Breast Cancer Awareness: Behind the Pink Ribbons, A Personal Survival Story

Editor’s note: During the month of October we will be sharing personal, inspirational stories of women who are fighting, or who have battled breast cancer in an effort to raise awareness during Breast Cancer Awareness month. To submit your story please email wendy.mitchell@patch.com.

Written By Wendy Ann Mitchell, Patch Editor

October is breast cancer awareness month. Before my cancer diagnosis I saw the sea of pink tee shirts, the little pink ribbons and seemingly endless Pink-A-Thon fundraisers as something ”those people” did. Cancer didn’t affect me-- until it did.

I was living my life like most middle class 40-somethings raising three kids in Suburbia. Life was a maze of busy days playing the role of Mom’s Taxi, Dance Mom, Field Hockey Mom, Working Mom. Then out of nowhere, BOOM! Life threw me the biggest curve ball I’d ever experienced.

Those Dreaded Three Words

On Feb. 4, World Cancer Day, I heard the three words nobody ever wants to hear; “You have cancer.” Since then my world has been turned upside down and inside out.

This is what it feels like to get the news: It feels like you got stabbed with a knife to the heart. For a few seconds, you can’t breathe because you’re in a state of shock. You feel like you’re choking. Life comes to a screeching halt. The doctor’s words echo in your mind before settling down into your brain and back down to reality, “You have cancer.”

After you hang up the phone you hear yourself say it slowly out loud for the first time as you tell your husband, “I have cancer.” Nobody in my family has this so how could I have it? It is so surreal. So many thoughts were swirling through my brain. Wait, is it in my brain? How will they know?

You tell yourself: I am strong. I WILL beat this. And then you fight like hell.

When Mammograms Aren’t Enough

I never remembered to do monthly self breast exams because I’d gone for my mammogram every year for the last five since I turned 40. I thought I was low risk; no history in my family, not a smoker, get checked every year. But that didn’t matter.

I found the lump while dying my fiery red hair. I dropped a glob of Manic Panic Vampire Red hair dye on my left breast. When I wiped it off I felt “it.”

The next morning, I called my doctor who brought me into the office right away. I was hoping he was going to say “it’s nothing,” or “it’s just a cyst.” I thought wrong. I was going to need a biopsy.

“It’s a good thing you came in when you did. Your last mammogram just ten months ago looked clear,” the doctor said. I tried to let the words sink in before he continued, “This grew really fast.”

The Surgery

On Feb. 17 I had a lumpectomy to remove the tumor. I thought I’d only have to do the surgery and radiation but after the pathology results came back my doctor told me I had a “rare and aggressive type of cancer only one percent of women are diagnosed with called Metaplastic Carcinoma. I’m also Triple Negative which only occurs in 15 percent of women. Both types have a higher recurrence rate than other cancers and require very aggressive treatment and careful follow-up.

Before my surgery came another slap in the face I was forced to deal with. The doctor asked in a matter-of-fact voice, “Do you have an advanced directive?” “A what?” I retorted. “An advanced directive. A living will.” GULP. “You may want to think about it before your surgery.” More thoughts; I could die. What if I do die? What if I don’t wake up from surgery? Who will help my husband take care of the kids? I don’t want them to grow up without a mom. Is this really happening?

Once healed from surgery, I began 16 long, hard weeks of chemotherapy.

The “Red Devil”

They call ACT chemo “The Red Devil” because it is red in color and highly toxic. The nurse who administers the drug comes in the room in what looks like a hazmat suit; a mask, gloves, goggles, blue scrubs, a paper gown over the scrubs. Two nurses have to double check to make sure they’re giving the right drugs. They gave me four huge syringes of the red medicine through my port. When it goes through the system it turns the urine red. It’s scary stuff. But it kills cancer.

I received four doses of this Adriamycin and Cytoxin over the course of eight weeks. This is called “dense dose” chemo; the biggest, baddest, strongest kind out there to kill the most evil of cancers. I was nauseous, dizzy, exhausted all the time. You feel like you have the flu, and then got hit by a Mack truck, all at the same time for about four months straight.

Then came the Taxol. This made my bones hurt so bad I wanted to cry. It caused neuropathy in my fingers and toes that still lingers slightly. Each chemo also came with a finger prick for blood work, a weekly doctor visit, a Neulasta shot to boost white blood cell counts and the usual weight, blood pressure checks that go along with a regular doctor visit.

Seeing Red

As you can see from the photo attached to this article, my chest is now red, painful and bumpy from 21 doses of radiation so far. It’s framed with some lovely purple marks from a Sharpie so the radiation techs can be sure to treat the breast and not any vital organs.

Why am I telling you all of this? To let you know what a cancer patient goes through. To raise awareness so that if you see someone at the bank you don’t say loudly and sarcastically (like my bank teller did), “Uuuum, I think you’ve got a little bit of pen all over your chest.” The whole bank stopped to look. Then I responded, “Uuum, no. It’s marks for radiation and it was a little too hot for a turtleneck, soooo....”

I tell my story so that if you see someone in line at the grocery store who is wearing fake eyelashes you don’t loudly proclaim, “Oh! You’re wearing fake eyelashes, How fun!” Everyone turns to look and you restrain from saying what you’re thinking:

Yes. How fun it is to go through three surgeries, 16 weeks of intense chemo, six weeks of radiation,two emergency room visits, lose all of your hair, eyebrows and eyelashes. Yes. How fun it is to tell your husband and three children that you have a life threatening illness that, even after all the treatment is completed, has the potential to come back and spread to your skin, bones and lungs. How fun.

I share this to raise awareness for early detection so others have a fighting chance. And also so that you can support people like me and many others who can’t afford the cost associated with all of the treatments, surgeries, second opinions and other related expenses. So that we can pay it forward and live to tell our stories. So that we can help others, not only in Pinktober, but year-round.

The After Shock

Thankfully I caught the cancer when it was only Stage 1 and it didn’t spread to the lymph nodes. I lost my eyebrows, eyelashes and fiery red hair but not my fighting spirit.

It’s been nine long months of fighting the evil beast, taking many deep breaths through the pain, having sleepless nights, surgeries, nausea, chemo drugs, dizziness, worry, hot flashes brought on by early menopause due to chemo, crazy emotions and pure exhaustion.

Cancer touches everyone and I won’t be quiet until I feel my work of raising awareness is done.

Listen Up

Here is my message: Sometimes yearly mammograms are not enough. You have to feel your boobs on a regular basis. If I didn’t find the lump myself while dying my red hair, that’s no longer there (how ironic), I might not be here to tell this tale. I consider myself blessed and feel it’s my duty to spread awareness for early detection.

While I will be “officially” finished with treatment on Oct. 15, I won’t truly be “done” because the dark shadow called “recurrence” will try to follow me due to the rarity and aggressiveness of this type of cancer.

Since Metaplastic Carcinoma was only recently discovered in 2000, not much has been done in the way of clinical trials and research. Being Triple Negative means I lack estrogen, progesterone and Her 2 receptors so I can’t take any follow-up meds for “insurance.”

My Radiation Oncology doctor told me I have a different type of insurance- the long, harsh and fierce treatment that I’ve endured. This will kill any last trace cell that may try to mutate and change to lung, skin or bone cancer. The meaning of Metaplastic is “change in form.”

And my Oncologist, who has worked with thousands of patients over the last 30 years told me, “You caught it early and it didn’t spread. You’re going to be fine!” I have to believe him.

My hope is that I can be healthy and strong so that soon I can be in the position to help others.

Paying It Forward

As soon as I found the lump I knew the diagnosis had to be about something much more than just me. I began a #MyLeftBoob selfie awareness campaign to remind people to do monthly self breast exams. It saved my life and it could save yours too.

I also had the pleasure of being included in The Boob Project video. You can see me at 0:40. The song was written by eight-year-old Archer Nelson from California whose mom is battling the disease. The song was produced by DJ Irish Greg with KFOG Radio San Francisco and features members of The Grateful Dead, Florence Welch, Hozier, Graham Nash and many more. So far the song has raised over $10,000 for breast cancer research. And most of all it reminds us of something very important:

“Never forget the good things in life, like candy, life, eating, having fun, because in the end all that matters is you.”

Photo: Wendy Ann Mitchell