This year, an estimated 5,820 women in Washington will be diagnosed with breast cancer. In Clark County, about 270 women receive breast cancer diagnoses each year.
Here, three Clark County women share their stories of breast cancer diagnoses, treatment and recovery — in their own words.
Every journey needs a party
Getting a cancer diagnosis is a journey of bad news. For some, it does not end until their last breath. For others, like me, it eventually ends (fingers crossed).
My journey went from an abnormal mammogram to a proposed lumpectomy to a double mastectomy. I even had a surprise post-surgery when the biopsy on my “healthy breast” found an undetected cancer. The series of unfortunate news ended when it was determined I did not need chemo, and that I did not carry the cancer gene (I am a mother of two daughters).
I believe that any journey, particularly into the unknown, needs to start with all your friends on board — and a party. So I threw myself a party, a “Bye Bye Boobies Party.”
I invited all my female friends and coworkers, my daughters and even some of their friends. It was a potluck, and food needed to be “boob themed.” The ladies came through. The table was covered with cupcakes, doughnuts, cookies, deviled eggs, cheese and crackers — all bearing a strong resemblance to breasts.
I created “Booby Bingo,” using some amazing (and previously unknown to me) nicknames for breasts, including earmuffs, doorknobs, sweater meat and rib cushions. I used an online app to create the bingo cards.
It was a great night. And all those ladies kept on supporting me through the last reconstruction surgery and beyond.
I am a stomach sleeper and continue to battle with sleeping comfortably despite numerous generations of pillow combinations. Otherwise, all is well. It’s a new normal, but it feels normal.
— Robin Helm, 62, of Salmon Creek. Diagnosed with Stage 1 invasive lobular cancer in 2013.
Surviving isn’t enough
I found the lump. There were four. Then there was a mammogram, ultrasound and biopsy. Then the words, “You have breast cancer.”
I was devastated, as we all are when we hear that. We think it can’t be. We think, “Why me?” We think back to all the things we’ve done that might have caused it. But there are no answers.
For me, the devastation came a month before my daughter’s graduation from high school and son’s last year of middle school. This diagnosis, I’ve learned, never comes at a convenient time. My normal routine vanished. My life filled with doctor appointments, tests and worry. It was overwhelming, and I cried a lot.
I had a double mastectomy with reconstruction and spent the next nine months preparing for, having and recovering from surgeries.
What got me through it? I joined a Portland Young Survivors Group so I could process and ask questions to people who were or have been through it. It made me feel normal, grateful and heard. My husband was incredibly supportive, which I discovered is not always the case.
Once my surgeries were over, I decided to have as many new experiences as possible, none of which had to do with cancer. I went trampolining, joined a gospel choir, went to Istanbul and Liberia, took a ballet class, participated in a flash mob, joined a writing group and ran a 5K.
But the thing I’m most proud of was getting second place in a tennis tournament nine months after I heard, “You have cancer.” Training for that tournament made me stretch my chest muscles, concentrate on something other than cancer, socialize with noncancer people and gave me a physical outlet for my anger, frustration and sadness.
For me, surviving isn’t enough. We all deserve to thrive.
— Heidi Yewman, 49, of Vancouver. Diagnosed with ductal carcinoma in situ in April 2012.
Cancer recurrence and chemo for life
I was inducted into breast cancer one night in November 2000.
I pulled the covers up and felt a “dip” in my right breast. Examination discovered it was a “dip” because it was next to a lump. Monday morning I called my primary care physician and she saw me at lunch time.
“Get a surgeon” was her advice.
I left her office and went to surgeons that performed breast cancer lumpectomy. Thursday evening, I had a lumpectomy that revealed an aggressive cancer that had already spread.
I had the right breast removed and received chemotherapy and radiation. Then, since the two breasts had gone everywhere together, I opted for removal of the left breast followed by a big sigh of relief.
The prevailing opinion was, if you get to five years with no recurrence, you are cured. Mine came back at six years. And it came back with a vengeance in the entire GI tract — stomach to rectum.
Since this was so unusual, my option was to try chemotherapy for a colon cancer recurrence — breast cancer recurs in liver, lungs or bone, “never” the gut. Possibly because there was so much cancer in the gut, I spent time twice in the ICU.
Once cancer has recurred, you go on low-dose chemo for the rest of your life. I get chemo every three weeks through my port and have minimal side effects; I have urinary incontinence (I pee my pants) for two to three days. You would never know.
— Sue J. Kohlhepp, 77, of Vancouver. Diagnosed with breast cancer in November 2000.
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