Another 9/11 Story for #BreastCancerAwareness

by Kim D.

Several weeks ago, one of my close friends told me she had breast cancer, a diagnosis she has been dreading since her mother and younger sister had both been diagnosed and fought their battles. At this point, all she knows is that they have found two tumors and they are early stage but invasive. One doctor says surgery and radiation and another agrees, provided she end treatment with chemotherapy. Her mother's breast cancer was localized, easily treated, and she has been cancer-free for over five years. Her sister was not as lucky, and after two years of fighting this disease, her prognosis is terminal and she isn't expected to live more than six months.

While dealing with her sister's final treatments which are only meant to give her slightly more time and reduce pain, my friend is in the treatment decision making phase to plot her battle and defeat of breast cancer. She has so many questions and feels so out of control. I can relate - not having gone through anything similar, I feel out of control and helpless to do anything other than listen.

However, over the weekend I remembered my mother telling me about a young woman from my hometown in South Carolina who blogged about her breast cancer experience. I found the blog and realized the story was more inspirational than my mother described. 


First meet Mary Clare, a beautiful eight-year-old girl who was born with half a heart. She had her first heart surgery when she was five days old. Her second was at six months, the third when she was three years old. After her third open-heart surgery, MC began having seizures. In April of 2011, her mother writes;

Often, I’m asked, or told rather, “I don’t know how you do it.”

Honestly, I don’t either. Not that I have a choice in the matter, anyway. I’ve always been a “laid back” sort of person and I’m sure that helps. Acceptance is another huge factor. I’ve come to realize that although life isn’t exactly as I planned, it’s far more than I could have ever dreamed it would be. It is truly amazing. I’m not really sure why I’m asked that, honestly. I feel so lucky and so blessed with our life. Sure, the easiest path wasn’t just placed in our laps, but what we are able to truly see because of all of the bumps and curves of the path we are on is spectacular. The view is amazing and I wouldn’t want to see it with anyone else.

Then meet MC's mom, Kerri. A mere four months after her daughter's third surgery, Kerri blogs
that their family is getting ready to face another challenge:

I have been diagnosed with breast cancer, officially today, and as bluntly as that sounds, it shocks no less stated differently.  It’s how I was told yesterday, point blank, holding the hands of a stranger, lying alone on a paper covered table in a dimly lit exam room.  I’m certainly not the first to fight this battle and I’m not the only one.  I know I’ll beat this.  I have no doubt in my mind.  It’s just another bump in the road that forces us to stop dead in our tracks and realize that we aren’t in control. There are no words to explain how I feel right now.  There aren’t enough words to explain how thankful I am for my life and everyone in it.  I’m not sure of what to say or how to say it. I do know we have so many on our side and if my MC can beat the odds and make it through three open-heart surgeries and Epilepsy with her tiny half-heart, this will be a piece of cake for me.  

One of my friend's concerns is chemotherapy. Although she knows not everyone reacts the same to this treatment, she has quite a bit of anxiety not fully knowing what to expect. Hopefully, when and if she is ready to read it, Kerri's story which began September 11, 2011 will help.

My nurse educator suggested that I keep a journal of my first chemo treatment and the days following.  She explained that the effects of each treatment will most likely follow the same pattern.  She also mentioned that treatments will take on a snowball effect.  The side effects of each one will not lessen, as I would have thought, but they will progressively get worse. 

September 11- The eve of my first chemo treatment.  Anxious. Ready to get started. At this point, I’m embarrassed to say I’m more worried about my hair than anything.  I’ve tucked the girls into bed.  Mel is dozing on the couch beside me and I’m watching a 9/11 documentary on the History Channel.  All day, I’ve felt surrounded.  Surrounded by love, prayers, support. Today I feel so very loved. 

From what I've gathered, Kerri's tumor was large when officially found and diagnosed. She went through a round of chemotherapy, then surgery, then radiation, the chemotherapy again. Her year-long battle with breast cancer is an inspirational story to share with anyone newly diagnosed and wondering what next. 

Cancer isn’t easy, but for some reason, I have been blessed with health.  Despite cancer, despite chemo, despite radiation.  I shouldn’t have the honor of carrying the torch.  So many others have fought this battle and have had to sacrifice so much more than I have.  Even Mary Clare has battled much longer and harder than I have.  She has overcome the odds and has learned to live life to the fullest every single day despite how difficult it can be for her.

I’m not deserving to carry the torch.  At this moment I can think of so many others who have been sick for years, or my friend Betsy who lost her mother, or my new friend who is desperately hanging onto hope that radiation will work.   These people have suffered because of cancer.  Their lives have forever changed because of cancer.

I can only hope that God gives me the courage to represent those of us who have fought the battle and won and the words to touch those who have not been so fortunate.