Date: Tue, 22 Feb 2000 23:18:56 EST

At the age of 19, in February 1997, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I was away in school in New York at the time, and I flew home to Atlanta the same day I got the pathology report. Before I even left NY I had an appointment to see my oncologist upon my return. You probably wonder why I had an oncologist. Well, this was my second primary cancer. At the age of 9, I was diagnosed with soft tissue sarcoma, a very rare muscle cancer, of the right thigh. There is a story in this as well, really an even greater one, as the cancer later metasticized to the lungs. After chemotherapy, surgery and radiation, the cancer continued to grow in my lungs, and my doctors thought I was going to die. But, the Creator had another plan in mind.

Although I had some 400 tumors in my lungs, yes 400, when I returned to the clinic to receive the results of my CT Scan, my doctor told me that the tumors had disappeared! They didn't know what happened. I wasn't on any medication at all. I continued to visit my doctor at least twice a year from that point on.

Now, back to the breast cancer. Of course now that I look back on it, there were signs along the way. But, by the time they found the cancer, there was a 2-inch tumor in my right breast and cancer in the ducts of my left breast. In March 1997, I had bilateral mastectomies with simultaneous TRAM flap reconstruction. There were 5 lymph nodes in my right arm that were positive for cancer.

There is much that I can say about what happened next, but I'll just say that I went through chemotherapy, TAXOL, and lost my hair once again, and this time, instead of losing weight as I had when I was a child, I gained 20 lbs. Although my doctor thought it best that I go through another round of chemo, I was physically and emotionally drained and chose not to. She then suggested tamoxifen, as I was surprisingly estrogen receptor positive, and I said yes -- then no. This was around August/Sept. 1997.

Around January 1998, I had an increase in symptoms, including fatigue and pain. Although I KNEW something was wrong, my doctors kept suggesting I see a psychiatrist to treat depression, because they didn't know what was wrong. Now, I was VERY depressed, but I knew something else was going on, just as I had before. One night, around 3am, I called my mother in tears telling her that something was wrong. This time, I think she accepted the responsibility of making my doctors see what they had refused to see.

They began a series of tests that led to a discovery of breast cancer in the bone, in my sternum to be exact -- the sight of my childhood surgery to remove the tumors from my lungs.

Around the summer of 1998, I finally began tamoxifen. The longer I was on it, the more depressed I became. In short, it was sending me into menopause. I felt like dying. Not like killing myself, but just like going to sleep and never waking up. I had never felt that way before in my life.

After visiting my gynecologist who was monitoring me for cancer of the uterus, a small possible side effect of tamoxifen, I made an unannounced decision to stop taking the tamoxifen. On that day, Feb. 4, I had a uterine biopsy performed that just made me realize that I did not want to go on like that any longer. About two weeks later, I told my parents, and then my doctors, that I hadn't been taking the tamoxifen. I didn't tell them previously because I didn't want them to constantly be wondering what was going to happen. I didn't want to be asked everyday, "So, how are you feeling now that you're not taking the tamoxifen?" I wanted to see if I would improve -- to see if in fact the tamoxifen was causing my 'mental demise' and if not, I would consider resuming it (although the possibility of a hysterectomy probably would have prevented that -- I want to have children, almost desparately).

And improve I did. Almost immediately, I felt like I could continue with my life. Since the diagnosis, I had tried to go to school again in Atlanta, and because I was so symptomatic, I had to withdraw. I had been able to take a couple of classes, but it wasn't until summer, 1999 that I completed a full-time semester at Georgia State University.

Now, I know you asked for a breast cancer 'survivor' story. As far as I know, there is still breast cancer in my bone as I write. But, and I know this may sound trite, everyday is a day of survival. There are some days that all I want to do is sleep. There are some days I can do everything but sleep, but I'm HERE, and I don't just want to roll over and let the BIG C take over. I am, by God's grace, continuing with my life, making plans for the future, and currently, registering for classes for the fall semester -- full time.

This has been a time of many learned lessons, and I am thankful for them all.

Reprinted with permission from: