5My Health Story
How a single mom took on the odds — and beat breast cancer
By Amy P., 44, Keller, Texas (on right, pictured with her daughter)
A few weeks before Christmas 2001, I noticed that one of my breasts was getting red and growing in size. My doctor said it was an infection and put me on a two-week course of antibiotics, which didn’t quell the itching, redness and increasing size of my breast. A mammogram was necessary — and right away.
Four days before Christmas isn’t an easy time to get an emergency mammogram appointment, but somehow I managed to schedule it. I also had a sonogram at the radiologist’s request. When the radiologist came into the room after completing both tests, his words stung. “I am not supposed to tell you this,” he said, “but I am 99% sure you have inflammatory breast cancer.” In the following days, I learned that like others in my family, I have the BRCA2 gene, which makes me genetically predisposed to a higher risk of developing breast cancer.
Without taking time to digest the news that I had a very aggressive cancer, I went on autopilot. I called my parents to break the news and then called my family doctor, who tried to get me an emergency appointment with a surgeon during the holidays. There was no time to cry. I could only focus on such things as being 37 and a single mother of a nine-year-old daughter. And there was the fact that I had always been healthy, which made being so sick seem unimaginable.
Later that day, with the help of my parents, I told my daughter I had cancer. I also assured her I’d survive — that I planned to be one of the 2,400 people diagnosed each year who live more than five years following the diagnosis of inflammatory breast cancer.
When I met with my doctors, they recommended four rounds of chemotherapy, surgery, four more rounds of chemotherapy, then six weeks of daily radiation. My plan was prayer, laughter and a positive attitude. On my worst chemo days, I thought, I wouldn’t give up, fighting to stay alive and hopeful.
Another part of my plan was asking for help. Before I was diagnosed with breast cancer, I was familiar with the role of caregiver — I had spent a lot of time caring for family and friends. Now others had to care for me, which felt very strange.
After the first round of chemo, making it through seven more rounds seemed insurmountable. But the biggest obstacle came two days before my surgery and after four rounds of chemo. My insurance company said it was canceling my insurance because I had carried coverage for only 33 days when I was diagnosed. That’s when I cried. I didn’t know what to do. Fortunately, an attorney stepped in, and my insurance wasn’t canceled.
Rallying to help take care of my daughter, drive me to doctor appointments and make meals, my friends and family got me through this chapter in my life. Keeping a sense of humor — another part of my plan — was crucial. I joked about losing my hair and not having eyebrows. My motto for going out was “You know you had a good time when your bandanna isn’t straight and you’ve got only one eyebrow still drawn on when you get home.”
Eventually, my hair and eyebrows came back but, thankfully, my cancer didn’t. I’m grateful to have beaten seemingly insurmountable odds given the type of cancer I faced. Today, I’m still working my plan. I still pray and rely on family for support. And I never forget to laugh
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