught me one of the most valuable lessons: No matter what life hands you don’t cheat yourself. Life in all of its unevenness is a gift. Your responsibility is to live it like it really matters, for one day soon it shall come to an end.

In memory of my mother I founded my company, Words to Live By Tees which creates ‘wearable motivation for your soul!’ I designed the “Resilient” tee shirt to honor those of us who survived and still fight on. I wear mine in honor of myself, I survived; and my mother, Donna, she did not.

The author is an Assistant Professor of Theatre at Howard University teaching playwriting and acting. She is the owner of the online store – Words to Live By Tees & the Motivation Mama! blog.

Over 10 years ago I was diagnosed with breast cancer and it was the BEST thing that could have happened to me.

How could I possibly say this? Because having had my own personal encounter with cancer, I discovered how empowering an experience it was and can be! If you have been diagnosed with breast cancer, I know the extraordinary message that is before you, waiting to be received. This message is seeking your attention, and your encounter with cancer is one way to bring it to your awareness.

I was 37 years of age and very scared when I heard the news.  I was even more devastated when I found out I would have to have chemotherapy and radiation treatments for the next 6 to 8 months following my lumpectomy.  I looked at the chemo as a poison, a toxic substance that would be going through my body, killing and destroying everything it touched. It may even kill me.  Those thoughts and beliefs were very dis-empowering. I felt hopelessness and despair.

I prayed and asked for an answer to come my way.  Then, a magnificent angel came into my experience, in the form of a friend and asked what would it be like if I could change my thought about all of it?  Instead of thinking of the chemo as killing and destroying everything in my body, what if I thought about it as renewing and healing everything in my body?

Wow! I had won the lottery in that moment. What an empowering way to view my circumstance!

She reminded me how each thought we think produces a feeling and that feeling produces an experience. In other words, we get what we think about! If I thought and felt the chemo was going to harm me, then my body would respond to that thought and I would attract it as my experience. If I believed it would renew and heal me, then I could have that experience instead! I came to understand that I was not a victim of circumstance, but a creator of circumstance and when I changed the way I looked at things, the things I looked at would begin to change!

When we ask for help, it is always given! I had received my answer and it was through a friend, an earth angel, a message of hope and a light at the end of the tunnel. Not only did we end up laughing about the whole thing, we decided to call it “clean-o-therapy” instead of “chemotherapy.”

You must start recognizing and listening to the messages that come your way. There are many messengers on your path and you are never walking alone. Become aware of who is playing a role in your life, and listen carefully to the words they are speaking. Everyone is mirroring to you what you are asking for. They are placed on your path to help you recreate your circumstance!

Another realization I had while going through breast cancer was how much I was loved. I was truly loved by my husband, my family and my friends. I never knew before this how much.

I became aware of how much I loved myself. Yes, you heard it right. I loved myself. I loved my power, my knowingness of spirit, my ability to create, my humor, my sorrow, my circumstance and my body. Before my cancer diagnosis, I used to hold onto anger, jealousy and feelings of not being good enough inside of me. It took an experience like breast cancer to show me to myself. I learn to let go of all my dis-ease and start loving myself. I learned to start focusing on feeling good. I learned that when I feel good, I am letting in well being.

I came to realize, over time, that my thoughts and feelings created my reality! They created what I was to experience and continue to do so to this day!  I came through the whole process feeling more empowered and with an abundance of energy!  Cancer, literally changed my life, showed me to myself and shifted my view on how I look at things forever!

I am now a life coach, an inspirational speaker, a facilitator and an author. I empower and support women who are going through cancer, and help them learn how to reclaim and restore their health, well being and joy!  I educate my clients on the law of attraction and the importance of ones thoughts, feelings, words and actions on a daily basis.

We do not have to go through life with illness and pain.  But when illness is present, we can learn from it and turn suffering into wisdom. Life is supposed to be good!

Leslie Bishop is a life coach and the author of Congratulations, You Have Cancer!  To learn more about Leslie, check out her website, Empowering Pathways.

“You have Invasive Ductal Breast Cancer, Stage 2A and the tumor is almost 3 centimeters in length” said Dr. Roger Graham at Tufts Medical Center in Boston MA.

Those words hit me like a ton of bricks.

Breast Cancer? Me? No, they made a mistake, that was some one else’s report they were reading. But, it was true and the roller coaster of emotions that struck me that day will never be forgotten as long as I live.

The journey began in September 2007 with a visit to my Primary Care Physician (PCP). You see, I did not have health insurance for about 3 years while I ran my own photography business. I just couldn’t afford it. I’m in a great relationship but Michael’s work did not have a plan for a Domestic Partner, so I really took a chance that my health would be good, and why should I worry? I’ve never been sick in my life.

Well, that’s how Breast Cancer can get you. I never felt sick, I felt fine. At 47 years old, I felt that I was in generally good health. My breast always had lumps and bumps that would come and go with my period cycles, so why would I think anything was wrong? But after a biopsy, ultrasound and a MRI performed in January/February 2008, it was confirmed that I had Breast Cancer and would need surgery, chemotherapy and radiation which would last for close to a year of treatments.

I chose to have a lumpectomy on my right breast on February 21st,. This type of procedure is just to remove the tumor and surrounding tissue, but it also involved a test of my lymph nodes in my arm. Two were positive for cancer, so they needed to remove about 10 more. The reason for this, is that the type of cancer I had, Invasive Ductal, meant it started in a milk duct, which then burst, and now the cancer had traveled to other parts of my body. Just that thought alone, took my breath away. I could have tumors in other parts of my body! Thankfully, the other nodes were negative, but it still was concluded that I would need about 9 months of treatments.

The next step in my treatments was to meet my Oncology Medical Team, Dr. Theall and Dr. Kozyreva. These two women would become my stronghold over the next several months while I endured 3 different types of chemotherapy. In addition, I signed up for a protocol, or Clinical Trial, for a drug called Avastin (Bevacizumab – generic name). This was a blinded study, so we would not know until late August if I was being given the drug or a placebo. Cancer cells actually convince your brain that they are normal cells and need blood and oxygen to survive. Avastin blocks those messages from getting through so the cancer cells eventually die. I found out that I was receiving the Avastin, so my treatments will continue for an additional 10 sessions, 3 weeks apart, ending about April 2009.

Chemotherapy treatments started on April 1st. The first round, called AC (Doxorubicin and Cyclophosphamide) was given every three weeks, for 4 treatments, through an IV, with each session lasting about 3 to 4 hours. The side effects from these two drugs were very hard for two to three days following the treatment, so those days I really needed to rest completely. This type of therapy kills all cells in your body, good and bad. They work on active cells like hair, nails, body hair, so naturally, I lost all of the hair on my head just after the 2nd treatment. My eyelashes, eyebrows, and body hair went about a month later.

The 2nd round of chemotherapy, called T (Paclitaxel or Taxol) started on June 24th on a weekly schedule for 12 weeks. This treatment was also through an IV and would last for 2 to 3 hours. Side effects were minimal and I battled fatigue more than anything due to my white blood count dropping. I finished all chemotherapy treatments in mid September 2008, and now will move onto radiation which is Monday through Friday, for a 30 minute session and will last for 6 to 7 weeks. Once this stage is over, then regular doctor visits for about the next 10 years. I will be starting a medication called Tamoxifen soon and will need to take that for the next 5 years. Tamoxifen is the oldest of all the SERMs (Selective Estrogen Receptor Modulators) and is prescribed for women with hormone-receptor-positive breast cancer before and after menopause.

What have I learned from this journey?

• I’ve learned to never take my health for granted.
• To love and live each moment at it’s best.
• That my life’s journey is not something that I can completely control, but I need to accept everything that happens and make the best of it.
• I found out who my friends really were, I lost some along the way, but I made many new friends to replace them.
• My son and daughter were always there, and I will never really be able to thank Michael for being right there with me every day
• It was important for me to close my business down and to concentrate on my healing.

For the rest of my life, I will forever be changed. Life altering situations are a way the universe directs us. I will always be here to help others who will travel down a similar path with Breast Cancer. No one can hide from this or prevent it. Just accept and heal.

Nancy Carmichael is a Boston-based photographer on a sabbatical for the next year. President of Boston Women’s Network. You can learn more about Nancy an her journey at her blog.

CELEBRITIES JOIN DESIGN-HER GALS™ TO KICK OFF 2ND ANNUAL

VIRTUAL WALK TO RAISE FUNDS AND AWARENESS FOR STAGE IV BREAST CANCER PATIENTS

KRISTIN CHENOWETH, MARG HELGENBERGER, MOLLY SIMS, LARRY KING, LISA RINNA, THE CAST OF CBS DAYTIME’S “GUIDING LIGHT” & MORE TO SERVE AS GAL TO GAL AMBASSADORS IN NATIONWIDE VIRTUAL WALK

Bend, OR – Beginning October 1, Design-her Gals, designhergals.com launches its 2nd annual interactive virtual walk to benefit the Gal to Gal Foundation, the non-profit organization dedicated to raising funds and awareness for Stage IV breast cancer patients and their families. Design-her Gals hopes to create a viral outpouring of support during October’s Breast Cancer Awareness month with a goal of registering $250,000 in 31 days. Official walk dates are October 1 – October 31, 2008.

This unique approach to philanthropy has attracted sponsors such as Franklin Covey, Epson, Glory for Girls, Momlogic, Kids Protection Plan, Gemini Greetings, Chez Shea Baby LLC as well as strategic partners such as Fodors which have pledged to mobilize their communities to join the walk. In addition, dozens of celebrity ambassadors including the entire female cast of the CBS daytime drama, “Guiding Light,” Design her Guys, Larry King and Dr. Stephen Covey, Kristin Chenoweth, Marg Helgenberger, Dayna Devon, Lisa Rinna, Denise Richards, Molly Sims, Jean Chatzky, Julie Morgenstern, Redbook editor in chief, Stacy Morrison, CW11 lifestyle reporter and bestselling relationship author Tamsen Fadal, Broadway star Deidre Goodwin among many others, will lend their support and participate in the virtual walk.

Supporters can participate in The Gal to Gal Walk by logging on to www.galtogalwalk.org and creating their virtual likeness online. Once they register, beginning October 1, they will join fellow walkers in virtual Harvard Square in Boston, MA, and will travel all the way to the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco, visiting 29 cities along the way. The landscape walkers travel through will change on a daily basis, giving people a reason to return to see where they are walking that day. New walkers will be joining all the time – sharing their stories and building momentum as more people participate in this innovative fundraising effort.

The 2nd Annual Gal to Gal Virtual Walk will also feature a host of new and innovative components designed to raise awareness and garner support for the Gal to Gal Foundation which assists patients and families battling stage IV breast cancer. These initiatives include Design Her Guys, NY Event at the Showroom of Eco-Designer Gal Robin Wilson, Mom blogger B.Y.O.L. (Bring Your Own Laptop) Fundraising Events, Team “Guiding Light” and Celebrity Viral Videos.

It’s only $5 to create your gal, but every bit helps us to fight the battle with breast cancer.  Please join us. Check you local group for special events and parties.

This Christmas will be two years since my breast cancer diagnosis and lumpectomy, and it’s nice to think I’ll be celebrating the holiday season without a black cloud hanging over my head.  I was 42 years old when I was diagnosed in December of 2006, and I was one of those cases where:

1)  My gynecologist felt the lump on physical exam in August of 2006, but insisted it was a cyst and did not request a diagnostic mammogram since I’ve had dense (lumpy) breast tissue all of my life;

2)  My annual mammogram–on September 11, ironically–completely missed the tumor (I still have the letter saying, “You’re all-clear.  See you next year”).

Luckily, I sensed something wasn’t right.  But I was so busy at the time (selling my condo, buying a house with my boyfriend, working on a book deadline) that I ignored the warning voice inside my head until three months later in early December at a brunch for my sister’s birthday.  I had sharp pin-pricks of pain in my left breast during the meal, like it was saying, “Hey, check me out, please!”  I knew then that I needed further screening, for peace of mind if nothing else. So I called my gynecologist, explained my fears, and scheduled an ultrasound for that week.  She performed another physical exam before the ultrasound and again assured me, “It’s a cyst, Susan, it’s a cyst.”

Fast forward a week later to an exam room at the Missouri Center for the Breast, where I lay on a table while the ultrasound tech smeared my chest with goop and ran the cold paddle over my skin until she located the lump.  She immediately excused herself, left the room, and brought the Chief Radiologist back with her.  He moved the paddle around some more, frowned at the monitor, and finally told me, “This is NOT a cyst.”  Whoa, boy.  Though the tech assured me that around 80% of all scary lumps aren’t cancer, I knew it was.

The biopsy was scheduled for December 19, and it revealed my worst fear:  I had breast cancer.  To be more specific, I had something called mucinous carcinoma, which only accounts for 1% to 2% of all breast cancers and is far more common in women much older.  When I got the news, I burst into tears, thinking, “This can’t be happening.”  My first question to my doctor was, “Am I going to die?”  She said, “Of course not,” and told me that mucinous carcinoma (aka colloid carcinoma) has an excellent prognosis from the start with a 90% survival rate. It’s also much slower growing and less aggressive than the typical invasive ductal carcinoma.  I read as much about my cancer as I could online, and I learned which sites to trust (Mayo, Johns Hopkins, BreastCancer.org) and which not to trust.  Few research studies involved women of my age, which was very frustrating, but I went to meet my surgeon armed with as much information as I could get.

I talked to Dr. O just before that holiday weekend and scheduled surgery for three days after Christmas (just as my boyfriend proposed to me, mixing some good news with the bad).  I underwent lumpectomy then re-excision several weeks after to clear one margin that still showed cancer cells–no cancer had spread to my lymph nodes.  My path report looked really good, so I didn’t do chemo; but I did undergo six and a half weeks of radiation, all while working on two book deadlines and planning my wedding.  My mother drove me to rad therapy three days a week and my mom-in-law took me twice a week.  “So you’ll never be alone,” they said, which I thought was very sweet.

I’d been told radiation would make me exhausted, but I wasn’t any more tired going through that treatment than recovering from my two surgeries.  I even tried to get on the treadmill a couple times a week, walking more slowly than usual; but I do think that helped my mood and my sense of having some control over my physical well-being, while so much else felt so out of control.  My fourth series mystery, NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEB, was released while going through radiation, and I kept as many book signings scheduled as I could…though I did cancel out of town gigs.  Flying while my chest was red and sensitive and with a 10-pound limit on what I could lift with my left arm just didn’t appeal to me.  I gave talks at local bookstores and libraries in camisoles and zip-up hoodies, speaking openly about my cancer whenever possible.

Whenever I felt down, I threw little pity parties.  Fortunately, they never lasted long.  My husband, my mother, my mom-in-law, and friends held my hands and propped me up.  Thank God for them, because they made me laugh even when I felt the least like laughing.

In July of 2007, four months post-radiation, my docs cleared me to start working out with a personal trainer to regain my strength.  No one had told me how weak my left arm would be with just four sentinel nodes removed!  So I shaped up my body, lived my life as if I felt normal (even when I didn’t), wrote more books, made my deadlines, got married on February 24, 2008, and have had clear exams, ultrasounds, and mammograms ever since.

It’s been almost two years since my diagnosis, and I honestly feel better than ever.  Not that the boobal area still isn’t sensitive–because it is–but I’m much stronger emotionally and physically than I was before.  One thing going through cancer treatment does for you:  it makes you realize how tough you can be when you have to be.

I do have an MRI scheduled for this Thursday to check on a 3 mm area of “dense glandular tissue” that the radiologist couldn’t see through on my first-ever digital mammogram two weeks ago.  My surgeon assures me it’s the area of scar tissue and I want to believe her, but I won’t breathe easily again until I come through that screening with flying colors.

In the meantime, I continue to enjoy being a newlywed (did I mention that my husband rocks?), promoting THE DEBS (the YA novel I wrote during radiation), and working on deadlines (three coming up within the next 12 months–ack!).

My advice for other women:  everyone is different, every body is unique.  Sometimes it seems like the medical community tries to treat us all like we’re the same person.  Being well-informed and proactive is the only way to stay in charge of your health.  And listen to that inner voice!  What a huge mistake I would’ve made if I hadn’t listened to mine.

Susan McBride is the author of THE DEBS young adult series for Random House and The Debutante Dropout Mysteries for HarperCollins. To learn more about Susan or her books, check out her website.