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Breast cancer journey continues

It has been 13 years now since I was told that I had breast cancer – a fast-growing type, they said. On a scale from two to nine, I was a seven. Not a good number to be.
Being the first in my immediate family to be diagnosed with cancer, I searched my ancestor charts for other kin who may have died as a result of this particular affliction. I came up blank. In fact, throughout the lives of my family members, the most common cause of death was old age.
All four of my great-grandmothers died of advanced years, Grandmother Rebbe being 92. My father’s mother, Anna Torbeck, died of dropsy, what we now call congestive heart failure. And Grandma Gum of kidney failure.
Of my great-grandfathers, one died suddenly of apoplexy while doing the evening milking, another of a gunshot wound, and two others of old age and the infirmities that come with it.
Three years ago, I discovered that I really should not be alive. Women with my diagnosis of stage III metastatic breast cancer generally live five to seven years. At that time, I had made it nine years, a new all-time record.
It was at this time that I began to question my oncologist, Dr. Dy, about the chance of stopping treatment. After all, I had outlived the odds by several years.
About six months later, Dr. Dy told me of two conferences he had attended. The first was at Harvard University, where he had the opportunity to pose my question before 23 specialists in the study and treatment of breast cancer.
The doctors split almost in half, with half feeling that I am alive today because of the Herceptin, and the others believing that much rests on the outlook of the patient.
A second group of 12 oncologists, whom Dr. Dy addressed with my question, were at a conference of doctors who administered Herceptin for Her2 receptor breast cancer. This panel concluded that if I ceased treatments, the cancer would return within a year.
As it stands now, I visit the second-floor outpatient clinic at Fayette County Hospital every other week for an IV infusion of Herceptin, along with pre-meds.
In the years that I have attended the oncology clinic at the hospital, I have seen many people come and go. Everyone’s story is different.
I’ve never asked how long I have to live, but did ask the question of “Why?”
That search left a positive imprint on me to the extent that I now look at the cancer as a blessing and as a spiritual lesson.

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