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Survivor Stories
Luanne
Breast Cancer Survivor
On April 18, 2005, my only daughter, 21 years of age, was killed by a drunk driver. Eight months after she was killed I went in for a mammogram. Before I knew it, I was having an ultra sound followed by a MRI. By January, 2006, I was meeting with Ingrid Sharon, MD, a breast surgeon, who told me I had stage 4 breast cancer. I started chemo in January with Timothy Murphy, MD. I had a left mastectomy and 27 lymph nodes removed in June; 24 lymph nodes were still positive but my tumor shrank from 18 cm to 9 cm. After surgery I had radiation every day before work until the end of September. All this time, working full time.
Being a single parent of two children for many years, I counted my blessings: I still had my son. I continue to work with extreme fatigue. I pray every day that I am still cancer-free.
The past two years have been a nightmare but breast cancer is nothing compared to losing your child. I pray every day for strength that I beat this and will be here for my son.
I wanted to tell you my story. All my doctors can't believe how well I have survived the past two years. I can assure you it hasn't been easy. And, it hasn't been cheap. I have spent everything I worked for over the years trying to beat breast cancer. I pray it "pays off" in the future!
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Meredith
Breast Cancer Survivor
My name is Meredith. I am 29 years old, a wife, a mother and a 3-year breast cancer survivor.
My journey began November 17, 2003. I remember the day like it was only yesterday. The day was sunny and unusually warm for November. My mom and my newborn baby went with me to get my first and only mammogram. I remember sitting in my gown surrounded by women much older than I was. I remember thinking to myself "I don't belong here". The tech called my name and I went in for what turned out to be my saving grace. After about 1 hour I got called back in for the mammogram results. My worse fear was confirmed. There was an 80% chance it was breast cancer and I needed to schedule a biopsy immediately. I ran out of the room leaving my mother, baby and the radiologist. I could not stand to hear the words. I had cancer! How could I have breast cancer at 25 years old? I just had a baby. I wanted to see my baby take his first steps, say his first word. My life was now full of uncertainty. My surgeon scheduled me to have a biopsy the following Monday. I cried through the whole procedure. I went home and had the longest wait of my entire life. 24 hours later it was officially confirmed. I had invasive ductal carcinoma with extensive DCIS, a non-invasive breast cancer. Because of the extensive DCIS, I had no choice but to have a mastectomy. When my surgeon told me I had to have a mastectomy, I was shocked! I was going to lose my breast at only 25. 2 days later I had my mastectomy and sentinel node biopsy. When I awoke from the mastectomy my entire chest was covered in bandages and I had 2 drains in my side. The drains were in place to keep the swelling to a minimum. It didn't hit me until a month later that I only had 1 breast. I didn't feel beautiful anymore.
Thankfully, my lymph nodes came back negative. I thought this was the end of my breast cancer journey, but in reality it was just the beginning. I went to three different oncologists. Every oncologist had a different opinion on what course of treatment I should have. After seeing the three oncologists, I picked the one that made me feel safe, the one that gave me a hug and said you're going to be fine. At that time in my life, that is what I needed to hear. I needed to hear that I was going to be okay because I didn't know what my future held. My oncologist and I decided on three months of chemotherapy because of my age. Since I was diagnosed young, the breast cancer seemed to be more aggressive. The day of my first chemo, my mother, husband and sister-in-law came with me. I walked into the chemo room with my hair done, makeup on, and head held high. I thought if I looked good then the chemo wouldn't touch me. It was hard for me to sit in the chemo room. Everyone looked at me wondering why I was there. Giving me sympathetic looks. I was the youngest in the room by at least 20 years. I could not be in the room. I asked the nurse if I could go into a private room. My family and I put on a movie and I tried not to think about what was going into my body. 21 days after my first chemo, I started to lose my hair. Losing my hair was harder than losing a breast. My blonde hair was my identity. I could hide the fact that I lost my breast, but how was I going to hide the fact that I lost my hair? I wore my wig almost 24/7. I could not bear to have my husband, children or even myself see me without hair.
Going in for my 2nd, 3rd and final chemo was a little easier because I knew what to expect. I told myself I was going to try and sit in the chemotherapy room with all the other women and men getting their chemo. I sat in the same chair at every treatment. The chair was in the back and it made me feel safe. After a while I was laughing and joking around with the other women and men in the chemotherapy room. One thing I learned was that even though the people surrounding me in the chemotherapy room were fighting for their lives, they still had so much more life left. They were happy to be alive; they cherished every moment and always took the opportunity to laugh. Those women and men taught me to do the same. After chemotherapy ended I decided to have a prophylactic mastectomy and reconstruction on both sides. I wanted to be whole again. I wanted to be able to dress in tank tops. After I had the reconstruction, I felt like a new person. I felt whole again. I even felt beautiful, and that was something I hadn't felt for a very long time.
6 months later I decided to have a total hysterectomy to eliminate the estrogen in my body. The hysterectomy sent me into complete menopause at the age of 26. The decision to have the hysterectomy did not come easy. Part of me still wanted to have children. But most importantly, I wanted to be here for my children and my husband. I am still feeling the effects of the hysterectomy. I frequently have hot flashes, some weight gain, and low sex drive. Menopause is no piece of cake.
I won't say the last 3 years have been easy. It's been tough. A roller coster of emotions. But I did learn some important lessons.
You can survive Breast Cancer. You know your body better than anyone. Monthly breast exams can save your life. The earlier you catch breast cancer, the better your prognosis. You can and do get breast cancer young. If you think you have a lump, or in my case a bloody nipple discharge, go to the doctor. Keep going to the doctor until someone listens.
It gives me great pride in being able to help others with my story. I even co-facilitate a support group for young women with breast cancer at Penrose Hospital.
Sometimes I still look at my mastectomy scars and can't believe what has happened the last 3 years. Those scars tell a story, the story of my fight for survival. Thank you for listening to my story.
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 Dee Cartwright
2008 El Paso County Honorary Survivor
In December of 1993, I was diagnosed with breast cancer after finding a lump in my left breast. I was working in Naples Italy, for the 6 th Fleet, as a Budget Analyst and so received a radical mastectomy and radiation treatment in Italy. The Naval doctors sent me to Boston’s Women’s hospital in February 1994, where I received chemotherapy. I was joined by my husband Dan and children Daniel, Michael and Rebekah three months later in Ayer, Massachusetts. After Dan assisted with the closure of Fort Devens, in Massachusetts, he was assigned to Fort Carson 10 th Special Forces. We all moved to Fountain, Colorado, in 1995.
Since moving to Fountain I have become a volunteer in the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure® and have attended races in Denver and Colorado Springs. I will celebrate my 14th year of being cancer free in December of this year. Because I lost my mother, older sister, and two aunts to breast cancer and my daughter Rebekah is a high-risk candidate for breast cancer, I am determined to get the word out to as many young women as possible. I feel education is the key to survival, and that is one of the reasons I became the secretary for the Colorado Springs Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure® Executive Committee and a volunteer for the Education Committee.
In 1975, I married Daniel Cartwright and began working for the US government as a civilian. In addition to my three birth children, I opened my home to six other children with no assistance from the state. I am also an Exchange Student Parent to three young people from Brazil who are attending Colorado College in Colorado Springs. This makes my third year being part of the Exchange Student Program for Colorado College. I have one birth grandson (Gabriel) and two grandchildren from the six children to whom I gave a home.
I have always been a Christian woman with a love for children, but also saw the need for encouraging civil and women’s rights. Not only did I work to gain equal rights for women in the military, but I was also part of the nonviolent Civil Rights movement of the 1960’s. I put actions to my belief that people should receive equal pay when performing the same job regardless of race, creed, or sex.
I believe in change for the better and being a participant in making change and not just talking. That is why I will continue to work with the Colorado Springs Affiliate of Susan G. Komen for the Cure.
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 Amy Whitcomb
2008 Pueblo County Honorary Survivor
I am honored to be the 2008 Honorary Susan G. Komen Survivor from Pueblo County. I was 30 when I was diagnosed with breast cancer. It was a shock, as well as a life-changing challenge, which I have overcome with the support of Joe Even, my companion of 14 yrs.
My challenge began in August of 2002 when I found a lump in my right breast. When they suggested a biopsy, I thought why not? It’s only a cyst, but to my surprise it was a cancerous tumor. Afraid of what lay ahead, I decided that I would have to start my fight with a positive attitude and the support of several friends and family. The stress and tension a serious illness puts on family and friends are unimaginable. However, it is they who get you through the hard times.
I worked during treatment except for treatment days and the few days afterward. I also volunteered as Treasurer for the Professional Wild Horse Racers, Inc, and tried to keep up with the traveling to help deal with the stress of having cancer. Everyone who goes through chemo is warned of the side effect of hair loss, but nothing can prepare you for the shock of baldness, as all women value their hair in a way no one would understand. However, my boyfriend Joe and one of our friends went bald with me, which was a great support. After 3 to 4 months of chemotherapy, being sick in bed not able to do much for myself, it was time to start radiation treatments. It was during radiation that my grandfather (a great supporter) passed away. It was another emotional drain on me. I finished treatment, was told I had to continue tamoxifen for 5 years, and thought I was home free.
Two months after my treatment had ended, the employment that I had also ended. The loss of my employment and the medical bills forced me to sell my house, which was yet another emotional drain. I thought when will it end! In 2004 I came across the support group called Bosom Buddies, and the Pueblo Survivor and Friends Team where I met many neat ladies who took me under their wing and taught me that I was not alone and that there were other women experiencing the same things. It was then that I learned about Komen, what a strong impact they have on people’s lives and how they are there to help. I attended my first Race for the Cure® in 2004; what an inspiration it was to be around so many others fighting the same challenge. It made me feel as though I was on top of the world.
I now have been in remission for 5 years, overcoming all the struggles and obstacles. I am also on my way to the big island of Hawaii in December for a week to celebrate the success, because I feel I deserve it. Looking back, I am proud to say I survived. Family and friends are the most powerful medication; without their support I would not be where I am today. You can survive the cancer, but the financial burden is a lot to deal with as it never seems to go away. You always have to make the best of a bad situation no matter what. Keep a positive attitude and things seem to work out. So I am here to say to anyone with a challenge that I feel there is hope as long as you keep positive and always remember that everything happens for a reason; you just never know why.
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 Shelley Kurka
2008 Teller County Honorary Survivor
In April of 2005, at 51, I felt wonderful: our children were in college, I had my husband of 30 years all to myself, and my job was great. Life was fantastic! I was reminded by the card on the showerhead to do my usual breast self-exam. I felt a large lump located where previous years of mammograms and ultrasound had shown water cysts. As I expected, my physician confirmed it felt like the same water cyst, advising an ultrasound and preparing me to have it aspirated due to its size. And so the timeline begins.
June 2005: Off I go to Penrad Imaging, where the findings are the same as my primary care physician had thought. I think nothing of this, as 99.9% of the time this process turns out to be nothing. The pathology report reads: “The atypia could be degenerative but is suspicious for carcinoma.” My response is “OK, I want this out.”
July 2005: With the pathology report in hand, I visit the Breast Specialist Surgeon whose recommendation is to wait 6 months because the water cyst has drained and the exact location cannot be found. The compromise is to wait a month until the cyst is filled with fluid again and another ultrasound can identify the area.
August 2005: After an ultrasound finds the location, I’m scheduled for outpatient surgery for removal of the right breast lesion.
August 29, 2005: Pathology report: INVASIVE LOBULAR CARCINOMA, LOBULAR CARCINOMA IN SITU, AND DUCTAL CARCINOMA IN SITU RIGHT BREAST. My surgeon is just as surprised as I am. All I hear in my head is CANCER. My options: lumpectomy with lymph node evaluation followed with radiation and hormone therapy or mastectomy with lymph node evaluation followed by chemotherapy if needed and hormone therapy. This was supposed to be 99.9% nothing--not 100% cancer.
September 2005: My surgeon schedules an MRI. The results: Two other cancer areas are located in the right breast with possible cancer spreading to the pectoral muscle. In the left breast, two benign areas and one area that CANNOT be identified. OK! Now, I want both breasts removed. My surgeon encourages us to go on our pre-planned 30th Anniversary Cruise. We arrive home to find that the Memorial Cancer Consulting Group has recommended surgery to evaluate lymph node involvement and to insert a port for chemotherapy. Two days after our cruise, surgery is done. I’m relieved my lymph nodes test negative. My decision is to have both breasts removed after chemotherapy. I know this is best for me. I will re-think reconstruction later.
January 2006: A double mastectomy is performed. Pathology reports clear margins. Follow up hormone therapy for 5 years.
This cancer journey has been a life-awakening experience. I became an advocate about my own health. I asked questions, looking for options and answers from everyone: professionals, survivors, caregivers and the Internet. Support came from everyone, everywhere. Many shared personal information, feelings of being alone, and lack of knowledge/education during their cancer experience.
Several months after my surgery, I felt I needed to give back what so many had offered to me. With the help of Britta Newcomer at Memorial, I created a Cancer Support and Educational Group in Teller County.
I am looking forward to supporting and participating in the 2008 Komen Race for the Cure®.
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Donna Toledano
2007 Teller County Honorary Survivor
I am honored to be the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure honorary breast cancer survivor for 2007 from Teller County, Colorado. I am a 50 year old wife, mother, sister, and aunt. I have worked in the legal field for more than 25 years as a senior paralegal specializing in utility law an am currently employed at Colorado Springs Utilities. In early 1996, I felt a lump in my right breast. My physician, after mammogram results, assured me that it was nothing to worry about – just fat in the tissues. The lump was ignored for nearly two years until I had another physical exam. This time my physician said the lump felt like a cyst that he could aspirate. A mammogram was done to be sure. The results showed that I had stage II breast cancer. I was 42 years old and scared to death. My paternal grandmother had died from breast cancer and my mother had died from ovarian cancer. I was immediately scheduled for a radical mastectomy and transflap reconstruction to be followed with chemotherapy. I was set against having chemotherapy because I saw how ill it had made my mother. My boss convinced me to go to the nation’s top breast cancer research and treatment hospital in Texas for a second opinion. It was not easy convincing my insurance to let me get the second opinion out of state. M.D. Anderson’s diagnosis was the same, but a different treatment plan was recommended, leaving the tumor intact as a marker and doing chemotherapy prior to any other procedures. If the cancer responded and the tumor shrunk, I could possibly have a lumpectomy instead of a mastectomy. It made a lot of sense to me.
My local oncologist agreed to follow that recommendation. What a drastic change of heart: I went from refusing to consider chemotherapy to agreeing to have it prior to any other medical procedure. After the third treatment, an ultrasound showed that the tumor had shrunk by more than 50 percent. I had a lumpectomy and a month later started radiation treatments. I worked full time throughout my radiation and chemo treatments.
In March of 2004 my son (and only child) was shipped to Iraq. That summer, my right arm began swelling. I was told it was lymphedema. I could not understand why it would begin six years later and kept pestering the doctors for answers. I knew something wasn’t right. A CAT scan, MRI, and ultrasound were all done - nothing showed up. I kept asking “why.” Finally my oncologist ordered a PET test, which showed three very small tumors. My breast cancer had recurred. Telling my son about the recurrence while he was in Iraq was very difficult. I asked the radiation oncologist to keep me alive long enough to see my son return from Iraq. Again, I worked full time throughout my radiation and chemo treatments. My son’s unit returned from Iraq and I was there to greet him. All treatments were completed in February 2005 and since that time, I have had several clear PET tests. I still struggle with lymphedema but am thankful that there is no sign of disease.
I have learned from my cancer experience that you have to be your own advocate, trust your instincts, keep asking questions and looking for answers. I encourage anyone faced with an illness to find out as much as they can about the illness and all treatment options. Ask questions, do research and talk to others. Be as active in your health care as possible and make educated decisions.
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 Jennifer L. Walsh
2007 El Paso County Honorary Survivor
My story began in 1994 while a Technical Sergeant on active duty with the U.S. Air Force. During a routine annual doctor’s visit, the nurse practitioner found a lump. One month later after an ultrasound, my first mammogram and a biopsy, I was diagnosed with Breast Cancer. I was 31 years old. I had no family history of Breast Cancer; I exercised regularly, didn’t smoke, or drink in excess and considered myself in good shape. Within one month of my diagnosis, I was scheduled for a Modified Radical Mastectomy with immediate TRAM Flap reconstruction. Due to my young age we decided to go with 7 weeks of radiation therapy, 6 cycles of CMF chemotherapy and 5 years of Tamoxifen. Yes, we decided on the additional treatment after getting mixed opinions from 3 treatment facilities (military and civilian.) I had to feel confident that I had taken every protective measure possible to ensure my cancer didn’t come back. I wouldn’t want to have second-guessed myself with “If I wouldn’t have done this or that…” had my cancer returned.
Throughout the months of treatment and loss of my hair, my husband Keith gave me his unwavering support. I had one good cry early on and then he kept me laughing after that. We chose to use humor and education to battle this disease. As we look back on that time we knew that we’d beat it, no problem. Not once did either of us think that I could have died from it. One of the toughest aspects was telling our family and friends of my diagnosis. Again, humor played a big part in that. After my recovery, when the subject would come up with anyone, I'd proudly puff out my chest and ask, "Which one do you think is the real one?" I was very fortune to get through all the treatment without much trouble or side effects. I continued to work fulltime in the USAF only taking off the time necessary for my treatments and I went on to retire in 2000 after 20 years of service. The USAF taught me the value of volunteering my time and talents and how each & every one of us can make a difference in our community. In return, your life is enriched by those experiences, plus you’ll make some awesome lifelong friends that I know will be there anytime I need them.
While out of work in 2002, I first volunteered with Komen at the 2002 Race working registration on Race Day. I also began my journey with the American Cancer Society’s Reach to Recovery program where Breast Cancer Survivors visit and speak with newly diagnosed women to relay experiences, help answer their questions & concerns about Breast Cancer, and guide them toward the resources they need to help them on their journey. I continue that work today. From 2003 through today I have helped chair the Sponsorship Committee, raising well over $1 million in cash and in-kind items and services to support the Colorado Springs Affiliate of the Susan G. Komen For the Cure. I’m honored to be the 2007 El Paso Honorary Survivor.
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 Libby Samaras
2007 Pueblo County Honorary Survivor
As an Oncology Nurse, it was an adjustment to be on the receiving side of treatment when I was diagnosed with Breast Cancer in March of 2004. Before my diagnosis, I had always felt privileged to learn from my cancer survivor patients (without having to actually go through the cancer ordeal myself!) My patients were often open and generous with their insights. But during those post-diagnosis nights when I was working on the Oncology Unit with my bald head covered by a scarf, I experienced a truly profound relationship with and support from my patients. I will always cherish those special interactions. They have had a major impact upon my work and my being to this day.
Soon after my diagnosis, I was first introduced to the Colorado Springs Affiliate of the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation when I began working as the Clinical Trials Coordinator for the Dorcy Cancer Center at St. Mary-Corwin Hospital (SMC) in Pueblo, CO. Dr. Ohlsen (the Center’s then Medical Director), invited me to attend the CS Affiliate sponsored grant meeting and asked me to work on SMC’s Lymphedema Program, which was funded by Komen that year. For that program, I developed educational materials for healthcare workers and survivors and was instrumental in institutionalizing the Lymphedema Education Program hospital wide. The following year (2005), I served as Project Director for my own CS Komen Affiliate grant entitled Clinical Trials: A Positive Approach to Minority Recruitment Strategies. I presented the findings from that effort at the 9th National Conference on Cancer Nursing Research held in Hollywood, CA in February, 2007, and an abstract was published in the January 2007 issue of the Oncology Nursing Forum (vol. 34, No1, 2007), which is a peer-reviewed journal of the Oncology Nursing Society. I also serve as SMC’s REGAIN study coordinator. REGAIN stands for Rehabilitation, Exercise, Guided Assistance and INformation for Breast Cancer patients, and is conducted in collaboration with the University of Colorado’s Health Sciences Center and funded by Komen’s national research grant program. Under SMC’s CS Komen Affiliate award for 2006-2007, I helped to realize the vision of a new Comprehensive Breast Health Services/Center for SMC and initiated the role of the Breast Care Coordinator. In addition to all these exciting professional opportunities that are related to Komen and my experience with breast cancer, I also had a wonderful time as the SMC Team Captain for the 2006 Race for the Cure ® . I would like to share the following thoughts on the Race:
“The first year I went (2004), I was profoundly moved by the outpouring to me and other survivors from everyone at the Race. I had just finished my last round of chemo and could barely tolerate the 1K family walk, even with frequent rests. As I saw a pink-shirted contestant cross the 5K finish line that year, I promised myself that I would complete the 5K the following year (2005), which I did. It was a great benchmark for how far I had come in that year and a metaphor for how much the support of the Race helped me to get there personally and professionally. As the SMC Team Captain in 2006, I had a yet another vantage point on the Race – I was able to witness how much it meant to all my fellow team members and to realize that it moved our newly diagnosed team members as much as it had me that first year. I guess I felt like my own capacities and perspective had grown enough that I had some to spare to help them get through it. I think that cycle plays itself out again and again and is a big part of the gift for all of us involved in the Race!”
When I am not wearing pink (and even sometimes when I do), I live on a ranch in Pueblo County with my cosurvivors: my husband George and our son Demetri and assorted horses, goats, dogs, cats, cockatiels, geese, chickens, and a blue-tongued skink.
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