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by Dawn Amour"BREAST CANCER"
I don't know of any two words that strike more fear in a woman's heart. I know they did mine. And they are two words that were to change my life forever.
As I look back to that time, I remember thinking it all had to be some horrible dream. One day I was this perfectly healthy woman, the next I had breast cancer, not only in both of my breasts, but my pelvic bone, my ribs, and my liver.
I'm the youngest of three daughters and therefore the baby of the family. My mother and I have always been very close. I can only imagine the terror that went through my mother's heart at the discovery of my cancer.
I remember going to see Mom after my first consultation with my oncologist to let her know what the doctor had said. She burst into tears and cried, "I was so afraid you were going to tell me that you only had three months to live". I was shocked. The idea had never entered my mind. But it had hers.
Explaining my cancer to my children was hard. Just how much could I expect a 3 and 6 year old to understand? Colin, my youngest was just too young to comprehend what was going on. To Philip, my oldest, we told him of the bad cells that were growing in Mommy's body and that I would have to go to the hospital for medicine to get rid of the bad cells. I remember his reply "Why couldn't we just turn Mommy upside down and shake the bad cells out of her?" Bungy jumping therapy.
At the beginning the phone never stopped ringing and I didn't mind talking to others about my cancer. I figured you can either live your life with cancer in the closet or you can live it in a fish bowl. I chose the latter. If I started to go belly up, I sure wanted someone to notice and throw in some food.
On a friend's advice I started a journal which I initially titled "Diary of a Crazy Cancer Patient". But I soon scratched out "Patient" and wrote "Survivor". I was determined that this cancer was not going to beat me. As far as I was concerned it was toast. Because of the words of a song I heard just after my diagnosis I took the eagle as my healing symbol.
Before my first chemo I had my long hair cut into almost a buzz cut, with an eagle shape cut into the back area and a rat tail hanging down. I was determined to have some control over my hair loss. For me it was like putting on war paint or a suit of armour before going into battle. Because that was exactly what I was doing-- going into battle. Needless to say I was the funkiest mom on the street.
I decided that very early that I was going to take an active part in my treatment. I got a second opinion, I read all about the drugs that were being administered to me and knew their names by heart.
My treatment nurse, Leona was always amazed with my husband and me. He would come in with his folders of questions or news of a new study that he had read about on the Internet. I would walk in, expose my arm and say, "OK, Leona, let's do it." She said she never met anyone who looked forward to their chemotherapy like I did. The way I saw at it, I was at war with my cancer, and the chemicals were the troops that would search out and destroy the enemy.
After my hair started to fall out I shaved my head. My poor husband, I used his razor. With the help of my best friend I bought a wig. Just imagine me with blonde shoulder length hair. Marilyn Monroe the second. When I first wore it my eldest son said that I looked really neat. But it was my youngest that said, "You don't look like my Mommy. Could you please take that off?" I told him I better keep it on for a little bit so that we both could get used to it.
And it took me a while. Sometimes I would forget to put it on. One morning I went to water my plants on my back porch - no wig. Boy, was I glad I have big trees in my back yard.
Another day when visiting my mom it was so hot I took off my wig. When I left to go home I was almost to the car before I realized that I had left my wig inside on her couch. Boy, did we have a good laugh after that one.
I know that my sense of humour has helped me a lot through it all. After my needle biopsy I joked about writing my breast's biography, titled, "My Life as a Sex Object, Milk Truck, and Pin Cushion." I actually discovered there are advantages to chemotherapy. You only need one towel when you shower and boy, do you save on shampoo and conditioner. I remember one morning when my hair was just short and fuzzy, pulling up my husband's pajama top and giving him a head burn (if any of you women here who have ever had a whisker burn from your man, you can imagine how happy I felt to get him back).
At the beginning of September last year, my oncologist, my husband and I got together to discuss going to Edmonton, Alberta, to take part in a clinical trial using High Dosage Chemotherapy (HDC). Before my next chemo I was to have to tube, better known as a Hickman line surgically put into my neck. I was to give myself hormone injections to increase the production of stem cells, or immature white blood cells in my body. At the end of the month I was to fly to Edmonton to have these cells harvested and frozen and to consult with the oncologist there at the Cross Cancer Institute, and to sign all the necessary documents. Larger dosages of one of the drugs that I had been receiving was suggested for me following chemo treatments was well as more hormone injections after I came back.
When I returned to Edmonton in November I was to receive the HDC for three days, followed by a two-day rest and then a transfusion of my thawed stem cells. After that I was to be in isolation for up to two weeks until my white blood count was back up. Then I would be allowed to go home. The whole procedure would be about a month.
This decision was the hardest I ever have ever had to make. Not only did I have to consider the harsh treatment I would be undertaking (two women had died from it) but also as a mother I was concerned about who would take care of my children. But after looking at the situation I really didn't have a choice. I was told that if I didn't go and continued with regular chemo, there was a 50/50 chance of my cancer returning, that they probably couldn't use any more chemo on me, and that in 18-24 months I would probably be dead. Well, I don't know about you, but I felt that option sucked. So if I wanted to live I had to go to Edmonton.
So we returned home and made our plans. My mom had two weeks of vacation and was able to arrange a two-week leave of absence to stay with my kids. My husband made arrangements to work out of his company's Edmonton office. The soccer coach would take Phil to games and practices. Friends promised to call and take the kid's off my mom's hands once in a while. I collected pictures of my family to take with me. I wasn't leaving home without them.
So at the beginning of November I flew to Edmonton and the adventure began. I won't fill you in with all the gory details of the treatment but let's say that it was no picnic. When I arrived home a month later I felt like the wounded soldier returning from battle. I had lost 20 lbs. And was so weak that I had to be wheel-chaired to and from the plane.
My children were excited to see me to say the least. Philip said that I was never ever to go to Edmonton again. I was happy to agree. On the whole I must say that my children have gone through this with flying colours.
I was told that I might take up to a year to be fully recovered from my treatment. But every day I felt myself becoming stronger and by Christmas I was almost back to my old self. Energy-wise, that is. I still had no hair and with the HDC my eyebrows and eyelashes were gone as well.
But it was good to be back home with my family. Since this all began both my sisters have been very supportive. They came to see me in Edmonton when I was there. My middle sister Dale has made a quilt panel for the Quilt for Life. I had the pleasure of seeing it last Sunday. At the bottom left corner was the square she made. It had a broken heart on it with some tears.
One thing that has kept me strong through it all has been my faith. I am a Christian and belong to an Anglican Church. The support we received from my church was phenomenal. Chocolate chip cookies and casseroles came in regularly. One lady gave me a teddy bear wearing a vest covered with coloured ribbons, each ribbon representing a person who was praying for me. Parishioners gathered at my home before each of my chemo treatments to pray and lay hands on me. And when I was away in Edmonton someone was praying for me every day while I was gone. There were so many cards and letters of support sent to me that the bulletin board in my room was covered and we had to tape the others to the curtains.
Many people have asked me how having my cancer has changed me and the way I live my life. I'm a much stronger person now than I was ever before. I know what is important to me and what isn't. I know what I want out of my life and am doing everything in my power to attain it.
I've discovered that life is really too short and (I'm sorry to sound a beer commercial) "you have to grab all the gusto you can". When my mouth says "Oh no, I couldn't do that", that little voice inside me says "Maybe I could". I listen to that little voice.
Last month, I went on a short vacation with my two girlfriends. I did a form of bungy jumping and I'm so glad that I did. It was one of the most awesome experiences I've had in a long time. And I wouldn't have missed it for the world. You can't let life's chances pass you by as they may not come around again.
In the past few weeks I have taken part in two walks for Breast Cancer Research here in Vancouver, British, Columbia. On those days I wore three things. I wore a baseball cap that was given to me this year on my 40th birthday. On it is written "Dawn Cincit Omnia". In Latin it means, "Dawn overcomes all", I also wore a ribbon attached to my T-shirt. On it were three names - Julia Broderick, Nellie Hutchison and Marianne Forsythe. These were three women who I have had the pleasure of knowing since I was diagnosed. Two of them were mothers, all of them younger than me. And all three have died this year of breast cancer. Please, join me in the fight against Breast Cancer. I don't want to write any more names on that ribbon.
I would like to thank you at this time for allowing me to share my story with you. I've had a lot of good cries looking back over this last year and a half, but they have been both cries of healing and cries of thanksgiving.
If you are looking for a deeply satisfying relationship with God, I encourage you to pray by faith and ask the Holy Spirit to fill you. If you are a believer in Jesus Christ, God has given you His Holy Spirit to help you live life according to His perfect plan. Why not pray this simple prayer and by faith invite Him to fill you with His Spirit:
Dear Father, I need you. I acknowledge that I have sinned against you by directing my own life. I thank You that You have forgiven my sins through Christ's death on the cross for me. I now invite Christ to again take His place on the throne of my life. Fill me with the Holy Spirit as You commanded me to be filled, and as You promised in Your Word that You would do if I asked in faith. I pray this in the name of Jesus. As an expression of my faith, I thank You for directing my life and for filling me with the Holy Spirit. Amen.
If you prayed this prayer, we at Retirement With a Purpose would love to hear about it!
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