My story begins two years ago. I am 54 years old. It is June. I have two great children from my first marriage. I am getting married in six weeks to a wonderful man. We just moved into our new home. Life is great. Tomorrow is my annual checkup -- I would love to reschedule this, too many things to do, but I think I'd better go, to get it out of the way.
I have known this doctor for many years. She is a great lady, and now she checks one breast over and over and over again. She takes my fingers and says, "Do you feel this?" Yes, I do -- a small but detectable hard nodule. My heart sinks, but I think -- can't be. I had a benign tumor removed from the other breast a few years back -- I am sure it is nothing. I am getting married in six weeks.
I have had annual mammograms for years, so I am very familiar with the process. The mammogram shows ... nothing. "You have extremely dense breast tissue." Now I am on the table for an ultrasound. The technician can't find anything, but the physician comes in and runs the probe himself over my breast again and again ... and I hear, "There ... I found it -- carcinoma." I don't think I heard right -- I am too young. This is nothing. It is just another benign tumor. I know it. He must be mistaken. It can't be. I am getting married in six weeks.
Two days later I am in the hospital for a biopsy. I know it is not cancer. Not me. I am too young. Yes, my mother had breast cancer, but she was in her 70s. Not me. Too young. Scared! Very scared.
And later in the week I meet with the surgeon. "It is cancer. We have to perform a lumpectomy and take some of your lymph nodes." I think: My world just collapsed. Now I am really scared. What if it has spread? I don't want to die. Life can't be over yet. I am angry and sad and scared and scared ... scared.
The surgery is over. My fiance and I wait for the surgeon to give us the results. Anxious, afraid to hear. My head spins. "The good news is, it has NOT spread." I cry, relief. It is over. "The bad news is, the type of cancer you had is hormone receptor negative. You will have to undergo not only radiation but also chemotherapy." That sounds like a death sentence to me. Chemotherapy ... NO! I am getting married in five weeks ... this can't be. But it is.
Meetings and more meetings with doctors. Is there any other way? NO! But we could do radiation first -- six weeks and then start the chemotherapy. I can do that! I will be OK for the wedding, feel well and have hair. Radiation does not scare me. It is easy; I don't even get tired.
I feel good for the wedding, I am thankful for the kind, supportive and wonderful man who is my husband now. The unknown of chemotherapy frightens me, but I want to do everything I can to have a long life with this great man and hopefully see grandchildren one of these days.
A friend who has gone through chemo tells me, "You put your life on hold and get through it." And that's what it is. It is not good; I get sick, never feel good, lose my hair, but I get through it with all the love and support from family and friends. My husband, who travels a lot, never misses a chemo appointment. He is there to hold my hand and cheer me up. And now it is New Year's and it is over ... my last chemo was on Dec. 10. There is new fuzz on my head ... the new year will be good. Life is good again.
It has been two years now. There is still fear that the cancer will reoccur -- any ache anywhere and I panic. But I am getting better. I also do breast self-exams regularly. I could have found it myself, if I had just done the self-exams. I am thankful every day for being alive. Life is great again.
Elke Wolff is a 56-year-old accountant living in California.
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One in eight women will be diagnosed with breast cancer in her lifetime. The ThirdAge We Care Campaign tells how you can help save a life.
