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Just when I thought it was safe...
Contributed by: Jean Fischer on 9/26/2007

As the Race for the Cure approaches, I reflect on the past two years and how quickly and alarmingly life can change.

In March 2005, I had just turned 37, was finally fit and strong after two huge spinal fusions within one year of each other, had a wonderful new man in my life, my career was flourishing, and then WHAM!

Just like that, on St. Patrick's Day came the horrible diagnosis. Stage 2 metastatic breast cancer, which had wandered into my lymph nodes and even outside of the sentinel nodes they cut out of my left armpit.

No family history of any cancer of any kind, no warning, even an "all clear" from the mammogram I'd had done just three months earlier. This tumor grew with unprecedented speed and aggression. I was, and still am, lucky enough to have a tremendous support team of my parents (also Evergreen residents) friends, colleagues, and dogs, all of whom helped me get through the absurdly painful surgery and recovery (I'm an expert at big operations, having had eight of them before the cancer!) and the ensuing thrills and chills of determining the best course of treatment.

37 is young according to the statistics, but breast cancer does not care about such things. My wonderful oncologist, Catharine Azar, refused to give me percentages of recovery and/or fatality, and did not have to ask twice if I would participate in one of many huge breast cancer treatment studies.

Being a licensed marriage and family therapist, I know the importance of studies, and felt strongly that no matter what the outcome of my disease, I could potentially help others. I took part in the study, and the protocol I was given was a doozy.

Significantly stronger chemotherapy and radiation than is typically used for women my age and with my type of breast cancer began in April 2005.

Every other Friday my mother and I trekked down to the Franklin Building for the three hours of chemo, and that was really the only work I missed! I continued seeing my private practice clients and working part time for a local psychiatrist.

Everyone was so supportive, all over the country, but especially here in Evergreen. I refused to cover my bald head with a wig, hat, or scarf, although I had two beautiful wigs given to me by a dear friend and my favorite hairdresser (she continues to cut my now below-the-shoulder-length hair!).

I worked all through the chemotherapy, not missing a beat. Then came the 36 daily radiation treatments. Wow. That really slammed into me like a truck. I felt each and every second of zapping, was exhausted in a way I'd never before experienced, and by the third week had pretty horrible oozing burns on the two sites they were treating.

Driving the hour down to St. Joe's, getting zapped for 20 seconds, then driving back an hour Monday through Friday was no treat, other than for the wonderful radiation techs Julie and Jean who laughed along with me throughout.

Luckily it was during a beautiful autumn in our lovely state, so I was able to wear tops that did not touch the painful sores. By the end of October I was finally finished with that part of the treatment.

I continue to take Tamoxifen daily to decrease the chances of a recurrence and check in with my oncologist every six months.

Everyone tells you that you will feel "fine" emotionally when you are in treatment, but that there is a crashing fear that grips you when treatment is over and you get back to your normal, pre-cancer routine.

That doesn't really prepare one for the crash. Even as a mental health professional, no amount of preparation was enough. Rational thought and emotion are two entirely differing processes, and I am so thankful that I had access to such wonderful support throughout the community and the country.

The terror that gripped me every day after I completed the treatment was at times simply paralyzing. I felt that because I wasn't actively attacking the cancer that had been in my body, it must be lurking somewhere inside of me. It was just waiting until I let my guard down and began to plan my future, live my life and stop being a breast cancer survivor that it would rear its ugly self and everything good would slam to a halt again.

With every six-month check up (all of them clear so far!) that terror diminishes a little more. As I approach my official two years cancer-free mark in December, (and my 40th birthday in March) I am thankful for every day, every person, every thing that my life is.

I do not define myself as a breast cancer survivor, but I am one. I am also a therapist, daughter, friend, artist, mom to my furry children and lover of life.

So many of my plans for life and dreams have come true, and many nightmares I'd not planned for have slowed me down, too. All of them are speed bumps that may slow my progress, but they don't stop me or other women I know. With the support of our communities (big and small), we get through each day just like everyone else, just maybe a little more thankful for all of it.


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Showing 1 of 1 comments
Submitted By: Peggy Eggers
posted on 9/28/2007 @ 7:11:34 AM
Rated Story
What a great story of survival, support and perseverence. Kudos to Jean for her attitude in the face of her own mortality.
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CONTRIBUTOR INFORMATION

Jean Fischer

Evergreen , CO

Jean Fischer has posted 1 story and 0 comments since joining on 9/26/2007. Jean Fischer 's average story rating is 5.
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