Talkin with Teenie: guest blogger

Showing posts with label guest blogger. Show all posts

October 31, 2009

Breast Cancer and Hispanic Women

Guest post by Holly @ Cold Spaghetti

Tina asked for bloggers to participate as guest bloggers for October, on the theme of Breast Cancer Awareness, in honor of her Mother, a breast cancer survivor. Here is my cross-listed post.

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. It is also Hispanic Heritage Month.

And breast cancer is the leading cause of cancer death among Hispanic women.

The Hispanic population is the largest minority group in the United States. Hispanic Americans make up roughly 14 percent of the U.S. population, but they are the fastest growing segment, estimated to reach 20 percent or more by 2050.

Even when access to health care is adequate, for Hispanic women in the United States, breast cancer is more often diagnosed at a later stage, when the disease is more advanced. Further, approximately two-thirds of breast cancer found in Hispanic women is discovered by accident – not by screening or mammogram.

Actually, according to a Kaiser Permanente study, the news gets worse. When compared to non-Hispanic white women, Hispanic women are more likely to be diagnosed at a younger age, have cancer that has already spread beyond the breast, have tumors with cell type that have a poorer prognosis, have larger tumors, and have tumors that cannot be treated with some of the most effective medicines.

What’s the public health response? Interventions aimed at increased screening, access, and education. But is it enough?

If early detection and survival is the goal of Breast Cancer Awareness Month – then there has to be a conversation about an individual’s ability to access health care information and services. Central to that conversation is the reality that those very life-saving information and services are unjustly linked to one’s racial, ethnic, socio-economic, and immigration status.

How do these dynamics play out? Here is a local example. If a woman cannot demonstrate access to or eligibility for some type of insurance (or have the ability to pay) – programs can deny her a screening for breast cancer. Why? The argument is that it is unethical to provide a screening for a disease when the patient will not be able to access treatment for it. In the past year, one of the screening programs in New Orleans was shut down for this reason.

What is more unethical? Denying screening? Denying treatment? Or needing any of coverage or eligibilities in the first place?

The bottom line is that women in our largest ethnic minority group do not have a good outlook when it comes to breast cancer. And improving the outlook is about more than screening programs and access to medicines. Striking at the heart of a serious disease means a serious look at our entire system of care and asking where treatment for breast cancer and survival of women lie within our values.

Please don't forget to donate by clicking here for Keep a Breast or here for Susan G Komen.

Come back tomorrow for more great stories and giveaways. Let's end this month with a BANG!

Current Giveaways

****My sister is also offering a Breast Cancer related giveaway on her site. Check it out HERE.****

If you would like to take the Blogging for Boobs Breast Bash button to add to your site, here is the code;

October 30, 2009

Gina's Smile

Guest Post by Karen @ He Provides The Shoes: Walking With God Through Breast Cancer

I met a woman named Gina the other day. We have something in common: we both have breast cancer. A mutual friend of ours invited Gina and me to her house for lunch. After talking with her for only about five minutes, Gina's soft spirit and endearing demeanor birthed a miraculous connection between us that was so strong it felt as though we'd been friends since childhood.

But in addition to her lovely personality, the one thing I cannot stop thinking about is Gina's smile. Even though she shared with us that this was her fourth bout with breast cancer (incidentally, she jokingly stated that the doctors had, in her own words, "lost count, but we think it's the fourth time now!"), Gina continued to smile as she described her cancer journey. Initially diagnosed in 2005, Gina said that her cancer was the triple negative type.

What I marvel about was her ability to see beyond the immediate circumstances. Even though she was gearing up, both mentally and emotionally, for receiving her next round of chemo drugs, which would be administered the following day in Philadelphia, a nearly three-hour drive from home, Gina focused on the things in life that are pleasant. Simple things, like book clubs she belongs to, and her interest in jewelry making. It was her smile, coupled with the seemingly effortless way she made us feel like there's so much more to life than the ugliness of cancer, however, that remain embedded in my brain. Although she is honest about her feelings concerning cancer and its impact on her life including constant pain and tingling in her fingers and feet, she will not allow it to rob her of her happiness.

Women such as Gina amaze me. They encourage me. They bring new meaning to the proverbial phrase "raising the bar" when it's fortitude that's being measured. And they bring to the forefront the true meaning of life: to live each day, as best you can, with a smile.

Please don't forget to donate by clicking here for Keep a Breast or here for Susan G Komen.

Come back tomorrow for more great stories and giveaways. Let's end this month with a BANG!

Current Giveaways

****Kara @ Incredible Women has also gone pink this month. Please head over to her blog to check out the great stories and the PINK giveaway!****

****My sister is also offering a Breast Cancer related giveaway on her site. Check it out HERE.****

If you would like to take the Blogging for Boobs Breast Bash button to add to your site, here is the code;

October 29, 2009

The Unbearable Tenderness of Boys

Guest post by Hedgie @ Princess Hedgehog Chronicles

They sit, arms entangled, caps tipped on top of their unruly hair as another Saturday T-Ball game stretches out like summer before them. Their heads are pressed together, they confer in some mysterious language known only to them. Every now and then one will tip back his head and laugh, the clear sound sending ripples over the field. Now five years old, the boys have been friends for two years of preschool and carpools, birthday parties and playdates with older sisters bossing the activities. The smaller boy is more expressive with his affection and greets his friend with warm hugs, grins; he's never been refused.

Another day, another boy shares his time. They head to the bowling alley, happy to be just two boys and a mom, no big sisters hovering nearby to take over. The second boy is dark, the same age, and quiet. Only the edge of competition is visible between them and they skirt it with a smile, hefting over the ball or uttering "good one" now and then. There is no challenge between them yet, and parting is time to race and yell "let's go!"

Between bites of our staple of lunches out — chicken strips — he glances up and holds my gaze with his water blue eyes so like his grandfather's. "I love you, Mom." No preamble, no agenda. He seems a little surprised at himself, then admits, "I didn't know I was going to say that until I said it."

"That's the best kind of 'I love you', buddy," I tell him.

Most mornings he is in the bed, sprawled between his father and I, when we awake. Somehow, sometime during the night, he managed to place himself between the covers, not waking us and leaving undisturbed the arthritic cat who has been known to reward unexpected movement with slashes. "Time to cuddle, Mom," he whispers, snuggling his blonde head in my neck and wrapping gentle arms around my waist.

His sister is two years older. The two of them are tightly bound, almost like an old married couple, knowing how to needle each other to blows and cajole the other back to good humor. If he is offered a treat he has never failed to ask for an extra to take to his sister, and he does, proudly offering his bounty to her. This past year he drew a family portrait and the family member who was at center, and the most detailed in his novice art portrayal, was not his mom or dad or cat but his big sister.

We are in the ER, another weekend begun in fun and ending with curved steel threading closed the edges of skin. This time his forehead carries the evidence of exuberance denied. Run, run, thump, sob. The sound brought me from dinner ministrations to the opening of the living room, where he is staggering towards me, a hand to the gaping wound, blood cascading down his cheeks. A warm blanket of calm wraps itself around me and I begin to touch him. As he relates in a cracked voice how he stumbled and flew into the hard leg of the chair I'm shepherding him into the kitchen, directing his father to get a clean towel from the drawer to staunch the flow, wiping the red drips from his blonde hair and dark lashes before they reach his eyes. His sister stands in the doorway, sizing up the scene, leaves and returns with her coat and a statement: "I'm going."

We all go. We are turned away from Urgent Care when they see the wound. The hospital ER requires longer waits: triage, registration, nurse, doctor, cleaning, doctor. While he is being stitched I am leaning on the bed, holding his hands and gazing into his tearless eyes. He is searching mine, seeking reassurance so I cannot look away. I count the stitches (2 interior, 4 or 5 exterior) and pretend he is the toy bunny I have recently sewn up, but the thread is not green, like the color we chose together. I don't think I can ask the doctor for a bright color; black seems to be standard issue. I decide to wink, a skill he has recently mastered. He winks back, and I melt. My little one, his forehead splayed open, already attempting to bridge the gap between boyhood and manhood by reassuring his mother that he is ok.

It is late. I am on the sofa reading, an unheard of pleasure. I hear him before I see the tumbled curls atop his small, sturdy frame in the doorway. "Mom, I can't sleep."

I hold out my arm and he tumbles over the sofa back, wedging himself between the pillows and my side, his breath warm on my cheek. We share the quiet of the slumbering house together. In a husky voice that hints of the boy he may grow to be my son asks, "Mom, do you think you're gonna die from the cancer?"

Oh, Danny, how do I answer you? Because I honestly, at this moment, think that I am going to die from the cancer that found its way into my breast, the breast that you nursed from for two years. The breast that you made such a sour face at before switching to the other side, the favored side. Did the milk taste foul to you? Would I have discovered the tumor sooner had I abandoned the sweetness of nursing you after only a few months, or did those two years keep the cancer at bay?

"No, Danny, I don't think I'm going to die from cancer." His body relaxes into mine, a deep sigh escapes his chest. He believes me. His arm twines itself around my neck like the star jasmine I planted near the front door last spring, the sweet tendrils of his love reaching, reaching far into my heart until I too, believe me.

Please don't forget to donate by clicking here for Keep a Breast or here for Susan G Komen.

Current Giveaways

If you would like to take the Blogging for Boobs Breast Bash button to add to your site, here is the code;

October 28, 2009

Racing for the Cure

By Classroom Confessions @ http://classroomconfessions.wordpress.com

When I hear the words “Breast Cancer” I immediately think Race for the Cure.

Why you ask? Well, I have been lucky. I have been lucky enough to have never experienced breast cancer myself, nor known anyone close to me who has been affected.

And yet I want to help because millions of women and men are affected by this disease yearly. So
many others loose their mothers, grandmothers, sisters, aunts, and
daughters to this terrible disease. I want to do whatever I can to make
the number of those who have to suffer get smaller and smaller each day.

My
own experience with cancer came through another form. In 2007 I spent
weeks in the hospital with my college boyfriend watching his father
slowly die in a hospice of melanoma that had spread to his major
organs. I know that all types of cancer; melanoma, breast, lymphoma,
leukemia and others; are killing so many people in our world. Race for the Cure and events like it, allow us to make a difference so that others will not have to suffer or watch their loved ones suffer.

This Saturday, on October 17^th, I will be Racing for the Cure once again. In addition, on October 17^th, I will Light the Night in honor of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society (http://www.lightthenight.org).

I
race for the lost, the survivors; I race because I could one day be a
victim. I race because it could happen to me. It could happen to my
mother or sisters. I want a future where my daughters and granddaughters will one day have a chance to live without fear of dying from this disease. I race to help them celebrate all their birthdays- not to be cut short by a cancer within.

I hope you’ll join me this year in Racing for the Cure. It’s easy to participate (they even have a Sleep for the Cure option). To contribute or find a race in your area, visit http://www.komen.org.

Please don't forget to donate by clicking here for Keep a Breast or here for Susan G Komen.

Current Giveaways

If you would like to take the Blogging for Boobs Breast Bash button to add to your site, here is the code;

October 26, 2009

"You're so strong, I could never do that"

Guest Post by Kate @ After Cancer Now What

Variations - "You're so brave, I could never do that".

Said By - Neighbors, friends and colleagues.

Why I don't ever want to hear it again - I've heard this used in a couple of situations. It was uttered many times when I was having chemotherapy. I think it is something people say just so they have something to say to you nicer than "Dear God, You look like hell!"
The problem with it in this situation is that it implies choice. The alternative to "not doing that" in the case of cancer was to roll up in a ball and wait to die. Not exactly the plan I was working from .

The other time I have had people say this to me is if I am going to do something like go to a concert or a movie by myself. Thankfully my mother taught me manners and I do have some social skills, otherwise I'd slap these folks, mostly women, upside the head.

Please don't forget to donate by clicking here for Keep a Breast or here for Susan G Komen.

Current Giveaways

If you would like to take the Blogging for Boobs Breast Bash button to add to your site, here is the code;

October 25, 2009

How Breast Cancer Affected My Life

Guest post by Karen @ Karen & Gerard Zemek

My routine mammogram turned out not to be so routine. Something suspicious showed up. I had a few cysts that were aspirated and were not cancerous; however, the biopsy on another suspicious mass turned out to be Cancer. I though how can that be? I feel fine! Thank God I followed up with a mammogram in six months as was recommended and caught it early.

Emotionally

After being told I had Cancer in my right breast in August of this year, I felt a little scared but also confident that I would be okay because so many have gone through this before me and survived. I determined not to let it control me but to go about life as much as normal. I never had surgery before and only went to the doctor for annual checkups. I always felt I was in good shape and healthy for my age. I shared my news with my friends and co-workers asking for their prayers because I really wanted to beat this thing and not need Chemo. I was very worried that if something went wrong and I didn’t make it through surgery, that my husband would be totally lost so I made a list to help him out just in case. This gave me the peace of mind I needed knowing that I was prepared for the worst, but hoped and prayed for the best.

Decisions

The surgeon gave me the option of having a lumpectomy where he just removes the cancer and some tissue around it and the first to lymph nodes to see if it spread, followed by chemo if necessary, then radiation treatments for 33 days and then take a pill for five years or have a mastectomy, remove the entire breast, and be done with it or have reconstruction if desired. After reading through the brochure, I chose to have the lumpectomy and save my breast. I called my Pastor and arranged to be anointed for healing the Sunday before my surgery. This was the first time I ever did this.

Surgery was scheduled and the only pain I experienced was when the “mapped” the area where to cut and inserting a big needle into my squished breast. I experienced no pain afterward and thought after surgery, I’d be able to resume my normal activities in a week or two, including going back to work and playing tennis and working out at the gym. WRONG! The surgery went very well and my incision looks good.

I was feeling good and felt a bit guilty for being home all day so I went back to work two weeks later but after just two days decided it was too soon. I couldn’t believe how tired out I was at the end of the day. I rested through the day more than I thought and just wasn’t ready for such a long day. The doctor gave me six weeks to heal and so I decided to just take that time off work since they were okay with that. This was the biggest change in my life. It was nice being home and having so much free time to do whatever I felt like doing. I spent most of the day on the computer but rested when I felt myself getting tired.   I loved being home with my cats and dog through the day and walked the dog for some exercise. I learned in the support group that I should exercise 4 hours a week and walking counted.

Eating Habits

Another huge change was that after attending a cancer support group right before I had surgery, I discovered that what we eat is very important because certain foods help the cancer to grow and others help feed the good cells to fight it off. Sugar is not my friend; donuts are my enemies. I used to have two or three donuts every Friday but I cut them out. I also started drinking green tea because it’s supposed to be very good for one’s body. I added more fruit to my diet and started eating vegetables, salad and started drinking V8 vegetable juice. I also went looking for some healthy snacks and came home with some sliced unsalted almonds, pitted prunes and fruit and nut trail mix.

Doctor Visits

I have to keep seeing different doctors for each phase of my treatment which involves many doctor appointments, bills to pay, insurance forms to complete, and FMLA forms to get filled out for time off work. I have follow-up appointments with the surgeon, appointments with a medical oncologist concerning the need for Chemo and learning about the pill I’ll be taking for five years, and the radiation treatments to look forward to every day for about 6 weeks except on the weekends. I am deciding if I should work half days during this time or just continue to stay off work until the end of these treatments.

Attitude

I am so thankful that I feel good and that the Cancer was in my breast rather than an actual “working” part of my body. I am praying for others and still trying to be a blessing to others just like before I was diagnosed with Cancer. I believe God has healed me and am thankful for this break I have from work. Life is precious and I am learning to focus on what’s most important--relationships with others. I am overwhelmed with all the prayers and encouragement I’ve received from friends, family, co-workers, church members, and bloggers.

Karen and Gerard Zemek

http://karen.pnn.com (Zemeks' Updates)

www.outskirtspress.com/myfunnydadharry

www.zemeks.blogspot.com (Karen & Gerard Zemek)

www.twitter/kzemek

Please don't forget to donate by clicking here for Keep a Breast or here for Susan G Komen.

Current Giveaways

If you would like to take the Blogging for Boobs Breast Bash button to add to your site, here is the code;

October 24, 2009

Nurses Really Matter

Guest post by Jennifer @ At Least It's A "Good" Cancer

The nurses matter because, after the doctor writes her orders, they are sent over to nurses who actually do everything. The nurse assigned to you for the day will be the one to find a vein, to stick a catheter into that vein, to sit and push toxic chemicals through the catheter into the vein, to check on you to be sure your arm is not swelling or reddening and your face isn't flushing. She'll talk to you and comfort you and explain all the side effects and then, later, take out the catheter and wrap up your hand so it doesn't bleed, and send you home.

The good ones get the needle stick on the first try.
The bad ones moan about your inconvenient veins and muddle around a bit under your skin...with a sharp object.

The good ones know that all the fluids, both hazardous and harmless, can hurt going in. So they set saline drips to be relatively slow, and sit with you to push ver-r-r-r-r-ry slowly, by hand, anything that is a real problem.
The bad ones have somewhere else to be, and just shove that plunger down quickly.

The good ones think about how your arm should be placed on its pillow, how the lines are draped (to stay out of our way); they place their warm hands, for heat, on your forearm when the chemicals are stinging.
The bad ones figure you can do all that yourself.

The good ones remember, week to week, that you are afraid of needles and don't like to watch that catheter being inserted. They remember that you don't want a warning, thanks--just stick it in while you look at the opposite wall. They notice when your anxiety is getting worse each time, and making your stomach upset for no other reason, and they recommend Atavan to help out, and then contact the oncology staff to get it prescribed. And then they give you a whole pill.
The bad ones don't notice any of this stuff, although they'll let you look away during the needle sticks.

The good ones stand there with nothing else to do, really, for 15 minutes to watch you and ask you questions when you get a new drug. Do you feel funny? Any changes? When you report that yes, on this new drug Taxol you are experiencing a tightening in your chest (harder to breathe) and these bizarre, spasmodic, pulsing pains in your lower back, she runs to the pharmacy and bangs on the window to get your Benadryl, and then slowly, slowly, pushes it into the saline drip (having turned off the Taxol for a while) and soothes you as the symptoms subside. She lingers more, waits to be sure you feel okay. When she restarts the Taxol (because that's what they do--no one is deterred by a little allergic reaction), she watches carefully again, asks all the questions, smiles at how groggy you're getting thanks to Atavan and a huge dose of IV Benadryl, doesn't leave until you have taken in 25cc's and it's clear you'll be OK this time.

The good ones are off shortly after 4, but say they can stay until 5 today (since your allergy problems didn't even resolve until after 4:15) so they can keep checking. They make sure to hand off smoothly to the nurse who will stay late, until almost 8pm, since your drip is 3 hours long and has to go slowly at first.

The good ones smile and laugh, tell you funny stories about movies they went to and happy stories about their upcomming weddings. They answer all questions with confidence. They have their share of complaints about the hospital's current bureaucratic admin changes, but they focus on the positive: "Change is always hard; we'll just learn it and we'll be fine." They tell stories of their own families' cancer histories, or their own; they talk about their years of experience giving chemotherapy, and why they do it, and the best ones have pet peeves that involve shirking on quality patient care, so you know you're in good hands.

Today's nurse, Lilia, who is the best nurse and whom I request, now (having learned my lesson), every time--told another story of a patient who was rude to her, who dropped her newspaper and told the doctor, as he bent to pick it up, "Don't worry--the girl will get it." She meant Lilia, who heard it and got all her ire raised. What a fool was this woman. She is still coming in to USC, and now the very best oncology nurse there--the one who can make sure you don't hurt, when let me tell you, other nurses make you hurt--doesn't like her. What a stupid and avoidable mistake.

The nurses make all the difference. Lilia stands between me and repeated pain. I feel so lucky to have found her (on my first day of chemo!) and so smart to continue requesting her. I hope she is paid extremely well, and I'm sure she's not. But she'll be able to look back on her life, and say honestly and deservedly, "I lived well, I did something important, I made a difference."

Please don't forget to donate by clicking here for Keep a Breast or here for Susan G Komen.

Current Giveaways

If you would like to take the Blogging for Boobs Breast Bash button to add to your site, here is the code;

October 23, 2009

Sherry's Story

Guest Post by Sherry @ Everyday Possibilities

Life was moving at a fast pace for me in the spring of 2005. I was busy with my children, I had been working part time and was ready to move back into the world of full time employment. Life looked good, it looked promising and it seemed I was on track to be realizing some dreams and goals that I had set for myself. With that in mind, I booked a complete physical which included a very thorough breast exam and my doctor suggested a mammogram since it had been a few years since my last one. I was early to be having mammograms in my 40s, but because I had felt a lump a few years earlier which turned out to be a cyst I was now eligible to have them every few years. I booked the mammogram and the soonest time available was the morning of a big job interview but I knew I wanted to have the mammogram done before I started working full time. Providence? My inner voice telling me to go as soon as possible? No one has the answer to that but it was the mammogram that changed my life. Malignant tumour of 2 cms. Stage II Infiltrating Ductal Carcinoma with one lymph node involved. Breast cancer.

I went through all the routine tests. I had a lumpectomy and an axillary dissection (the removal of as many lymph nodes as possible). There were good margins on the mass taken from my breast and with 8 rounds of chemo, 30 hits of radiation to breast and under arm and a year of Herceptin (my pathology was er/pr- which meant the tumour was not fed by hormones, and Her2+ which meant the tumour over expressed Her2 neu gene which indicated an aggressive form of the cancer that affects 25% of breast cancer patients). I now count myself as a 4 year and counting thriver. I prefer the term thriver to survivor. To thrive means to live. To survive gives me the feeling that I am hanging on to a thread, gasping to keep living. I prefer to think of myself as living this life I’ve been given.

As with most cancer patients I questioned the why. Why did this happen to me? What made this happen? Why did I develop cancer? And I learned through all of the “why” that there is no answer and there is no need for an answer to that question. It happens.

Not long ago someone asked me if I thought that I had done something to cause my breast cancer. I was able to answer an emphatic no. How could I cause something like this? Breast cancer happens for a variety of reasons that all have to do with biology and science. It is a mutation in cells within the body. I am not a scientist and scientists have been working on this disease for many years. If there was a specific reason or a specific thing that we did to cause breast cancer, I think by now we would know that and the cure would be at hand.

There are lists of “possible” causes or contributing factors to developing breast cancer. This list has been produced by cancer research organizations and support agencies. Is what they say true? I’m not convinced that it is. Every October magazines and publications list “things you can do to prevent breast cancer”. I see this as a placebo to prevent panic and to make us feel that perhaps we can do something to stop breast cancer in its tracks. It’s lovely to think that this would be possible and yet I have met many women on this journey who lived clean healthy lives. They exercised regularly, didn’t smoke, didn’t drink alcohol, watched what they ate and yet they had breast cancer. Some of them much more serious and advanced than mine. We can do everything “right” and still develop the disease. Does this explain the number of women who are being diagnosed in their 20s and 30s? These young women haven’t lived enough to have created any of the list of possiblilities.

I lived a good life. I looked at the list when I was given all the information and pamphlets upon diagnosis and worried that I was responsible when I could put a check mark beside two of the “possible” factors. There I was, already frightened that I was going to die, and now I was blaming myself for causing this to happen. Giving this kind of information to people who are now fast tracked to perhaps the end of the line is like saying “well, if only you had done this or hadn’t done that you would still be further back in the line.” How cruel! I was making myself feel even worse than I already did. At that moment I threw that particular pamphlet into the trash can and determined then and there that this was not my fault, that this had happened and I was going to fight back. I told myself that cancer had picked the wrong chick to mess with and that I was still me, I was not my pathology, I was not the statistics (which by the way are usually about 5 years behind at any time) and I was not going to allow myself or anyone else to tell me how this was going to play out.

What I knew was that I had been living a stress filled life for too many years. I had had other health issues crop up from time to time which I had always been able to closely link with stress. Did I learn from my previous experiences? Obviously not if I was being hammered over the head with a cancer diagnosis to wake my mind up to the fact that I was putting my immune system at risk. So I lowered my stress level and have been able to keep stress out of my life.

Did stress cause my breast cancer? Not directly though I would say it played a large part in the chemical makeup of my body and it impaired my immune system. Having done that, it opened the door for the cells to run rampant through my body and the “code” in my system was jeopardized. So I learned to treat my body with more respect and that I needed to be sure my mind, my body and my spirit were working in tandem.

Why did I get breast cancer? Why does anyone get breast cancer…we have two breasts. This applies to men as well as women. While men make up a small percentage of those who develop breast cancer they do. Two breasts, that’s all it takes. It doesn’t get any simpler than that.

Please don't forget to donate by clicking here for Keep a Breast or here for Susan G Komen.

Current Giveaways

If you would like to take the Blogging for Boobs Breast Bash button to add to your site, here is the code;

October 22, 2009

Meet Tami

Guest post by Tami @ Miracle Survivors

After years of working in public relations at hospitals and other healthcare institutions, I was suddenly thrust into life as a patient.

On February 4, 2008, I learned I had a recurrence of the breast cancer – just months after my five-year, cancer-free anniversary. This time I was told it was incurable and terminal. One doctor told me, “You could live two years or 20 years, but you’ll die from breast cancer.”

At first I was devastated, but soon got angry. How does she know how long I have to live? She doesn’t know me and how determined I am!

I needed to talk with other cancer survivors who didn’t accept doctors’ predictions … people who beat the odds. And I was determined to find out how they did it so I could do it myself. So I started talking with people whom I call “miracle survivors.” Their stories helped drown out my fears and negative thinking. I knew if they could do it, I could too … and I wanted to share their inspirational stories with others.

I began interviewing outstanding survivors around the country for my book-in-progress, From Incurable to Incredible: Cancer Survivors Who Beat the Odds and my blog www.miraclesurvivors.com. It’s my way of sharing these stories and the things I learned along the way that has contributed to my current state of remission.

As I write this, I remain cancer-free. I know that can change, but I also know that no matter what, I can meet the challenge. I know I need to be here for my daughter, who is 10 and in the fifth grade. My biggest pleasure in life is embracing and repeatedly kissing her soft cheeks. As she giggles and squirms, I’m reminded how lucky I am to be experiencing that moment.

Please don't forget to donate by clicking here for Keep a Breast or here for Susan G Komen.

Current Giveaways

If you would like to take the Blogging for Boobs Breast Bash button to add to your site, here is the code;

October 21, 2009

Sara's Story

Guest post by Sara @ Cancer Ain't Gonna Beat Me

I am a part time mobile dog groomer and one day in January 2009 I was chatting to a customer about a terminally ill neighbour when I put my hand to my chest and felt a lump. My blood ran cold and for a few seconds I felt the room go distant. I managed to pull myself together and decided that there was no point in worrying about it because the doctors surgery was closed until the morning. The next day, I booked an emergency appointment and was referred to the hospital for further investigation.

Two weeks later I was in the hospital for a mammogram and ultrasound scan. Everything seemed fine until I walked into the consultants tiny room to be confronted by the registrar, the consultant, a nurse and the MacMillan Cancer Nurse. The first words he spoke were “You can see that we are taking this seriously”. I was told that whether it was cancer or not it would have to be removed because he didn’t like the look of it. The registrar then proceeded to take a two sample biopsies. When the second biopsy was unsuccessful, the consultant brushed her away saying “we NEED to get a good sample” and I knew then I was in trouble.

Five long days passed before my results and it was confirmed that at the age of 42 I had stage 3 Breast Cancer which was hormone sensitive and HER2 positive. I felt my whole world had collapsed. My first thoughts were for my children, I have fought so hard for so many years to get my little boy (then aged 7) the assistance he needed as he is autistic who would be there for him if anything happened to me? I will always remember my surgeons words “you are young, we are going to throw everything at you, and this year is pretty much ruined but the next 40 are going to be great”

I had my lumpectomy on 13^th February 2009. I should have been at a party but instead I was laying in hospital recovering from my op. Luckily, my lumpectomy was successful and the tumour was removed with a generous clear margin and the cancer had not spread to my lymph nodes. The tumour was 33mm in size, so quite large! I know have a 3 inch scar across my right breast. I started chemotherapy on 20^th March the day before my husbands birthday. I had 4 lots of Epi-Ruebeson and 4 lots of CMF which spanned over 6 months. In all, I received 12 doses of chemo through a canula and towards the end my veins were collapsing. My last doses of chemo took place on 3^rd September 2009, our 15^th wedding anniversary and finally on 10^th September 2009, the 19^th anniversary of my older brothers death. It was a bitter sweet time for me.

I started my radiotherapy immediately after chemo had finished and I currently have 6 more sessions left. After that I will be on Tamoxifen for 5 years and herceptin for a year. I would say that the hardest part of my treatment was losing my hair. This was an outward sign that I had cancer, I no longer had a choice over who knew and who didnt

I have been incredibly lucky with my fight with Breast Cancer; I found the tumour by accident, it had not spread to the nodes, because of my 30FF boobs I was able to have a successful lumpectomy and I have had the most wonderfully supportive husband without whom I just wouldn’t have coped so well.

This year I have had to give up so much; my business because I have been too ill to deal with dogs, my running which I loved and was ready for my first 10K race and swimming. However I am excited about returning to these activities and in the meantime I have acquired new skills! At last I am able to use the computer and have enjoyed blogging www.canceraintgonnabeatme.blogspot.com and face book. I have made wonderful new friends and rediscovered old ones. I have taken up photography and take part in the Friday My Town Shoot Out so cancer isn’t all bad.

I still cant quite believe that I have had cancer. Last year I ran the Race for Life to raise money for cancer research, little did I know that I would be diagnosed with cancer a few months later. Cancer has taught me how precious life is and how much I value my friends and family. It has made me realise that you have to make the most of each day and look for the good in bad. Cancer has changed my life but Cancer Ain’t Gonna Beat Me – I am a survivor!

On a final note: If you have boobs – check em!!!! A simple, regular check just may save your life or make the difference between a lumpectomy or a mastectomy. Cancer knows no barriers! It does not discriminate.

Please don't forget to donate by clicking here for Keep a Breast or here for Susan G Komen.

Current Giveaways

***My sister is also offering a Breast Cancer related giveaway on her site. Check it out HERE.****

If you would like to take the Blogging for Boobs Breast Bash button to add to your site, here is the code;

October 17, 2009

Dating with Cancer

Post written by Cathy @ In My Life

Dating was tough enough. It took me many years before I felt comfortable putting myself out there again. I had been widowed at a young age. When I was 25 after only 2 years of marriage my high school sweetheart was killed in a car accident along with his younger brother who was driving the car that day. I thought then that losing my husband would be the worst thing to ever happen to me. In some ways it was and still is. I guess I was just hoping that it meant I was getting the worst out of the way early in life. I would find out how wrong I was 7 years later when I found a lump in my breast at 31 years old.

My first thought when I heard the words “you have cancer” was death. I figured I would be reunited with my husband sooner rather than later. After some of the shock wore off I was able to realize that if I survived losing him that I would somehow survive cancer.

So there I was a young single woman facing a mastectomy, reconstruction, and then 6 months of chemo. I was living on my own and working as an OT at a local hospital. I was hoping I would be ok physically, emotionally, as well as financially. On August 20, 2001 I had 10 hours of surgery to remove my breast and then build a new one using my own belly fat and a piece of my stomach muscle. The formal name is TRAM flap reconstruction which I aptly named my free tummy tuck. I spent a week in the hospital and 3 months out of work during which I began chemo. I continued to date during all of it. Once my hair fell out dating got much trickier. I was dealing with the bald thing and chemo induced menopause but somehow I was still hopeful that I could find love again. I struggled with disclosure unsure of when to tell the guy about my cancer. Sooner rather than later my hair loss would make decision for me as I couldn’t hide the cancer anymore. Some guys would bow out gracefully and then others were just mean. Often times I wanted to throw in the towel. I think what kept me putting myself out there during cancer treatment was that it helped me to still feel alive. All of the things in my life that made sense like going to work, going out with friends and dating became the things that helped me feel a little more normal during my surgery and treatment. No doubt it was difficult especially when I met the guy who told me “You are lucky I am with someone like you…”

As I was nearing the end of chemo I put myself out there online yet one more time and met a man who could see past all the scars and the bald head to the person hidden inside. He had just lost his mom to breast cancer a month before our first online conversation and yet he still wanted to meet me. We celebrated our 6th anniversary on May 31 the same date as my cancer diagnosis. I am now an 8 year survivor. As difficult as life gets sometimes we have to try and move forward. Life shouldn’t stop with a cancer diagnosis. Despite all the fear the best we can do is keep on living.

Cathy Bueti is the author of Breastless in the City. Visit her at www.cathybueti.com

Sorry, this giveaway has ended. Please find our current giveaways in the sidebar.

Cathy has decided to offer one copy of her book Breastless in the City to one of our readers.

To enter: Visit Cathy's Site and leave a comment with something you found interesting on her site. You must do this before any additional entries will be allowed.

For additional entries (Please leave separate comments for each entry) you can do any/all of the following:

Donate money to support Breast Cancer by clicking on one of the donate buttons on the right side of my blog. 10 additional entries for donating! Don't forget to leave 10 extra comments.
Blog about the Blogging for Boobs Breast Bash and this giveaway and paste the button on your blog. Just copy/paste the code from my sidebar to your site.
"Follow" my blog on blogger
Tweet about the Blogging for Boobs Breast Bash and this giveaway. Use #b4bbb in your tweet so I can find it.

Giveaway ends on October 31 at midnight. The winner will be posted the following day.

***If you are already a follower of my blog, please be sure to leave a comment so that your additional entry is counted.

Please note: this offer is open to US residents only.

WINNER - Carma

Please don't forget to donate by clicking here for Keep a Breast or here for Susan G Komen.

Current Giveaways

Bad Ass Survivor Pendant

Cooking For A Cure

Digital Invitation

Glass Pendant

Orglamix Organic Eyeshadow

If you would like to take the Blogging for Boobs Breast Bash button to add to your site, here is the code;

October 15, 2009

Walking For The Cure

Post written by Katie @ Why Bother

It was a cold day in March of 2009. Voices of many mingled in the air as the clouds hung low around us. People lingered here and there, too many to count. Booths of white canopies poked through the sea of heads and music swayed in the trees.

I made a mental note to myself that I was glad for my light running cover-up found at the bottom of my son’s jogging stroller. It would have been a long, chilly walk without it. In the jogger that sat next to me my son was strapped in and sucking a small pink lollipop as I pinned my boyfriends Race For The Cure participant number into his shirt back.

We were one in thousands, a sea of people pulled together for a similar cause: to find a cure for breast cancer.

Among us were the similarly numbered people ready to walk, jog or roll along for the cure of the killer disease that affects so many. But mixed in between the plainly numbered folk were bright signs and pink banners. These I stopped to read.

Some were worn in celebration of those walking with them, the survivors and the fighting.

Some were worn to honor the future women and men yet to battle for their lives.

And some, a few too many in my opinion, were worn in memory of a fighter who didn’t win.

The sea of pink and numbers blurred as I teared up from the overwhelming flood of emotions. I was about to walk with people who were battling for their lives, battling for a cure, and some where battling for their breasts. Fighting for themselves, for those who have gone before them and for our future generations.

I wiped at my tears and took a deep breath. This was going to be a glorious day as I took a step forward to raise money for a cure with thousands beside me. I may not be a survivor or a fighter, but I’m the future and I was walking for myself.

As my hand returned to my side, I felt my boyfriend reach down and squeeze it lovingly. I smiled at him and realized that he, too, was walking for me. Then the jogging stroller shook and my son’s sandy brown head peeked out and asked if it was time to go. I realized he, too, was walking for me.

We were all walking. Walking to honor the fallen. Walking to celebrate with the living. Walking to fight for the future.

Walking for the cure.

Please don't forget to donate by clicking here for Keep a Breast or here for Susan G Komen.

Current Giveaways

If you would like to take the Blogging for Boobs Breast Bash button to add to your site, here is the code;

October 14, 2009

Don't give it power over you & Pink Ribbon Blues

Mel @ The Cancer Warrior was kind enough to share 2 posts with us.

Don't give it power over you

https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcGMNhwz7FCXlMOvd1IWV9NSwaaEYyZAqr_c9LCMtclK1v2mGTJlx9ftAO06FHSQwK2iTqP64bsoCozCm2RgZ9vSkI0oix65YO3swWD7NkScc6GZhYvHPc7RFTLdQwzZftYQo3rvISiO8/s200/Electricity.jpg

I read alot. Books, articles on the internet, other blogs.
One thing I have noticed is that people give cancer too much power. Of
course when it is all around you it feels like it has power over you,
over every little piece of you, your mind, your body, sometimes even
your spirit. To battle it, the drugs they give you can make your skin
feel weird, your hair fall out, make you feel like someone else. After
treatment is over your survivorship begins, back to work, back to the
normal routine of everyday life, going from 6 doctor visits a month
back to the daily routine of work is kind of like a culture shock, kind
of like when I moved here from California.

Cancer
can consume you if you let it, taking over your thoughts and everything
around you. That is giving it power. Writing about it, capitalizing the
actual word cancer in my mind gives it power. Don't get me wrong, I
obviously know the hold this disease can have over you, your friends, your
family. Some days I used to feel that I would go into work and try to
hide being upset and think that my co workers would think "oh there is
cancer girl", upset at (fill in the blank.) Some days I would feel like
I would want to crawl inside myself and hide, like no one else in the
world could possibly feel like I did. Talking to other survivors I know
that is not the case, but to me that is what it felt like.

A
good friend of mine and 4 time cancer survivor said that a positive
mental attitude can go a long way. I agree. Keeping a good sense of
humor during a difficult time like battling a disease can be hard,
especially when there are bills to pay, side effects to deal with,
friends and family not knowing what to say or what to do to help, and
just dealing with, well, life in general. I was able to keep my sense
of humor during recovery from surgery, chemo, radiation, and now just
survivorship in general.

Find your bliss, find what makes you happy in difficult times. Don't give cancer power over you.

Pink Ribbon Blues

I
originally posted this blog on StupidCancer.com in December, but with
the new Grey's Anatomy season finale I found it appropriate.

I was diagnosed with Invasive Ductal
Carcinoma Breast Cancer in September of 2007, a couple of weeks shy of
my 38th birthday. Of course I was in the usual shock and state of panic
that

everyone
goes through at such as emotional time but I also had the unfortunate
luck of being diagnosed right before Breast Cancer Awareness month in
October. So not only did I celebrate my birthday with this news I had
to see that damn pink ribbon everywhere.

Now
you think I am exaggerating when I mean everywhere, but there it was
like a cloud of dirt around pig pen, following me everywhere. "Hey want
to go to the store?" my boyfriend asks, "Sure I say" shopping always
makes me feel better, but no can't escape that ribbon. Its on shampoo, soft drinks, keychains, yogurt, milk, golf balls soda cans and kitty litter, yes I said kitty litter, so everytime
my cat Rocky makes a deposit in his box a portion of the proceeds will
go to the breast cancer charity of your choice right??!!! I could not
escape it.

TV,
I will watch TV, but NO!! Every station seemed to have one of those
"very special episodes" with the disease of the week being cancer. Even
those Desperate Housewives had one of their own go through breast
cancer. While I am sure most of America felt her pain, at the end of
the day Felicity Huffman, the actress who played the character with
cancer, could remove her scarf, take off the make up
that made her look sick and hop in her car and drive off of the lot and
go home, far away from cancer. I am sure she probably did what most
actors do in these situations, when they find out that their character
will be diagnosed with some disease she probably spent time in a cancer
ward "researching" what its
like. No offense Felicity, but a few days researching is nothing like
actually going through it. (Sorry if I offend you Ms. Huffman, but your
character was the reason I stopped watching your show last year, I
watch TV to escape reality not be smacked over the head with it.) And
don't even get me started on Lifetime, television for women. I think I
deleted that off of mhy cable box last year, and it was one of the main reasons why I had to start taking xanax.
Sorry but I really don't want to know why you wore lipstick to your
mastectomy, and aren't there rules in the hospital about wearing
makeup? I couldn't even keep my earrings in and they let you wear
makeup?

Its
been a year now and I am over my frustration and disgust with the pink
ribbon. I have actually come to embrace it. In January of next year I
will be getting a tattoo of the ribbon on my back to commemorate my
battle. Am I a hypocrite? I don't think so. I have just grown that's
all. But take my advice. If you are going to get breast cancer, get it
in the summer, far away from those "very special episodes" kitty litter
pink ribbon special offers.

Listen to me on the Vic McCarty show 10-noon eastern time on wmktthetalkstation. com.

Please don't forget to donate by clicking here for Keep a Breast or here for Susan G Komen.

Current Giveaways

If you would like to take the Blogging for Boobs Breast Bash button to add to your site, here is the code;

October 31, 2009

Breast Cancer and Hispanic Women

October 30, 2009

Gina's Smile

October 29, 2009

The Unbearable Tenderness of Boys

October 28, 2009

Racing for the Cure

October 26, 2009

"You're so strong, I could never do that"

October 25, 2009

How Breast Cancer Affected My Life

October 24, 2009

Nurses Really Matter

October 23, 2009

Sherry's Story

October 22, 2009

Meet Tami

October 21, 2009

Sara's Story

October 17, 2009

Dating with Cancer

October 15, 2009

Walking For The Cure

October 14, 2009

Don't give it power over you & Pink Ribbon Blues

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