Chapter 1

November 19, 2014

Another mammogram and this time a sonogram.  The technician indicated that the spot they were concerned with did not look right.  Its shape had a distinct curve and it shouldn’t.  The lymph node was also enlarged.  

  Laura knew in her heart she had breast cancer.

She knew… because thirty-two years ago there was a young 20-year-old woman diagnosed with Stage 3 Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.  Inside this young woman’s chest wall was a tumor the size of a grapefruit.  This mass was also misshapen.  The image showing sprouts growing out towards her heart.  This young woman was Laura.  A newlywed married only one month. 

At 20 years old, you know nothing about life.  You know nothing about cancer.   As newlyweds, young couples start to plan their life together. They talk about the dreams they want to come true. 

  Instead, they are preparing for a major surgery.  Hoping and praying the doctors can remove it all.

They weren’t able to.

There were no home cooked meals; there was no setting up house.

Married life began with biopsies, blood work, six rounds of chemotherapy and twenty sessions of radiation.  Marriage began with the word… cancer.

  Thirty-two years later…

That image that was seen on that sonogram machine, felt like it did in the mind and heart of a scared 20-year-old girl.

  Within a week a biopsy was ordered and taken. The results were in.

The same Doctor that treated Laura as a young woman with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma informed her- ‘Yes Laura, you have breast cancer’.

  After many appointments and consultations, the treatment plan was given.  Chemotherapy followed by a Mastectomy.  Radiation was not an option.

Since radiation was administered to the chest area when she was young, it cannot be given again without serious damage and complications.  So hard chemo it is.

  Laura’s Doctor looked her in the eyes and said:

“We have been through this before; we will get through it again.”

  Before anyone could take a breath, scans and tests were ordered.

The quiet life that had led up to now was replaced with appointments and urgency.

  Things were starting to get scary.   I looked at my friend; I could see in her eyes the presence of fear.  That bothered me.

One morning before work, I shared with her a story.  A story about a secret I had that no one knew about.  I told her when I was around 12 years old; my mom gave me a necklace.  This necklace has a special meaning to me.  It holds a special place in my heart.  I held out my hand to show her. I cautiously unfolded my fingers to expose a silver chain with three charms on it.  A cross, an anchor and a heart, symbols representing Faith, Hope and Love.  I shared the story of being a little girl who would sometimes get scared.  I told her how I would put it in my hand and hold onto it. Somehow it would always make me feel better.  Feel safe.  I said ‘I carry this necklace with me wherever I go.   When I get scared, I put this necklace in my pocket. So, I could hold onto it, if I needed to.  I handed Laura a small box, hoping she wouldn’t think my secret was something silly or foolish.  Inside that box was a cross necklace, inscribed with the words Faith, Hope & Love.  I told her if you get scared, just hang onto it.  Maybe it will help. 

Laura has worn that necklace around her neck every single day.  She asked me if I would keep mine in my pocket… for her.

I’m glad she didn’t think my story was silly.  I think she sensed how nervous I was to share.  But more than any of that, I think she knew where I was coming from. I think I gave her the okay to be scared. 

This cancer journey became based on these three words.  Maybe we couldn’t have made it without them.  They symbolized everything we needed…

Faith to believe in.  Hope for the future.  And Love to get us through.

 The results were in and telling the girls was hard.  But hey, when you have been thru cancer before, you convince yourself you have the confidence you can do it again.  Laura assured the girls she was okay and told them “I am strong.  I can do this.”  Hugs were given and tears were shed.  Both girls, young adults, had a new realization in life.  Mom was sick.

The one who always took care of us, now needs us to take care of her.  Life is not fair to have to grow up so fast.

Even though telling the girls was hard, the hardest conversation was yet to come-

   How do you tell your Mom and Dad?  How do you tell the people who have already been through the worst time of their lives, you have cancer again?  How do you tell them?  What do you say?  When you know they have cried for you, prayed for you, been scared for you and then celebrated for you.  Thinking cancer would never return.  How do you tell them?  What words are the right words to say?  Let alone, it was Dad’s 90^th birthday.  The family was getting together for a big birthday celebration.  Laura and her husband David chose to stay quiet.  The news could wait.  It was Dad’s special day.

  A few days later, Laura decided to break the news.  Laura’s daughters went along for moral support.  There were many tears and lots of whys.  And like any parent would say…
“I wish it was me.” 

Laura explained that she would be okay.  She didn’t want them to worry.  We as parents know that’s easy to say, but not so easy to do.  It doesn’t matter how old you get.  You are still their child; they are going to worry.  I know Laura doesn’t want that.  But I also know there is no way to stop it. 

  Treatment plans set, time to ask questions and time to get answers.  Doctor appointments started moving faster.  It seemed like there was something every single day.  Cat scan, Echocardiogram, getting a port put in for the chemo, and then meeting with the Doctor for the results.  The cancer diagnosis was classified as Triple Negative Breast Cancer.  Not the breast cancer you want to have.  It is known as the most aggressive and most difficult to treat.  This type has the highest chance of recurrence.  We were shocked!  Doctor R. had urgency in his voice.  “We have to get started as soon as possible, chemotherapy first and then surgery.”  All Laura could see was the seriousness in his face.  She didn’t’ know what to say.  Everything has been moving so fast.

  He scheduled the first chemo for this Friday, December 19^th.  Laura looked up at him and said “No!  40 people are coming this Saturday for Christmas.  I have food to cook and a house to clean.”  Doctor R. knew there was no changing her mind.  “Okay then, Monday. You have no choice.”

  So, three days before Christmas, Chemotherapy began.