HI! My name is Jenn Mykland. I am 39 years old. I am a wife, a blissful mom to 11 year old twin boys, an auntie to 4, a hard working employee at MultiCare, an enthusiastic snow skier, an avid reader, when I have time, of course. Last year I also became a cancer survivor. This was never a description I had thought or hoped or wanted to ever use to describe me.
By the end of last year, I discovered that while the journey was quite painful at times, it was one I would come to appreciate. Yes, I actually said appreciate. Let me first tell you about my journey.
At the end of March last year, I found a rash on my breast. I tried several different creams and lotions but nothing would make it go away. I decided to go see a doctor. Since mine was on vacation, I saw one of her associates. This physician’s reaction was one of concern when I shared my suspicions of inflammatory breast cancer. However, she left the room for about 15 minutes and when she returned she was quite dismissive of my symptoms. Condescendingly, I was told, Inflammatory Breast Cancer is extremely rare. It was highly unlikely. I kept pushing to get her diagnosis, but she had nothing else to offer but to wait a few more weeks and see if it would go away. Another doctor, more experienced with Inflammatory Breast Cancer, then examined me and I was again told that there was no way this was Inflammatory Breast Cancer. He had seen it many times before and this wasn’t it. Again, hoping for a different diagnosis, I asked for his explanation of my symptoms. He offered nothing. Ultimately, at my insistence, we agreed on some diagnostic tests to rule out breast cancer. I left the office feeling like a hypochondriac.
The initial tests quickly expanded to more tests. An ultrasound lasted only a minute with the tech leaving the room to retrieve the doctor. This didn’t seem like a good sign. Ultimately, a biopsy was performed.
On April 5th, I received a call to come back to my doctor’s office. Being the strong independent woman that I am, I decided to go alone and without telling anyone. As soon as I arrived, I was taken back to the patient room. While I tried to continue my denial, it became more difficult as the nurse seemed to be near tears and even apologized as she walked out of the room.
As the doctor shared my diagnosis with me, I fell into a hazy state. I was told that I had an extremely aggressive form of cancer. I was told that I would be seeing an oncologist the next day and a surgeon that afternoon. As I sat in the patient room, I could hear the nurse making an appointment for a port placement. I was surprised when she gave my name for that appointment. And as all this is going on, what am I doing? Examining my work schedule on my phone, trying to figure out how to move my meetings around these new appointments. The doctor said to me, “none of that matters. Work will have to wait. You need to focus on fighting for your life.”
The next day during the port placement, I cried during the entire procedure. I had a boss many years before with a port during his cancer treatments. I think I realized that getting this port meant I really did have cancer too. As I was lying there, I also thought about my grandmother who had been treated for breast cancer many years before. She had always said if she got cancer again, she would not take the treatment, she would rather die. I considered, would I rather die than take treatment? I thought on this for a while. Then I realized, I have two amazing kids and a husband and family that need me. I will fight this and I will beat it.
I have spent nearly 25 years in healthcare. I have rarely seen the wheels move as they did for me. My oncologist seemed like a miracle scheduler, moving me through an ongoing list of diagnostic tests over the next 4 days. I began chemo 7 days after my diagnosis. I hardly had a moment to breath, let alone sleep or consider any of this very thoroughly.
I scheduled family pictures….something I had put off for years waiting to achieve all kinds of perfection. I filed for FMLA, tried to transition some of my work projects to others, and every day endured having to tell someone else about this diagnosis.
One of the most difficult moments during my journey was losing my hair. I know, it’s just hair. But, for many it is so much more than that. Losing my hair forced me to admit I was sick. With my hair, no one knew about my cancer, or maybe they knew, but we could act like all was normal. On the day my hair started to really fall out, I went shopping at Costco. On the way home, I drove down Meridian with the top of my convertible down letting the wind take my hair. It was so freeing. The next day I cut my hair off. My best friend joined me and we made it an adventure. We tried out all kinds of styles – flock of seagulls, 90’s waver, and finally military crew cut.
I was asked to talk about what inspired me. There are so many things. My husband and kids were inspiring. They were strong for me and they helped out with all the things I couldn’t do. My parents were there for me in so many ways. My coworkers and friends were so generous with their time and support.
The inspiration was hearing the success stories of others:
My great grandmother, who had breast cancer and a mastectomy many years before was inspiring. She was a very strong and fun person. I remember watching her put underwear in her bra to fill the empty cup. Thankfully, we have come a long way from this and women have options that she never had.
A coworker who is a 25 year survivor of Inflammatory Breast Cancer was inspirational to me. She shared so much of her journey and lessons learned with me. I am thankful that her participation in research 25 years ago was likely a vital factor in the treatment that I received.
Another coworker who is a 15 year survivor of breast cancer shared her journey with me. Her ability to openly share and provide support to me made a difference. She shared her reconstruction story with me and made all the difference in helping me determine my path.
A coworker who became my cancer mentor. A three year survivor of breast cancer and someone who I had seen go through her journey from a distance. She became a huge cheerleader for me and an unexpected friend. She knew what I needed better than I did.
The inspiration also came from those still in their journey. It was also in the friendships I found while getting chemo or radiation therapy. The single mom, recently diagnosed and heading into the cancer battle. The mom who battled breast cancer and finished her journey, only to restart a new battle with lung cancer. The mom with the breast cancer gene who made the difficult decision to remove her breasts in hopes cancer would not take her like it had taken her mother. The inspiration comes from learning that the men and women who fight cancer are tough. The strength we gain from taking this journey is demonstrated by the pride we take in sharing our story with others and showing our battle scars to others as they begin their journey.
In a short time I came to understand the significant impact cancer had on not only my life, but those of my family, friends, coworkers, and brief acquaintances who soon became my close friends.
I have said many times, it isn’t my intent to be exclusive to my friends and family, but cancer isn't a club I ever hope they will have to join. However, if they do, they will discover what I have. It is an amazing network of support, filled with far too many people.
So, I said at the beginning I would tell you why I appreciated this journey.
The blessing and appreciation I found from this journey was in the support and love I received from those around me. People I hardly knew took an interest in helping me or my family. The help came in many ways. I am in awe of those who can examine a situation like this and find meaningful ways to offer support. And there were so many who did offer us support through kind words, transporting our kids, driving me to doctors appointments, bringing us meals, and offering their stories.
The biggest blessing, though, was how it changed my perspective. Over the last couple years, work had been taking more and more of my life. I was working 10-12 hour days and then coming home and working into the evening. I would sit on the couch with my laptop working on emails as the kids would watch tv. Somehow I convinced myself that this counted as family time. My weekends would be consumed with doing all the household work I didn’t finish during the week and then, of course, going into work if that was needed as well. My staff would need me and I was overscheduled and unavailable.
After my diagnosis and through my journey, I learned that there are many others who can and are willing to help with my work. I learned that an 8-9 hour work day is enough. I learned that having dinner with my family and listening to them and spending time with them is more important. I learned that when my staff asks for me, they are more important than meetings or emails.
I learned that rushing through life in such a hurry wasn’t the same as living life. I share this quote from Maya Angelou as good advice for all of us.
“We spend precious hours fearing the inevitable. It would be wise to use that time adoring our families, cherishing our friends and living our lives.”
Relay For Life of Sumner is an annual event and fundraiser for the American Cancer Society, the official sponsor of birthdays. The 2013 event will be held at Sunset Chev Stadium on July 26-27. Please join us as we celebrate those who have battled cancer, remember loved ones lost and empower individuals to fight back against the disease. For more information about how to participate visit www.relayforlifeofsumner.org.