DreamGirl Makers

My first meeting with Louanne Roarke (Vice President, CTFA Foundation) and Lisa Burris (Director, LGFB Field Coordination) of CTFA was at my home-away-from-home or perhaps my new office, the Lombardi Cancer Center at Georgetown. From my many phone conversations with Lisa I knew who she was the moment I saw her in the lobby. Lisa is a sort of greater than life and bigger than the pettiness that sometimes surrounds it, type of person; she is so full of living and energy that you just want to be around her. I cannot help but to have a smile on my face as I write about her. I see that Lisa takes to heart her task to helping thousands of women that are facing the ugly side effects cancer treatment and is a great advocate for all of them. She is hysterical and beautiful. The other day we both saw a woman getting out of her car and as she did she dropped her lipstick, well Lisa and I had a blast with that by being so dramatically aghast and determined to help the woman retrieve her lipstick, Lisa was so funny as we explained to the woman that Lisa worked for the CTFA the woman as only a woman would be, was so grateful and serious about the threat against her lipstick!

Louanne appears to be a supermodel of sorts and when you first see her you’d figure she’d be in the industry somehow, but immediately you are diverted from her striking appearance to her very focused and professional demeanor. Louanne means business about helping women through LGFB and about spreading the word to her CTFA members how important their support is. Last Monday we got together to work on my speaking notes for the ball and she was a natural at speaking, it just flowed from her spontaneously put together and elegant, ughh I was a babbling idiot, I hope to get some more coaching from her before the event.

So anyway, that’s Lisa and Louanne, so far…lot’s more good stuff about them to come. Like our trip to NYC.

What the Heck is a DreamGirl?

As I mentioned before, I attended a Look Good Feel Better, LGFB, session at Georgetown Lombardi Cancer Center, my will to keep up appearances was determined and I was oh so confident that I would be able to do so after attending.

Finally I’m getting around to writing about what started this whole blog and as one may wonder, “What the heck is a DreamGirl?”

An annual fund raising event entitled DreamBall is hosted by the Cosmetics Toiletries Fragrance Association, CTFA, and the American Cancer Society, ACS, to honor and give thanks to the CTFA members who donate money and products to the CTFA foundation program, Look Good Feel Better, (see link to learn more). Well there are three honorees each year two individuals from the CTFA and a LGFB “graduate”...TA DA: ME, aka DREAMGIRL. Funny title, Scott says good thing it’s DreamGirl and DreamBall because this whole BC thing would have named it NightmareGirl and NightmareBall. Anyway, Tara Heery the wonderful woman at Gerogetown who originally suggested I attend the program recommended me to CTFA as this year’s DreamGirl.

Seeing Double

“Make mine a double, no a single, no a double” and we’re not talking espresso shots, I’m talking about my mastectomy. I decided to have a double mastectomy for many reasons. First of all because of the type of cancer I had, a mastectomy was the only option, single or double was the question. Initially I was going to have a double only if my genetic tests concluded that I carried one of the cancer genes BRCA1 or BRCA2, but then all the “what ifs”?

What if those micro-calcifications in my non-cancerous breast become something? What if I’m always afraid? Another 60 years (God willing) of worrying about my other breast in addition to worrying about metastasis. Symmetry?

Finally my wonderful psychiatrist Dr. Lauren Perry asked, “what if there were no genetic tests, what would you do?” Double! Turns out I am not BRCA1 or BRCA2. So with my superb plastic surgeon Dr. Scott Spear and the God sent Dr. Manasseh we planned for my double. I would have immediate reconstruction with tissue expanders, nipple sparing on my left (non-cancer side), the nipple will be used to reconstruct a new nipple on my right side, sort of a two-for-one nipple deal.

My Mom came up for the surgery. We decided to have her stay at my place and I’d stay at Scott’s. This required my Mom who lives in a very small town in Florida to get around DC all on her own and at the time, in the snow! It doesn’t snow in Florida…it was quite an experience for her, she did it though and was great!

During one of my pre-surgery meetings with Dr. Manasseh Scott’s sensitivity and understanding of my great fear of having my hat coming off and waking up from surgery like that, asked Dr. Manasseh to be certain to look out for me. Which she certainly did! Before I walked into the operating room (more like a theater) she leaned over me and secured a surgeons cap over my hat, I can’t even begin to describe how grateful and touched I was by this. I remained in the hospital for four days after my surgery; I spare all the details and just say the people at Georgetown made the best out of a terrible situation.

So for the next few weeks from emptying and removing drains, terrible nightmares caused by the pain medication, the disfigurement in the mirror, the incredible amount of discomfort and pain, it basically sucked.

I’ve not mentioned Scott’s parents yet, but I have a great story to tell. First of all let me say that they are wonderful, or as Scott says, “they’re the better part of the package”. Del and Steve are part of the reason Scott is so wonderful, I love them and feel so fortunate for them. Back to my story, the first time they saw me after my surgery Scott and I played a trick on them. I stuffed my shirt with these small foam pillows that made me look and feel like I was about the cup size of a double Y. As they walked into the house I hugged them both, we could barely get our arms around each other, they were huge! Finally I could not hold it in any longer and Scott and I started laughing and gave away the joke. It was hysterical, Del said she thought to herself, “I’m not going to look, I’m not going to stare” and Steve, said he was thinking, “Holly Cow, how big are they going to get?” It was a great ice breaker for a sensitive subject.

Next stop: radiation and Dr. Moulds. The teams of people working in the dungeon of the radiation halls at Georgetown were fantastic. They were efficient and kind. I was “radiated” everyday for six weeks, (weekends off). The worst part was going everyday single day and the tiredness. Actually, not tired, more like narcolepsy, an overwhelming urge to sleep. It was so unlike the chemo or surgery where of course I felt exhausted, flu like, general malaise, but with radiation sleep was not only necessary but unavoidable.

I had my first CT scan and blood tests since my diagnosis a few weeks ago, thank God they were good. I wonder if I’ll always be so scared each time I’m tested. I’ll continue to see Dr. Liu every three months and Dr. Manasseh too.

Next is my final reconstruction surgery in which Dr. Spear will replace my tissue expanders with permanent implants.

I am no where near the energy levels I was pre BC, but day by day I’m getting better. I still need naps and take them often.

It’s been five months since chemo, four since my mastectomies, two since radiation. No one would know that I have nearly two inches of afro in every color imaginable, or that my skin is undergoing a radical change thanks to hormones, or that I’ve gained nearly ten pounds and have blubber thighs, or that my skin is as pale as milk. I like my wigs, hats, self tanners, great make up, lotions, spa treatments. They’ve played a significant role in my BC treatment, physically and emotionally.

It’s too soon to know the full impact BC will make in my life. Through out it all, yes it sucked, but I always tried to smile and still think life is pretty great. I’ve dealt with this in the best way I could, by being me. I could not let it overcome me. I’ve read people write “Oh cancer was the best thing that happened to me, I now appreciate life so much more…” whatever, it should not take a life threatening experience for anyone to make the most our their life.

There are so many people that made a huge impact and contribution to my well being with their love and support. From a practical stranger in the store to a co-worker of ten years ago (that I really did not get along with) calling me out of the blue to let me know she was praying for me. From Scott’s mother’s friends to his childhood friends. My cousins. My dear Aunt Betty, where do I begin? My sister and I have grown much closer through this, she visited me with my new niece Cameron who I had not had the opportunity to see after my surgery, it was such a wonderful gift. My brother Danny taking time to visit me. I just want everyone to know that it has meant so much to me.

Looking Good and Feeling Better

Two and one half weeks after my first round of chemo my very thick and shoulder length blond hair started thinning dramatically, oh the things we take for granted. I decided to cut my hair cut short and have my wig styled at the same time, Charles and John at the salon were wonderful with me. I hated having short hair, especially when people would say, “oh, you cut all your hair off” or “I like your new haircut”. I hated it, it made me feel vulnerable, look older and just did not suit me at all.

Anyway, it started to fall out big time, there was so much of it, everywhere! My clothes, my pillow, the house, the store and let’s not forget the shower drain, it was like an infomercial for liquid plumber. I didn’t really tell many people about the experience as it was happening, I don’t know why this is, maybe it was just too traumatic, I’m not entirely sure. I remember crying every night in the shower as I washed more and more of it away it was like a B film horror flick scene. I stepped out of the shower and each time more of my scalp would be revealed. Also, it hurts when your hair is falling out, so I was a bit relieved when finally it all went away and I was left with NOTHING but fine little baby blond hairs. It was horrifying to me yet oddly interesting at the same time, truly to this day I look in the mirror with either a sense of amazement by how different I look or I simply laugh at myself in disbelief.

Enter another angel from Georgetown, Tara Heery, Social Case Worker who cares for everyone she comes in contact with. I have a great affection and appreciation for someone like Tara that give selflessly to others, she’s a wonderful person to know on any day, with or without cancer.

Tara, knowing that I was having a lot, and I mean a lot of trouble with the hair loss and the impact chemotherapy was having on my appearance recommended I attend a program founded by The Cosmetics Toiletry and Fragrance Association Foundation, “Look Good, Feel Better” LGFB. I was a bit reluctant to attend, special interest GROUP meetings did not appeal to me at all. I am not a sit around drink the kool-aid sing kum-bay-yah type. All I could imagine was a bunch of sad depressed women sitting around complaining and feeling sorry for themselves. In the end I decided to go, considering it more an interactive makeup session, my fears of a group session would be minimized. Though the great people at my LGFB do offer a one-on-one session if requested.

There I was with about eight other women participating in the session that day, each in varying stages of their cancer treatment from full blown chemo to diagnosed two days prior, all of the women were at least ten years older than me and they all were fabulous! They were upbeat, fun, and though deeply terrified about their cancer all of them had a sort of kick ass attitude about their disease and how they were going to fight it by not letting it take over everything especially the connection they had with themselves. Therefore, the cancer challenge facing us in the mirror (literally) that day was our appearance; the dark eye circles, the pale skin, the steroid acne, the major obvious NO HAIR, the dry skin, the bloating, the unrecognizable.

Hans a local stylist and regular volunteer to the program gave one of the women, she was bald, a makeover using various wigs and scarves. He also went over the entire technique of makeup application, and gave some good pointers for when eyebrows and eyelashes decide to follow chemo’s command and fall out. With Hans’ lead the other ladies and I performed our makeovers with a wonderful collection of items that were donated.

Wait, I must elaborate here on all the products we were given! I was taken aback a bit by receiving such a generous gift and I was amazed by the array of companies that donated their products to the program, everything a woman would need was packaged neatly by skin tone, from eye liner to moisturizer. There were companies whose products I use everyday, I had no idea they were so generous and I am so grateful!

I do believe that some of the women there that day really did need to know how to apply makeup, with or without cancer, but for those women like me (makeup queens) LGFB solidified my resolve to not lose “ME” through BC. For me the program was not about how to put on makeup, I’d known that for years, though I have a greater appreciation for it now, for me it was about maintaining my dignity, poise, self composure; however you want to describe it. I wanted to be as normal as possible. I needed to keep me, be me. I did not want to invite people into my world by my appearance, I did not want to be felt sorry for, gawked at. I did not want my privacy invaded by unsolicited though well intended curious well wishers.

Cancer treatments are so in your face, literally! Every morning and every night I faced the harsh reality of those treatments, but the time in between with hair and makeup I could be me, I did not have to succumb to my treatment’s merciless evil whims. What are looks after all some might ask? And maybe in the end they’re not so important, but for now as I am a single young woman full of life and energy the way I look says a lot TO ME about the way I FEEL. I don’t want to be taken the wrong way, do I wish I could “be bald be free”, or “bald is beautiful”? Maybe, but I don’t think that suits me. I commend those women that can let it all out, or as I’ve heard described, “wear their cancer badge of courage for all to bear witness to”. Not me. Just like for many women no way would they think about wearing a wig or makeup.

By early September I was getting ready for my 3rd chemo and at this point I was having a love hate relationship with my wig, loved it because it let me lead a “normal” life, hated it for all that it represented, it was just wrong. I have worn a hat every single day since then over my wig. It was too obvious to me that it was a wig, I was paranoid as hell that it would shift and I would like a crazy woman. So now I have about two hundred hats! Speaking of hats, ok great in the day time; winter berets, summer straw hats, and the old faithful baseball caps, but try finding a hat to go with evening attire…a whole new problem emerges. Nonetheless, no one ever knew that it was not my hair, or at least that’s what I thought.

During the first five months of my chemotherapy I continued to work, this was good and bad. Good in that it kept things “normal” and the had the support of my very caring customers. Bad in that it wore me out, my blood counts were very low leaving me susceptible to all sorts of infections, and perhaps I gave people, especially my superiors, the wrong impression. What I mean is that because I was working so much, our store was successful and I didn’t look sick, they didn’t take my illness seriously. This proved to be a great challenge with my employer and I caution everyone that may be facing a similar situation, be sure they get it. My company just did not understand what I was going through and they were not supportive at all. This of course is very hurtful and frustrating.

Finally my last chemo came in January 05, all in all I have to say that my chemotherapy experience was ok, relatively speaking, it certainly could have been worse. Yes, there were terrible, terrible days, days I felt I couldn’t take it anymore, but looking back now I feel grateful that it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Dr. Liu did a great job working on my medications to ensure I was as comfortable as possible through out my six months of chemo. Having Scott by my side made it more bearable, again he was there for every single chemo and some of those days were eight hours at the hospital.

The Treatment Begins! (or Damn the Chemo. . .Full Speed Ahead!)

Welcome to Georgetown University Hospital, Lombardi Comprehensive Cancer Clinic, my home away from home.

Enter the too numerous to mention wonderful people that make up the campus who made such a tremendous difference.

Dr. Minetta Liu my oncologist and Dr. Donna Marie Manasseh, my breast surgeon. Two very different yet equally amazing women to whom I will forever be deeply and emotionally grateful for.

Scott and I went to see the vivacious and dynamic Dr. Manasseh first who performed the obligatory biopsy, I will not lie, the biopsy was extremely painful, it sounded like a large drywall stapler each time a sample was cut. I was nice enough to allow 4 more of these biopsies to be performed for a clinical trial, but the deal was I had to have at least four lidocaine shots before they took the samples. All in the name of science.

Clinical trials are very important to get the answers we need in order to someday beat many diseases. At first I was put off by the idea of a clinical trial because I was uninformed, imagining a guinea pig in a cage with scientist probing and prodding. There can be benefits to the patient sometimes to receive some of the latest therapies as well. Think about this, every treatment out there from Neosporin to the most complicated cancer treatments have gone through clinical trials.

My pathology report came back in a language foreign to me, Stage III ductal invasive carcinoma, but for the rest of us that means, “oh shit”. Scott and I went to see Dr. Liu my oncologist who is very demure and soft spoken but known for never giving up on her patients, she was going to start me straight away on my 6 month regimen of chemotherapy beginning with 4 rounds of Taxol and 4 rounds of AC. I waited a week to start chemo in order to suppress my ovaries with a Depot Lupron injection in hopes that they would be salvageable after the chemo was finished with them.

Ovaries to Sleep The appointment with Dr. Jairoh Garcia a reproduction specialist at Johns Hopkins proved to be a sure sign of things to come. First, how wonderfully kind people can be, the compassion that Dr. Garcia showed me was overwhelming, I look forward to seeing him again soon. Secondly, was the amount of money this was going to require became apparent on this day, the first of tens of thousands of dollars worth of prescriptions and doctors bill. To save time, while I was getting my blood drawn Scott ran over to the pharmacy to pick up the Depot Lupron injection. He returned with a dismayed look on his face, handed me the injection and whispered, wow seven hundred dollars!

So 20 days after that terrible mammogram I had my first chemotherapy treatment.
I feel like I am at a loss to describe in words the impact Scott has made to my life. As my tireless advocate and partner he was by my side at every single appointment, every single chemo treatment, calling doctors, researching, keeping my schedule straight, pharmacy trips and so much more in addition to being a great boyfriend. All my doctors know him. I often joke that I need to carry a bat with us when we go to the hospital because all the women just LOVE him. And they only had a glimpse of him within the walls of Georgetown, what about the rest of the time? I can tell you, he was just being himself the same as he is always; giving, loving, caring, supportive, understanding…all those words that seem so inadequate but necessary I suppose to describe him.

Another great thing is that Scott and I could laugh about things, make jokes about BC. Tisk tisk I know shame on us. If I was stressing and I could say to him, “don’t make me wig out” or when I was trying to get my way with something I’d say in a ridiculously whinny little girl voice, “but I’m sick” and let’s not even go to the jokes of what size my “new breasts” should be. Having a sense of humor helped us tremendously. Laughing at what is obviously painful may be offensive to some and rightly so, certainly there are lines that must be cautiously approached or not crossed at all with some.

The absolute worst part of chemotherapy for me was and still is how it affected my appearance. Am I vain? Yes Will my sister tell you that I don’t miss a chance to look in the mirror? Yes Could I open my own beauty supply/spa shop with all my products? Yes OK, it’s true my looks are very important to me they always have been. But never did I imagine the role my appearance would take when it was suddenly annihilated by chemotherapy. Let’s face it we’ve all seen “those people”, hairless, pale, dark circles under their eyes, generally sick looking. Unbelievable but true story, driving with my boyfriend out to the eastern shore one day to practice shooting some sporting clays I was looking in the mirror, this was just before chemo had gotten it’s grip on my looks, I said to him, “I am not going to look like one of those people”, he replied with a wise smile, “you are one of those people” then we laughed, I probably cried a little too.

My mother came up from Florida and met Dr. Manasseh and Dr. Liu, it was important for this to happen. She needed to meet them, become familiar with the surroundings of Georgetown, know that I was in good hands. She actually wanted to hold my surgeon’s hands in her own, I know when she did this she must have said a little prayer. Oh the strength my mother showed, I hate this for her. The best and worst part of her visit was when we got my wig. We laughed and cried at the same time, made stupid faces with the wigs on, really neither of us could believe what we were going through. It all just seemed so unreal, are you kidding me a wig?

Confirmation

One Thursday night as I got out of the shower I started crying as I shared my concerns with Scott, we both agreed no more “waiting to see if it will change”, it was time for a doctor’s visit. Of course since I had recently moved to the area and was in such great health (yeah right) I did not have local doctors yet, I called my gynecologist in Atlanta, Dr. Anne Wiskind. She recommended I immediately get a baseline mammogram.

This was Friday afternoon; my district manager, auditors and accountant were at the store as our first inventory was taking place the following two days. In the retail world, inventory is a very hectic time, we’ve all seen stores “closed for inventory”, you bet they’re closed; every single item in the store must be accounted for, this requires endless organization and preparation. Also, inventory results are a big indicator as to how well a store is managed. I called Scott and told him that I was trying to find a breast center of sorts to run out and get a mammogram; I was looking for a quick lunch time mammography service. Scott would have none of that and made an urgent request to one of his favorite and best doctors.

Enter Dr. David Shocket, he kindly agreed to see me and refer me to the Washington Hospital Center for Breast Health for my first mammogram that day. Scott picked me up at the store as we drove across town my stomach was in knots.

Getting the mammogram was a bit discomforting, I had small breasts they barely fit on the machine, the mammographer was so nice to me. I was trying to be strong, smile, laugh and tell jokes as I always do, but to her I’m sure I looked like a deer in the headlights. After the mammogram they immediately performed an ultrasound on the breast and lymph nodes, I also can recall the kindness of the technician, and talking about her son’s first camping trip. I tried to chit chat through my fear. As she moved the wand over my lymph nodes I nervously asked what she saw she could only tactfully say, “…an area of concern”.

Enter Dr. Anna Choi, Medical Director, Radiology. She showed me my tumor, my four enlarged lymph nodes and said these words to me, “Kristen, you’re going to have to make a lot of decisions in the next few weeks”. I stood there nodding my head smiling and saying ok, thank you very much, I know, I know, I know. A biopsy was mentioned as merely a confirmation of what we both already knew. I dressed and walked out trying to look pulled together, ha! The front office was empty, everyone had gone home for the day, but Dr. Choi and the technician had stayed late that day to tell me I had breast cancer.

I had not seen Scott or Dr. Shocket for what I think had been about two hours when I walked out of the Center and into the hospital hall. There they were Scott and Dr. Shocket standing there about a mile away it seemed, Scott had his bottom lip tucked under with his sweet gentle eyes looking my way, Dr. Shocket comforting, they knew too. I was smiling through my tears trying my hardest to be pleasant and appreciative of Dr. Shocket, he offered his help, asking if I needed a sedative to get me through the weekend, I politely declined. I shook his hand as I backed away towards the exit, smiling all the while saying I’d be ok. This posturing would later become almost anecdotally described as my “2nd runner up in the Miss America pageant”, … “what I didn’t win, those damn cameras are in my face, national television, expletive, expletive, expletive I’m supposed to be nice right now and smile, be grateful”. But really that’s me and that’s probably the biggest part of me that has helped me get through this. Smile, laugh, keep up appearances and be kind, as often as I could manage.

Driving home with Scott I was having one of those silent gut wrenching tight fisted writhing cries, sounds pretty dramatic I know, but it was. It was late Friday afternoon, it was hot and traffic was heavy. As we crawled through the traffic I remember a female police officer who driving in front of us, stopped her car and came to tap on Scott’s window and ask if I was ok, Scott told her, bad news from the doctor. Scott was quiet yet somehow strong and comforting to me.

During those hours that I contemplated how I would tell my mother, I imagined that I would tell Harry her husband first so that he could be with her when I told her my news. That was my big perfect plan. They were vacationing at the beach and my sister Jennifer and her family were there as well. Jennifer answered the phone; I asked to speak with Harry she told me he was on the beach, so much for my great plan, so I asked for my mother. Why didn’t I tell my sister, because I needed to tell my mother. I lost it when I heard my mother’s voice, I told her everything, and she tried in vain to reassuringly say that we should wait until the biopsy also that she would come right away. I probably talked to her five more times that night; she was being so strong for me though I know she was crushed.

I called my district manager (boss) and told him the news of my mammogram was not good and that I would not be returning that evening to work. Fortunately, we were ready to go for the inventory the next day at 7:00am I told him I would see him then. The following day I worked from 7:00am till who knows when and returned on Sunday to finish inventory and be the first store in our company history to open on the same day as inventory. Our inventory numbers were great.

Imagine my poor boyfriend; he’s dating some girl for five months and boom, breast cancer! Grant it they were five blissful months but really isn’t that asking too much from a young single person these days? Heck there are married couples that don’t have support from one another like Scott and I have. Scott tells me he thought about it for one second and decided he was going to stick with me through it all, that I was worth it. Let me tell you, when he said he was going to be by my side through all this he meant it, literally.

Scott was so sweet and understood that we were dealing with something very bad, though no one seemed to really want to deal with it until the biopsy, wishful thinking is not what I need, I needed cold hard facts. What are we dealing with? At this point it all seemed so unreal, I was not close to thinking about all the fun that was in store for me: biopsies, chemotherapy, mastectomies, radiation, sickness, hair loss, looking horrible, bloating, menopause, acne, all sorts of bathroom issues, breast reconstruction, lethargy, pain, arthritis …oh let me stop , I’m giving away too much of the good stuff.

A DreamGirl is Born!

Where do I begin with my breast cancer story? Unfortunately there are too many breast cancer stories, and those stories are increasingly being told by younger women like me, I was diagnosed almost a year ago at 34.

First let me start by saying that I cannot believe I’m writing this; it is so hard to accept that I was bald and still have virtually no hair and, oh my gosh, I wear a wig ack! Or that I don’t have either of my breasts, that I did the chemo-radiation thing, oh and that I’ve been through menopause??? Or how strange it is that just two weeks before my diagnosis my friend Tom and I were talking about the loss of one of his 30 something year old friends to cancer and how crazy it was that all these young people were getting cancer, himself included. Don’t get me wrong, I am very much a realist and have always been with regards to my breast cancer, it is just so surreal. Before BC, (“BC” interesting because if you’re diagnosed with BC BC you may be AD after BC, get it? At the very least a heightened sense of one’s spirituality hopefully. Life takes on a different meaning but so does death when facing a killer disease.)

So before BC, specifically July16th 2004 to be exact (people never forget their diagnosis date) I moved to the DC area nine months earlier from Atlanta to open and manage a new retail store. Not just any retail store, but one that captured my love of fly fishing and passion for the outdoors. I was in financial services for as long as I can remember and when the time came to make a move I made a list of the things I enjoyed at the time which included fly fishing, wine, gardening, to name a few and decided to pursue a career in one of those areas. As it turned out I was a pretty good customer of my now employer and was hired as seasonal part time help making barely minimum wage and I LOVED IT!

Fast track 10 months later and I have my own store! Managing a successful new retail store required a tremendous amount of time and energy, I would walk nearly 8 miles a day on the sales floor my pedometer would report and would often times put in more than 60 hours a week, I was quite busy with little time for anything else. I loved my job, the customers were great, there was a genuine neighborhood feeling, from the customers who would bring in their dogs, to the other stores in the area, I really got to know and care for so many people through my community. Our sales continued to increase and we were making a name for ourselves.

Meanwhile, I met Scott, (ahhh insert hearts and smiley faces). He’s a former top aide to the House Republican leadership in Congress, now he is a lobbyist running his own firm and doing great things for his clients. Scott asked me out very casually several times and I was always too busy until one day we just happened to be talking on the phone and I mentioned that I needed to come downtown that evening. Scott suggested that I meet him for dinner which I finally did. I remember that evening so vividly, “this guy can’t stand me!” I thought to myself. Scott has a very witty sense of humor and is quite the serious type so when he told me I was obnoxious or, “this is where I make my exit” when I went to the ladies room, (I really thought he was not going to be there when I returned) I was not imagining another date.

Curiously enough though our friendship grew, we were so relaxed together, laughed at the same things, and had so many similar ideas, “just friends” though. That is up until we shared a baked Alaska at a downtown restaurant one evening. After dessert Scott dropped me off at home and as I was getting out of the car I looked at him and paused, I knew that I wanted to kiss him, but I didn’t. Oh don’t fear that I was too timid, not me, for the next day I called Scott and told him straight out that I had wanted to kiss him the night before. It was really quite unexpected I suppose, though he maintains “I knew you wanted me”. We’ve been inseparable since.

With regards to my breast cancer, a big relationship “BY THE WAY” we were only dating five months when I was diagnosed.

I felt a lump in my right breast, I could move it under the skin and it was about the size of a grape. I thought that the lump was due to my monthly cycle so I decided to watch it. I was falling in love, running the store, started horseback riding lessons, things were great. About two months later on a Tuesday checking the lump and I was feeling my underarms, actually checking to see if I needed to shave and felt several of the glands were swollen, hmmm? These were new; the lumps were actually very large, I could see one of them in the mirror just above my bra under my arm. Off to the internet I went and what I found was not promising, believe it or not, I knew.

I stayed up the next two nights crying and afraid, the strangest thing is I knew it was cancer, how or why I cannot say for certain, but I knew. Most of what kept me up that Tuesday and Wednesday night repeating over and over in my mind was the question, “How am I going to tell my mother?” To this day, the pain and fear I feel for my mother through this whole ordeal is far greater than any I have had for myself.

My Mom lives in Florida and we’re very close and talk nearly every day. My mother’s mother was diagnosed with breast cancer at a very young age and ultimately passed away because of it. I was raised in a household with angst towards cancer that could nearly equal the wrath of God. My mother had suffered her greatest loss at it hands, how could she endure the possible same fate for her daughter.