Part One – The Journey
Breast Cancer? Surgeries? Chemotherapy? I would have been better prepared for an assault on Mount Everest on two days’ notice…it’s a mountain, it’s high, and it’s cold. I had yet to meet my personal sherpa guides – those who would show me the way up this hill. Everything, everything I knew practically nothing about was starting next week. I found myself searching for elusive answers with no time to fully address the situation.
I was surrounded by love and support, knowledge and education, and a fierce competitiveness to win this battle – and yet I felt alone.
There would be times when I preferred to be left alone. There would be times to share and times to grab onto that which gave me comfort. There would be times I never fully understood until treatment was complete.
This is why I wrote this book: to relate the story of my journey, to share, to comfort, and help you feel less alone.
Chapter 1 – It’s What?
Friday, May 5, 2006 – Cinco de Mayo. Most of my friends would be out celebrating this evening. My thoughts and hopes were that I, too, would have something to celebrate. I tried to keep my mind on other things, but found myself watching the clock, hour by hour. The surgeon said to call for results at three p.m. Finally, the time came. I made the call. My surgeon, Dr. Vara, came to the phone (a bad sign) and said, “Well Alice, I’m in shock…they did find breast cancer.” These were the words that I had prayed not to hear. My heart stopped and my whole world came to a stand still. I was moving in slow motion, and what I was hearing sounded like a distorted voice talking in deep, nearly inaudible, tones. I couldn’t hear! It sounded like he said I had breast cancer… BREAST CANCER. I had been standing in my kitchen but now my backdrop went blank. “You found a tiny spot? What? Am I going to die…? I’m only thirty-eight years old.” I was in shock. Dr. Vara said to come on in and we would talk about my options. “Oh my God, I have to have options.”
I have to call Richard….
My fingers won’t work. Please answer ... please answer.
“Purchasing, this is Richard.”
“Honey… I have cancer,” I blurted out.
“What?”
I told my husband the doctor wanted us to come to his office that afternoon and talk with him about our options. Richard barely got out an “I’m coming, I love you,” when the phone went dead and I realized he was on his way. Our girls were due to arrive home from school any minute. I couldn’t let them see me like this. I was a blubbering mess! I needed to talk to my parents. My folks live four miles up the road, and they could get the girls off the bus and be with them. I took a deep breath and dialed their number. My mom answered the phone and I literally screamed, "Mom, I have breast cancer!”
"WHAT?" she shrieked.
"I have breast cancer. Mom, I don’t want to die! The doctor wants to see Richard and me this afternoon. Can you come over and get the kids off the bus?"
The troops were all on their way. I could feel my knees getting weaker and weaker until finally I found myself on the floor. I cried, “This can’t be happening! I’m supposed to be here to raise my children. What the hell is going on?”
A thousand things were running through my mind, yet it seemed to be empty. I felt paralyzed. What am I going to do? How am I going to…?
“Richard!” My husband darted through the door and scooped me into his arms. I buried my tear – soaked face into his chest and sobbed. He held me so tight that I didn’t ever want to let go. My husband, my rock…. I am sorry to burden you with this.
Mom and Dad walked in – despondent. Had they aged overnight? Their faces were drawn and without color, and their normally sparkling eyes were full of despair. Shock, I supposed. How were they going to manage getting the kids off the bus without them knowing anything? We couldn’t speak. It was too much. Richard and I left.
***
The doctor informed us that the tumor was seven millimeters. He kept using the word “tiny” to describe what I realized to be a large issue in my world. He stated that one of my options included a lumpectomy with radiation. I didn’t even hear all that he had to say. Mostly, what I remember is Dr. Vara repeating that this cancer had been caught very early and that the spot was very small. However, cancer is CANCER!
I have never been worried about my own mortality. I am Catholic and have always believed that my afterlife would be a peaceful one. However, there are two very big reasons why I had to survive – and their names are Kaylee and Kelsey, our daughters. My biggest fear was leaving them without a mother. Richard and I had always lived our lives with our girls at the forefront. I loved being a mommy and adjusted my work schedule so that being with them was the priority. The girls, at ages nine and eleven, were just at the age where their personalities were beginning to shine. I had to be there, I could not leave them. Even though the words echoed through my mind, I could not let them pass through my lips. Death was not an option.
I wanted to live, and I wanted to live for a very long time. I knew I would do whatever it took to achieve this objective.
I told Dr. Vara, during this first visit, that I wanted to have a bilateral mastectomy. In my mind, no breast tissue meant no breast cancer. No breasts, no cancer. That simple! I told him I wanted all my lymph nodes removed under my arm on the side of the cancer, and that I also wanted implants on both sides. He told me to take the weekend to think about it and then let him know my decision on Monday.
I replied that I did not have to think about it because in my mind and in my heart I knew what I needed to do. My immediate need, however, was to have the surgery as soon as possible. Richard asked if we could have surgery the next day, but Dr. Vara said he required a little more time to contact the plastic surgeon. He also said that he wanted me to have a bone scan and a CAT scan before the surgery. My mind was racing, Oh, Dear God, I thought, Is he looking for metastasis? Has the cancer spread to somewhere else in my body?
“Why do you want these things done?" I asked.
"Oh, just for a baseline...you need something to compare it to down the road,” he responded. Down the road. Down the road? I can’t even think of “down the road!”
Okay. First things first. I told him that I couldn't move forward without the surgery, and that I didn't want to have to wait on the scans to have surgery. He gave me an option – I could get the other tests completed after surgery. Richard and I left the office in shock. We had been together for fifteen years – dreaming, scheming, and planning our lives together. Now, the past two hours had changed the entire course of our lives – forever.
When we got home from the surgeon's office, I knew that we had to tell our girls what was happening. Kaylee was just completing the fifth grade. She had already been through a big year. We had moved the previous summer, and she’d had to change schools. She went from a small Catholic school, with one class per grade, to a brand new public school with three classes per grade. She was a bit on the shy side and had not wanted to leave the comfort of her very small circle of friends. Kaylee had spent the past school year adjusting to a new academic and social setting and was finally starting to find her niche of friends and hobbies. She’s always been one to internalize her feelings and tries to be brave in most situations.
Kelsey was finishing third grade. Although reluctant to change schools, she quickly adjusted to her new surroundings and was comfortable after about two weeks. She has a big heart, wears it on her sleeve, and is always the one to show her emotions.
Our family is extremely close and I knew it wasn’t going to be easy for them. But, I also knew that this experience was going to be as bad for them as I made it. I was the barometer by which they were going to gauge themselves. I had to lead them on this horrendous journey with a positive note, a positive attitude. With my eyes nearly swollen shut from crying, we gathered in the kitchen. There sat my audience: Richard, Kaylee, Kelsey, and my mom and dad who were there to support us through whatever might happen. I told them that my doctor had found a small “piece” of cancer in my breast, and, because it has been caught so early, I would be able to have surgery to get rid of the cancer. I told them that I was crying because it was a shock to me, but I was happy that God had allowed this cancer to be detected so early because that meant I would be cured. I told them that I was sad that I had to go through this, but I felt grateful that it had been found early. I told them that the cancer was so small that the doctor offered to just cut out the cancer part (a lumpectomy) but that I was choosing to have all my breast tissue removed and have implants put in so that I wouldn't have to deal with it ever again. I told them that I was also sad that they had to go through this ordeal with me but that I was depending on them to help me. And that together, we would all help each other through. They cried, but I knew they were going to be OK.
Mom and Dad left shortly after my announcement. I learned later that they had a major breakdown that evening when the full impact of my diagnosis hit them.
I called my brothers that evening to give them the news and to ask for their prayers. My brother Tom asked what he could do to help. I told him to come down from Michigan to be with my parents because they were taking this hard. My family has always been very close. I grew up in northeastern Ohio in a very close-knit Italian-Polish family. After high school, I moved to central Ohio to attend college and have been in the Columbus area ever since. Because my brothers each live in a different state, it made perfect sense to me that my folks moved closer to me, so that I can take care of them as they grow old. After years of persuasion, my parents agreed, about six years ago, to leave the comfort and famiarity of their life in Youngstown. Mom and Dad finally sold the family home and moved here to be close to me. Who knew that the tables would turn and I would have to lean on them so much?
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