Joan Garrett, Breast Cancer Survivor

One phone with a sympathetic voice on the other end, can change your life, your perspective, your goals.  Four years ago in the Fall, the face of my Mammography Technologist told an unspoken story.  I continued my work until that phone call a day later.  As I stood in a childcare break room, I was given the news that I needed to return for a biopsy.  This biopsy assured me of an early stage two Breast Cancer diagnosis. 

The first time you are delivered this news, massive fear of the unknown takes-over you.  I reacted with the mindset of “all business.”  I personally delivered the news to all my loves, one at a time.  I proceeded to endure a host of tests and meetings with the surgeon.  In the wait time, my family surrounded me with their presence.   

A lumpectomy was completed.  Healing was started, until it wasn’t.  I returned eleven days later for a second surgery to address Cancer that was still found in the pathology study.  Due to the removal of lymph nodes and the nerve damage that resulted from the combined surgeries, I faced six months of Physical Therapy to retain the use of my right arm.  During this time, I traveled to ORHC for twenty Radiation treatments. 

After a year of healing and therapy, I found myself seeking different employment.  Great blessings came my way with an Agency that accepted me at my age and with my health history.  I was determined to prove my worth and regained a fast-paced, joy-filled- job. 

Fast-forward three and a half years.  One month before my annual mammogram was due, I located a large lump in my opposite breast during a self-exam in the shower.  My heart dropped.  It wasn’t there a month earlier.  This time, I knew the drill.  But my heart knew this was different.  This was not a lump.  I could feel the length and shape of the tumor.   

A call was made and rushed appointments ensued.  This Cancer was in the form of the most aggressive and treatment-resistant version of Triple Negative Cancer.  My instincts were correct.  This would be a battle that would call-up all of my endurance, fortitude, and faith.  Informing your family a second time is an entirely different beast.  As much as we hate to admit it, it feels as though deep inside, we all await the fearful return of Cancer.  

It was determined that the immediate need was to start chemotherapy, as opposed to surgery to remove the tumor.  It was too large, and the need was for the drugs to start an immediate attack to stop the spread of Cancer to any other part of my body. 

Chemotherapy was started once a week for twelve weeks.  These drugs caused bloody noses, mouth sores, weight loss, fatigue, and quick hair loss.  The gift in this was a wig specialist who assisted my five grandchildren in shaving my head.  It was a family-affair.  

Twelve more weeks followed with different chemo drugs.  Despite the religious use of ice pack mittens and booties, I was left with neuropathy in my hands and feet.  These drugs and the length of time I was involved in the use of the toxic drugs and their devastation, my hemoglobin and other blood counts dropped to the point that I needed the assistance of a blood transfusion to be healthy enough to continue chemo.  After chemo was complete, it took months to have balance and enough strength to plant my beloved flowers in the Spring. 

The easy decision was made to have a double mastectomy.  It was time to take aggressive actions to deter the aggressive Cancer.  After a short period of healing, I started sixteen sessions of Radiation in The Cancer Center at ORHC.  It was a return to what was familiar, but better. 

This team of three professionals was a true gift.  I shared many personal stories with them.  They made me feel safe to do so.  They addressed my need for a level of privacy with my newly scarred body.  They even became aware of my taste in music and greeted me daily with 80’s Rock!  I was always addressed with a question of follow-up about something I had shared the previous day.  This team was the trifecta of professional, personal, and knowledgeable.  Hugs were shared and I will be revisiting the team.  My Oncologist and nurse team provided kind and deeply interested care.  They remembered my case from four years ago!  When the Dr. addressed me with a question about if or not I was still working during treatment, the nurse instantly replied, “Well she did the first time!” 

My future now is to start six months of oral chemotherapy.  I remind myself that strength does not come from physical capacity.  It comes from indomitable will.  Cancer has proven that I can be changed by what happens to me, but I refuse to be reduced by it.  Be it toughness of spirit, fortitude, or resilience, I will continue to bring courage to this battle.  There are many things more important to me than fear.