Race for the Cure!

Who gets breast cancer at age 29? That's what I thought when I found a small lump in my right breast. My life was full. I was busy with a 3-year-old little girl and a 2-year-old little boy, and we were starting to think about baby number three. I was busy with marriage, with my one-day-a-week job as a nurse, and with church responsibilities. I was worried about what preschool I should send Jensyn to and if Payton would ever be potty trained. But I wasn't worried about cancer. I was even less concerned after my gynecologist told me the lump was nothing to worry about at my age. "Nothing to worry about" turned into an ultrasound of the lump. The ultrasound turned into a biopsy, and on October 25, 2008, the biopsy turned into a breast-cancer diagnosis. The next few days were excruciating. How far advanced was the cancer? Would I have to have chemo? Radiation? The unknown future was horrifying, and although I believe in life after death and that I will be with my family forever, the thought of a temporary separation from my kids, husband, and family broke my heart. In those first few hours, I did not want my children to be out of my sight, but being close to them was agonizing because it made me wonder what the future held for all of us. This was not affecting just me; I knew it would change all of our lives. In those first few days, I prayed and prayed that someone would tell me that amazing progress had been made with breast cancer treatments and that I could beat this. At my first doctor's appointment, my surgeon told me those exact things--that we had come a long way with breast cancer treatment and that I could fight this; I could do it. Next came surgery, a double mastectomy, and then the final diagnosis of Stage 2 estrogen, progesterone, and Her2Nu-positive breast cancer. In other words, I had an aggressive form of cancer that would require 4 months of chemo (eight doses, each two weeks apart), plus radiation and a full year of of antibody therapy with a drug called Herceptin. With my family, friends, doctors, and neighbors on my side, I braced myself for the pain, the surgeries, the fear, the nausea, and the fatigue. It was the most difficult thing I've ever gone through.Eighteen months later, with chemo, radiation, and Herceptin finally checked off my list—and (cross your fingers) one or two minor reconstructive surgeries to complete—my life is getting back to being busy, full, and blessedly normal. Breast cancer has forever changed my life, surprisingly for the better in many ways. Still, I would not want anyone else to have to go through what I did. And that's why I am running in the Race for the Cure. (Okay, okay, I will probably walk, but give me a break, I just had cancer!) One thing I was amazed to learn through all of this is that just 6 years prior to my diagnosis, Herceptin was not part of standard treatment. And before Herceptin, my specific type of breast cancer had a worse outcome than other forms. So in case you're wondering if the research really makes a difference, I'm proof that it does. If you are interested in donating, so your dollars can help make further advances in breast-cancer treatment to help other women just like me, please go to www.komenslc.org/participant/becky.