Honored for my sincere efforts

This entry was written by Tyesha Love, 2012 Butterfly Ball Gala Honoree and LBBC advocate. The Butterfly Ball honors women who have made an impact in the community by helping others affected by breast cancer. 

After my season with cancer, I developed a passion for educating, empowering and supporting other survivors and their loved ones. I wanted to inspire them to hold on to hope, just as so many others had done for me in my season. My family, friends and various cancer organizations gave encouragement and showed their support in a plethora of ways. They were a major impact on my recovery as their support was crucial to my holding on to faith and hope.

My goal simply became to engender awareness, offer support and provide comfort and empathy to other survivors, their loved ones and caregivers. I find such joy having a positive impact on their lives the way so many had on mine. I never sought or expected to get anything more from my efforts, other than the feeling of gratification from having touched people’s lives. It was heartwarming to learn that survivors and their loved ones were moved by my experience and efforts.

Needless to say, when Living Beyond Breast Cancer requested to have me as an honoree at their 2012 Butterfly Ball for my courage, strength and compassion, I was completely surprised. Astounded, anxious and excited…I humbly accepted.

My experience, having been diagnosed with cancer, has been a stepping stone, not a setback. While in my season, I cursed cancer. I doubted my ability to overcome such a plight. I allowed myself to feel defeated and become the victim. My memoir, I Am Not My Hair, A young woman’s journey and triumph over breast cancer, shares my story – a raw, authentic, frank and genuine telling of a season with cancer; an overwhelming roller coaster ride of victory and defeat.

Further into my journey toward survivorship, I realized cancer came as a blessing in disguise. Instead of allowing myself to get lost in a world of cancer, I triumphed over the disease. I grew stronger; I saw life with a new set of eyes – cherishing loved ones and valuing the simple things in life more so than I ever did. I wanted nothing more than to give back and that is what I set out to do for other survivors.

Having LBBC acknowledge and reward my efforts is such a great honor. It is an honor to receive an award for something I simply felt I was being called to do; something I felt was my responsibility to other survivors. This acknowledgement is proof I have and continue to accomplish what I set out to do and it is motivation to continue in this mission.

What I look forward to most as a Butterfly Ball honoree is to be in the presence of other survivors – being motivated and inspired by their stories. I look forward to the enhanced feeling of accomplishment – the success of making a positive impact on the lives of others who are pushing their way thought a season with cancer. I eagerly await this event to celebrate with those whom dedicate their time and resources to empowering others.

The Butterfly Ball will be held at the Philadelphia Loews Hotel on Saturday, November 10, 2012.

Your Giving Means More Living

The entry was written by Randi Rentz, who recenlty participated in an LBBC photoshoot:

I truly believe that life without breast cancer will happen, but how quickly is up to all of us.  Are you scratching your head right now with a bit of uncertainty? Well, listen up everybody! We all need to fight the battle today to create a tomorrow that is free from this disease. How can we work together to achieve this goal?

It’s simple and it’s achieved through one word, “giving.” This didn’t hit me until I read the mission of Living Beyond Breast Cancer. “LBBC is dedicated to empowering all women affected by breast cancer to live as long as possible with the best quality of life.” I thought long and hard about this statement and realized that this organization genuinely cares about resources unique to all women affected by breast cancer. The word, “giving,” a verb, may mean many things to many people, but in the breast cancer world,  “giving” ensures women that they don’t have to make this journey alone in the “Pink Bubble.”

Without generous donor support, LBBC’s educational programs would not be accessible. Many of their programs are FREE or low in cost, which was very important to me when I was diagnosed in 2008 with DCIS, Stage 1 breast cancer. I was able to connect with many women of various ages and ethnic backgrounds through workshops, written publications and peer-support services. In addition, I was able to share similar experiences, learn, laugh, cry, and create a new definition of “living.” We had an impact on one another, and to this day, I still call many of these women my friends. I am so fortunate that I found this national organization with a staff of devoted and talented individuals.

I found the educational programming to be very instrumental in my healing and recovery. Although I have been cancer-free for almost four years, I still attend conferences and participate in Yoga on the Steps, LBBC’s signature fundraising event.  I believe in “giving” back by contributing to the cause. I want to continue to take action to defeat breast cancer, not just by a generous donation, but by working to help people gain access to education, breast cancer screening, and treatment. BUT, I can’t do this alone.

With your help, we can work together to educate others and save lives. Living Beyond Breast cancer continues to serve as a model for other nonprofit organizations by constantly developing new and effective education and support curriculums to meet the needs of the breast cancer community. Through generous donor support, highly specialized publications will continue to remain a top priority to best meet the changing needs of all women affected by breast cancer. It will allow the best and brightest minds to reach more women than ever before.

Unfortunately, breast cancer thrives in a very bad economy. When there is limited “giving” and contributions, it’s easier for breast cancer to continue its deadly toll. Did you know that this disease takes one loved one’s life every 13 minutes here in the United States? I want to be part of the commitment to help expand educational programming, outreach and support services. Don’t you?  

By working together, we can come so far. Let’s hope that 2012 will be a year of continued “giving,” commitment and a cure! 

(L - R) Karen Cooke, Randi Rentz, Carole Weeks, Ping Lu, Penny L. Reiff

If you, like Randi, are interested in making a contribution to help LBBC continue in our mission to empower all women affected by breast cancer to live as long as possible with the best quality of life, visit our website’s donation page to learn more about how your donation will make a difference.

Friends are like bras…

This entry was written by Rita Marie Pinto, who was diagnosed with breast cancer at the age of 25.

Breast cancer obviously came as a shock to me at 25 years old.  Though I didn’t understand the how or why, I was ready.  I went into survival mode and I couldn’t think of anything but my survival; I simply focused on the positive and did everything I could to assure that I would get the best possible prognosis and my life back to normal.  I was ready for war… and thank God, I wasn’t alone.

I will never forget the day I was diagnosed.  Completely distraught, I called my mom first.  I remember crying, terrified, screaming, “Mom, I have CANCER!”  She hung up the phone and hurried to pick me up from work.  On the ride home, I called my closest girlfriends.  Needless to say, they were completely shocked.  I remember crying and explaining what I knew up to that point.  I also remember hearing the devastation in their nervous voices while they fought back tears.  Within a few hours, all of my closest friends and family were at my home.  When I look back over the past year and a half, I know that I was scared.  But I can’t imagine how it felt to be in the shoes of my closest friends… to have a friend who has cancer, to not know what comes next, to wonder if you’ll have that person next year at this time; that must be terrifying. 

My girlfriends saw my diagnosis as a reality check and realized that no one is safe from this awful disease.  I truly encourage all of my girlfriends, and young women in general, to be aware!  Know your body, know your breasts.  If your gut is telling you something is wrong, please act on it.  My diagnosis proved that life is too short and tomorrow is not guaranteed.  Breast cancer is real, but with the right armor, we can fight it.

Though their initial reaction was scared and nervous, my friends went with me into survival mode and turned all of the negativity into positivity.  My friends will never know just how much all of the “little things” they have done for me have impacted my life, and nourished my recovery.  It absolutely amazed me at how much they went out of their way to be there for me when I needed them.  These ladies took turns keeping me company after my double mastectomy, came to chemo with me, showered me with presents to lift my spirits, simply listened to me rant on my good and bad days, and spent many a Friday night on my living room floor just chatting and hanging out so that I wouldn’t feel out of the loop.

Though I did have to undergo 6 rounds of chemotherapy and 5 total surgeries, I was very lucky and blessed.  My cancer was completely treatable, and here I am, a year and a half later, happy and healthy.  My girlfriends were nothing short of incredible and I would not have gotten through my cancer journey without them.  I have been waiting for the right opportunity to express my gratitude to them, and I knew that eventually it would present itself:  Ladies, I could never thank you enough for what you’ve done for me.  You will never know how much each of you mean to me, and I am truly blessed to be surrounded by you.  I love you, and simply put, thank you.  As the saying goes, and ever so appropriately…

Friends are like bras – close to your heart, and there for support!

Were you diagnosed with breast cancer before the age of 45? You may be interested in attended the Conference for Young Women Affected by Breast Cancer (C4YW). Learn more about the conference by visiting www.c4yw.org.

A Daughter’s Breast Cancer Journey; Through Her Mother’s Eyes: Part 1 of 3

This entry was written by Nancy Amorosi. Many of you may remember Jaime Rossano, one of the year-long series bloggers who, in a raw and honest tone, shared her breast cancer journey from diagnosis to post treatment in 2011. In this entry, her mother gives us her perspective of the journey. Over the year, she tried desperately to hide her true feelings of fear that consumed her heart facing the reality that she could never handle the idea of losing her baby girl.

Every Tuesday for the rest of this month, join Nancy as she recaps her daughter’s breast cancer diagnosis in a 3-week series.

Read Jaime’s blogs by searching “Jaime Rossano” in the search box on this site.

It was October 2010 and life was “routine”. Our 27-year-old daughter Jaime was married and had given birth to our beautiful grandson Ronnie. Just months after completing breast feeding her son she came to me and said she felt a lump in her left breast. She immediately went for a mammogram and although the radiologist said to have an excisional biopsy right away, I was not overly alarmed. She was only 27 years old. However, day after day as we waited for the results a sick feeling began to emerge. The phone call came and the words “Jaime your results are positive, you have breast cancer” would change our lives forever. I held her tight, holding her up as her knees buckled beneath her and the tears streamed down her face. I somehow found the strength to hold it together and whisper “everything will be okay; I will be beside you every step of the way.” How does a mother respond when her daughter screams in fear “I don’t want to die mom, I don’t want to die.” And so our journey began.

I remember that evening after spending time with my husband and him holding me tight, I escaped to the bathroom to be alone and the floodgates opened, my body trembled and I slid to the floor, sobbing in disbelief. How could this be? This should not happen to our little girl, this should happen to ME! She is too young, a new wife, a new mommy, still going to school and working. How could this be? I remember feeling so guilty almost as if it was my fault.

I kept myself busy with phone calls, organizing research, doctors, family, friends, and gathering resources. She needed the best and it was my job to find it and we did. The following weeks were consumed with appointments, tests, more appointments. At this point the reality of what was really happening did not set in just yet. Jaime and I spent hours talking and crying and trying to make sense of it all. Despite feeling helpless to stop this monster called “cancer” I pretended to be strong and spoke only of positive and reassuring words. At the end of each day my bathtub became my sanctuary. A place to release my tears, my fears and collapse in anger and frustration and I would pray like never before. “Please God, don’t let my daughter die”.

The most agonizing memory for me was at 4pm on surgery day when Jaime was still in surgery and I had to leave to pick up my 18-month-old grandson from daycare. I stood before the elevator shaking and crying knowing I would not be beside her when she awoke from this nightmare as I had promised. I knew she would understand and would want me to get her baby boy home safe. I drove my car all the way with tears streaming down my face knowing in my heart she would be okay. My heart never felt so torn! Surgery went well and two days later she went home. I was amazed at her ability to tolerate the pain and remain upbeat despite what this monster “cancer” just stole from her. My days were long and nights were short, caring for her baby at night, getting him to daycare in the am, and then caring for Jaime during the day while cleaning, cooking, doing laundry, lying together watching movies and talking about the future and staying positive all the while. When evening fell it was back to my sanctuary and a bubble filled tub to collapse and allow my emotions to flow which would allow me to start renewed each day with a sense of purpose and hope.

Ronnie, Nana and Pop Pop

Tomorrow is another day…

This entry was written by Donna Helmes, a participant of the 2011 Fall Writing Series:

When I was a young girl, my father took me to see an afternoon showing of the movie, Gone With the Wind.   Just one look at the beautiful, larger-than-life Scarlett O’Hara and I was hooked.  I took many things about the story to heart, including Ms. O’Hara’s belief that “tomorrow is another day,” –  and, that there is always time to deal with things in the future. 

In my own life, I had put off a personal life to pursue my career. What about a serious relationship? A relaxing vacation? Having a family of my own?  Well, after all, tomorrow is another day…

Then in 2008, during a routine mammogram, an eagle-eyed radiologist discovered a mass.  After a diagnosis of breast cancer (invasive ductal carcinoma), a bilateral mastectomy and 4 rounds of chemotherapy soon followed. As I recovered from treatment, I was filled with regret over missed opportunities; I grieved for things I believed that I would never have. My heart broke at the realization that I would probably never have a child of my own.  I no longer believed in tomorrow.  I thought my life was over before it ever really had begun. 

I hated having breast cancer. Period.  I do not want any woman to have to face this diagnosis, nor do I want my cancer to return.  It was hard to go through treatment and to live with its aftereffects.  Yet, a funny thing happened on my journey through Cancer Town.  I stopped mourning my tomorrows and began to live for today.

I wanted to live my dreams. Most cancer patients have fantasies about climbing Mt. Everest or…running with the bulls in Pamplona. Me?  I didn’t think I needed a big life to have a great one. I started digging in my garden and discovered that I absolutely love flowers.  I bought a small house near the river with a wonderful area for roses and a vegetable patch. I took long walks and cut back on my hours at work.  I borrowed books from the local library and sipped wine at lunch with friends. 

I took a deep breath and signed up for a poetry writing class with Alysa Cummings through Living Beyond Breast Cancer. The idea of participating terrified me; therefore, I knew that it was the right thing to do.  I had never written poetry, though I had kept a journal for many years.  Interestingly, once diagnosed with cancer, I found I could no longer write a word.  At first, I attributed this to “chemo-brain,” but my writer’s block continued long after my treatment ended.  I realized that I was afraid to write. Scared to express how I felt, scared to release all those complicated emotions – anger, fear, resentment, uncertainty – that go along with having a diagnosis of breast cancer.  I feared becoming overwhelmed by them. 

Luckily, rather than being overwhelmed, I felt lighter and empowered by the class.  It provided me with a safe space to process my experience and I learned what being a breast cancer survivor means to me.  I found myself writing once again.  At night I would pop open my journal, excited to fill the blank pages. 

After treatment, and with the promise of a very good prognosis still ringing in my ears, I contacted the Social Services Adoption Division. Nine months to the day, they placed my daughter in my arms.  This summer, she and I chased butterflies and ate cherry tomatoes from our garden.  We celebrated the holidays and together we rang in 2012.

Meet Bella...

I have to say this was my best New Year yet and, though I am looking forward to 2012, I am enjoying living for today.

There will be a Spring Writing Series beginning in mid-March. Be sure to visit LBBC.org for more information.  This 2012, how will you define your breast cancer diagnosis and channel the devastation of your breast cancer into an outlet of positivity?

Blogging has given me independence

This entry was written by Jackie Roth, PhD. Jackie is a Postdoctoral Fellow at The Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia who was diagnosed with Stage III A breast cancer at the age of 28. Every other Friday, throughout the entire year of 2011, Jackie will share a blog entry about her breast cancer experience. This year-long blog series is in honor of LBBC’s 20th anniversary.

To read Jackie’s previous entries, enter “ Jackie Roth” in the search box on this site.

As the holidays roll in this year, I can’t believe that it is time for me to write my last blog!  It has been wonderful sharing the past year of my life with you, my readers.  Over this year, I was surprised to discover that writing and sharing my story has been a large part of my healing process. 

When writing my blogs, sometimes the words would flow very easily, and other times I would find myself in a pile of tears unable to muddle through a page of text.  I also found myself alternating between light stories and then more serious issues.  This really demonstrates how the cancer journey is a rollercoaster, with ups and downs along the way.  I learned that to write a powerful and moving blog, you should write when you are “feeling” it, whether it’s the middle of the night or you’re on the bus ride home.  At the very least you should jot down notes so that you can really capture how you were feeling in that exact moment.  I also found that I would let my stories marinate on paper for at least 1 day, and then I would go back and revise.  They always just sounded better when I did that. 

Over this past year, one of the best feelings for me is when someone that I didn’t know is reading my blog comments on it.  I am always surprised and thrilled to know they are taking time to read my story.   Additionally I am also very happy when I get messages out of the blue from people that I haven’t talked to in a while and they are writing to check on me.  These messages always make me smile.  I even smile when I just see people “Like” my posts on Facebook! 

Thank you to the readers, you inspire me just as much as you say that I inspire you.   Thank you for taking the time out of your day to read my story, some of you reading a year’s worth of blogs in one afternoon!  I’m convinced that some good has to come out of being diagnosed with breast cancer and I think my blog is part of that good.  It has been good to help other women, show them that they are not alone and that their issues are relevant.  It has been good to bond over something, to make new friends, new sisters. 

For me, blogging has given me independence and the courage to put it all out there and not base my writing on what other people may think.  I am a new person, more alive than ever.  You feel alive when you are fighting and, over the past year and a half, I fought for my life.  Within that time, I think I’ve learned lessons that some people take a life-time to figure out and I hope I’ve been able to share them with you in my blogs. 

So as I close this chapter of blogging, I am focusing on new ways to become involved in LBBC and other breast cancer organizations.  I am getting very involved in my job and just trying to find my new normal, if it exists out there somewhere!  With the major part of my reconstructive surgery now complete (as of last week!), I feel like I am ready to move on and see what’s next in store for me out there.   

Thank you for reading!

How have Jackie’s blogs been inspiring to you?

 

 

Healing Through Poetry

Lisa Marsella’s  THE TWELVE DAYS OF CHRISTMAS WITH CANCER is this month’s Healing Through Poetry feature:

On the first day of Christmas
My cancer sent to me
A Dose of Reality

On the second day of Christmas
My cancer sent to me
2 Mangled Breasts
And a Dose of Reality

On the third day of Christmas
My cancer sent to me
3 Different Surgeries
2 Mangled Breasts
And a Dose of Reality

On the fourth day of Christmas
My cancer sent to me
4 Trips to the ER
3 Different Surgeries
2 Mangled Breasts
And a Dose of Reality

On the fifth day of Christmas
My cancer sent to me
5 LONELY LOCKS OF HAIR
4 Trips to the ER
3 Different Surgeries
2 Mangled Breasts
And a Dose of Reality

On the sixth day of Christmas
My cancer sent to me
6 Months of Treatments
5 LONELY LOCKS OF HAIR
4 Trips to the ER
3 Different Surgeries
2 Mangled Breasts
And a Dose of Reality

On the seventh day of Christmas
My cancer sent to me
7 Week Radiation
6 Months of Treatments
5 LONELY LOCKS OF HAIR
4 Trips to the ER
3 Different Surgeries
2 Mangled Breasts
And a Dose of Reality

On the eighth day of Christmas
My cancer sent to me
8 Sets of X-rays
7 Week Radiation
6 Months of Treatments
5 LONELY LOCKS OF HAIR
4 Trips to the ER
3 Different Surgeries
2 Mangled Breasts
And a Dose of Reality

On the ninth day of Christmas
My cancer sent to me
9 Friends a Fretting,
8 Sets of X-rays
7 Week Radiation
6 Months of Treatments
5 LONELY LOCKS OF HAIR
4 Trips to the ER
3 Different Surgeries
2 Mangled Breasts
And a Dose of Reality

On the tenth day of Christmas
My cancer sent to me
10 Scarves of Color
9 Friends a Fretting
8 Sets of X-rays
7 Week Radiation
6 Months of Treatments
5 LONELY LOCKS OF HAIR
4 Trips to the ER
3 Different Surgeries
2 Mangled Breasts
And a Dose of Reality

On the eleventh day of Christmas
My cancer sent to me
11 Doctor Visits
10 Scarves of Color
9 Friends a Fretting
8 Sets of X-rays
7 Week Radiation
6 Months of Treatment
5 LONELY LOCKS OF HAIR
4 Trips to the ER
3 Different Surgeries
2 Mangled Breasts
And a Dose of Reality

On the twelfth day of Christmas
My cancer sent to me
12 Months of Crying
11 Doctor Visits
10 Scarves of Color
9 Friends a Fretting
8 Sets of X-rays
7 Week Radiation
6 Months of Treatment
5 LONELY LOCKS OF HAIR
4 Trips to the ER
3 Different Surgeries
2 Mangled Breasts
And a Dose of Reality

 

 Lisa Marsella tells her story about her journey with breast cancer.

I Want to Thank You – All Of You

This entry was written by Jaime Rossano. Jaime was diagnosed with 2B invasive ductal carcinoma breast cancer. Jaime is a college student pursuing a degree in Humanities and Social Science.  Every other Friday, Jaime will share a blog entry about her breast cancer experience. This year-long blog series is in honor of LBBC’s 20^th anniversary.

To read Jaime’s previous entries, enter “Jaime Rossano” in the search box on this site.

As the holidays approach I am reminded that last year was not a great one for me. Christmas came about two or so weeks after my mastectomy and how can you really celebrate the holidays knowing you are battling cancer? But this Christmas, I feel better than ever. Although I had surgery a few weeks ago, I feel pretty good.  This year I have made up for missing out on so much last year. My hope for the new year is that I remain healthy. So far things are starting off wonderful and I hope that it continues in that direction.

Well I have to say coming up on a year since I began blogging is a bitter sweet ending. I am so excited that I have made it through this past year but also it is a reminder I need to move forward in my journey. I have traveled down many roads during this journey and have met some amazing people. I have accomplished so much and I feel like I can conquer anything that comes my way.

This entry will conclude my year-long blog series, and I would like to thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedules to read my blogs. When I was first approached to participate in this amazing initiative, I have to admit I was a little nervous. I have a habit of always being honest and I wasn’t sure if my honesty and blogging was going to work together. I promised myself that I was not going to sugarcoat anything. If I was having a bad day you were going to know I was having a bad day.

I wanted to make sure that I was the voice for those who did not have a voice. I have to say I feel that I shared that with you. I made sure I let each and every one of you into my life through my writing. I have used my writing as an outlet to help others who are going through the same situation or similar situations that I have been in. I have had great days and really bad days but I wanted to share them with you. I wanted to share the happy moments, the scary moments and even the sad and bad moments. You have allowed me to become a stronger woman just by allowing me to blog my innermost thoughts and feelings. Over the past year I have learned things about myself that I would never have learned if I had not gone through this experience.

For those of you who supported me by commenting on my blogs, I thank you. You just reassured me that I was not the only one feeling or going through certain challenges. As a community of cancer patients, young and old, we need the support of each other to fight the battle. We are never alone. There is always someone out there who knows how you feel.

Thank you LBBC and followers for your support.  You haven’t seen the last of me. 

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

What impact has Jaime’s blogging series had on your personal breast cancer journey, whether you’re newly diagnosed or living beyond breast cancer? Comment here or on our Facebook page.

My husband, the Co-Survivor

This entry was written by Jackie Roth, PhD. Jackie is a Postdoctoral Fellow at The Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia who was diagnosed with Stage III A breast cancer at the age of 28. Every other Friday, throughout the entire year of 2011, Jackie will share a blog entry about her breast cancer experience. This year-long blog series is in honor of LBBC’s 20th anniversary.

To read Jackie’s previous entries, enter “ Jackie Roth” in the search box on this site.

As I am finishing up on my time blogging for LBBC, I’ve been reading my past entries and I’ve noticed that I did not write very much about my husband over the past year.  When I brought this to his attention, he said “well I just want you to write what you are feeling about!”  So I wrote about challenges that I’ve faced and changes that I’ve been going through along this cancer journey.   Ron has been my constant, my non-changing supporter and I think that’s why I have not written that much about him.   And he definitely deserves many, many blogs!

Ron and I met in 2004 when he was actually introduced to me by a mutual friend as “Ken”!  So for many weeks, I called him Ken and he did not correct me!  I did not see Ron for a while, actually until 2005 when we ended up in biochemistry class together, and then I learned his real name!  Ron and I were in the same program at graduate school, but he was one year ahead of me.  Shortly thereafter we began dating and moved in together a year and a half later.  Throughout our relationship, we never broke-up, we never even took a “break” and Ron proposed on our balcony on our 2-year anniversary.  We were married a year and a half after that in 2009.  I am so proud of him and all that he has accomplished during the past few years.  He will graduate from law school in the spring and he already has a job lined up.  Ron has really excelled at school and everything he has done there. 

Our marriage has been anything but typical.  I was diagnosed with breast cancer 1 year after we were married, on Ron’s 30^th birthday.  Throughout this journey, Ron has had to take on many roles aside from supporter.  He has had to become my nurse and give me daily injections in my stomach when my white blood cells would not bounce back after chemo.  He has taken care of my drains post surgery and woke me up every six hours to give me my pills.  He has become our housekeeper, cleaning the bathtub almost every day during my chemo because that was the only place I could stand to be without getting nauseous.  He has become our chef, making me meals even though he does not really like to cook anymore.  Ron took care of me, our cat, and our house all while being a student in law school.  He was there every step of the way and he truly embodies the word “co-survivor.”

I can see in his eyes that he wants to take my cancer and pain away.  He feels helpless.  Even though I don’t say it to him all the time, he helps more than he knows by just being there.  A nice hug at the end of a long day is all that I need from him.  I married the most amazing man I’ve ever met.  He is my best friend and I can’t wait to spend every day from here on out with him.  I love you!

Who is the co-survivor in your life?

Patience heals all wounds

This entry was written by Jaime Rossano. Jaime was diagnosed with 2B invasive ductal carcinoma breast cancer. Jaime is a college student pursuing a degree in Humanities and Social Science.  Every other Friday, Jaime will share a blog entry about her breast cancer experience. This year-long blog series is in honor of LBBC’s 20^th anniversary.

To read Jaime’s previous entries, enter “Jaime Rossano” in the search box on this site.

We are taught a lot of things while we are growing up: have patience; be respectful; respect your elders; look both directions before crossing the street; wait your turn; ask questions because there are no stupid questions. We are taught to make friends, not enemies; raise your hand; wash your hands; cover your mouth; help those who are in need; We are raised with values and morals that may differ from one another but all in all we are raised to be well-rounded individuals.

Over the past year there have been many situations where I have to dig deep and think back to when I was a child and what my parents have told me. You haven’t learned it all until you have experienced it all.  Experience is the key word here. I have to say you can teach me right out of the book but the only way to truly learn something is by experiencing it.

The countless hours sitting in the waiting room = Patience

Watching the people who have appointments after you go first= Take Turns

The endless tests that have to be run before you can move further through your journey = Patience

Being your own advocate to make sure you are receiving the best care possible= Ask questions

Sharing my story with others to let them know they are not alone = Helping those in need

The cranky nurses that seem to always have a bad day (I found out bring them candy and they will be your best friend) = Make friends, not enemies

Going through chemo you always have to be careful of germs = Wash your hands and cover your mouth

Parking lots at the hospital or doctors office are always dangerous – everyone is in a rush to get to nowhere = Look both directions before crossing the street

The comments of our elders sometimes are not the comments we are expecting, sometimes they do not have a very nice way of saying something or just say something that really gets under your skin = Respect your elders

The countless times you have to make doctor’s appointments and you need to be put on hold = Patience

Recovery time from chemo, radiation, surgery = PATIENCE

You will notice a common word throughout this blog and that would be PATIENCE. Many of us can say we have patience but it is not until our patience is tested to the max that we develop an understanding of the meaning of patience.

Since my surgery last week, patience has been a big issue for me. I am so tired of not being 100% and feeling great. I have learned that things take time to heal and after surgery your can’t heal over night. You need time and patience to allow things to heal. You need patience for the end result, you need patience with yourself, your body and your mind. So take a deep breath sit back and relax and learn to be patient. It’s not easy, but it is possible.

My son Ronnie makes my patience worth it!

We want to hear from you! How has your patience been tested during your breast cancer journey? Did you, like Jaime, learn to embrace patience in order to achieve a more seamless breast cancer experience?