Cancer Sucks:

My head was cold. My menses stopped—one plus, if it was temporary. Will I be fertile after? This cancer had really interrupted my life! Treatment and recovery really forced me to have a more inward focus. My sense of taste had changed to bland everything. I didn’t care about receiving holiday presents; I just wanted to feel normal again.

I thought of chemo as the “big cleanse” but toward the end it was like torture. The anxiety and dread were overwhelming. If I hadn’t had friends who had taken off work to drive me, I would not have made it to my treatments.

Keep Living and Celebrating:

I was determined not to let my treatment prevent me from the celebrations that had been scheduled long in advance. Ethan and I went to New York City for my friend Katie’s wedding to Timothy. I brought my Julie wig as an option, but found a big, beautiful, fancy, black hat to wear with my outfit.

The city did overwhelm me, and I couldn’t do all the walking around that we would normally do. But it was a great trip to have before I started my second chemo drug, and it worked out that I was feeling good that weekend.

Extending My Hobbies:

I’d done a triathlon, but something was still missing: music. I joined a local women’s choir. It has been wonderful to sing with over 100 women each week. It has even improved my breathing when I swim.

Since having a baby was postponed, I really enjoyed playing with my friend’s newborn, Sebastian. Seb and I got hair together.

My friends Lisa and Dave got married and the Komen 2005 Race for the Cure happened again in October. Alicia and Debbie made it to walk with me.

I got to visit with my brother’s family fall 2005, and captured a few days in the youth of my niece and nephew. Getting back to my photography hobby helped me to feel normal again.

Will I Live?

Thanks to improved screening and treatments, breast cancer is not the death sentence it once was. Still, my cancer journey was not all flowers and snowcapped peaks. Will we have a family together; will we grow old together? Life after cancer is uncertain and you need to keep living.

Many tears have been shed and many more arise as the 3 month checkups come and go. “Suspect areas” on MRI’s elicit more biopsies. Even though I feel great, there is still a lot of emotion and stress surrounding doctor visits and test results. Currently, I’m all clear. I keep going day by day.

The Unexpected:

I didn’t expect to love Ethan even more. We make conscious efforts to love each other in small ways every day. We know that the proverbial forever is not necessarily a given 50+ years.

Storybooking is a celebration of life. Celebrate yours today.

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Cancer Stories

Changes:

No one plans on getting a chronic illness. When you are faced with “the news,” you have a choice. As singer/songwriter Holly Near asks, “Do you pick fascination or fear?”

I certainly had a lot of anxiety and fear. However, I found that getting curious and understanding more about my illnesses helped me. In reflection, I now realize how much I have forgotton and how much I have chosen fascination.

As I’m writing this book, I notice that an orchid, was given to me when I was diagnosed and it is finally re-blooming, a year and 10 months later. Hopefully, no matter what changes we go through with cancer, we will bloom on the other side too.

Summer 2004:

I was celebrating being stable mentally after experiencing a manic episode in the fall of 2002 and finding out I had Bipolar Type 1 disorder. My husband, Ethan, and I were talking more seriously about starting a family. Then we found a lump on my left breast. I was told to watch it, assured that I was young with no family history. I was happy to ignore it. Later that summer a lump under my left armpit got my attention and within four days both lumps were removed and it was confirmed that I had all receptor negative breast cancer.

In shock, because I felt really healthy. In shock because that is how I deal with trauma. I had a lumpectomy and axial node dissection which showed that five of 21 lymph nodes removed were infected with cancer. I was diagnosed stage 2a, faced four months of Faxotere and A/C, had another re-excision in January, and had radiation in February and March for six weeks. Those are the medical details. To follow is my personal journey.

Off with the Hair:

I didn’t want to wait for my hair to fall out. I donated my 10 inches of hair to Locks of Love, a nonprofit that makes wigs for kids and adults with hair loss. My friends Esther and Josh had just bought a pair of shears to use on Josh’s head. Esther “practiced” on me first, since I wanted it all off.

I learned the true meaning of Take Care:

With my hair off and wig and hats waiting and ready, I felt prepared for chemotherapy. I was very scared heading into the first round of chemo. I attended a breast cancer support group and it helped to hear other women’s stories. I met with a doctor that specialized in holistic cancer treatment and recommended a slew of supplements; I found an acupuncturist; I signed up my girl friends to drive me to my chemo appointments; I scheduled massages every 2 weeks.

Taking care of yourself comes in many forms and often can seem overwhelming. I so appreciated Ethan’s ability to let me be however I was feeling at the time and take care of himself too.

To be continued…

Storybooking is a celebration of life. Celebrate yours today.

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Cancer Stories

My sister, Chelsea, had waited until a little later in life to find love. She was 35 when she started dating Matt. They quickly fell in love and a few months later, were engaged. Chelsea felt that for the first time, things were really falling into place. She had a job that she liked, a man that she loved, and soon would have two new step daughters and a new home for them all.

Right after they moved into their new home, and a month before they were to be married, I got a call from my sister. She was crying and blurted out, “I have cancer.” I said, “I’ll be right there,” and rushed over to her house.

We were all in shock. My mom and dad were there too, but none of us knew what to say.  The timing seemed like some kind of cruel trick. But at the same time, we all knew that God has a plan for each of us.

After finding out about the cancer, Chelsea questioned whether Matt still wanted to get married. He had buried his first wife only a few years before and was understandably shaken. He said of course he still wanted to get married, and the wedding plans went ahead, along with a schedule for chemo.

Exactly one week before her wedding, my sister started to lose her hair. She decided to have a head shaving party and we all took turns cutting out chunks of hair. She even tried out a Mohawk before shaving it down to bare skin. I was quite impressed at how good she looked bald, and even more impressed with the way she handled it.

One week later, she was getting ready for her wedding. It was a bitter sweet moment—my mom helping her with her dress and wig. She’s always changed her hair so often that no one would have known the difference. But, of course, they already knew what had happened. I was sure that she would pull the wig off during the reception, (you’d have to know my sister to understand) but to my surprise, she didn’t. It was a beautiful night!

After the wedding, they decided to postpone their honeymoon until Chelsea was feeling better. Then came more rounds of chemo, radiation, surgery, reconstruction surgery, losing fingernails, losing her job, gaining weight, growing hair back (even if it was curly and black).  All this, plus settling in with her new husband and his two daughters, in the first year of marriage.

So far, the cancer has not returned, but she’s not out of the woods yet. She had a very aggressive type of cancer, and nearly all the risk factors that make it worse. I know she’ll continue to worry as each check up rolls around. But even if it does return, I know she’ll be ready to fight again. She has stayed strong through this whole process, and it has changed her forever. I’m very proud of the way she’s handled herself, never losing faith that God would pull her through this. I hope that if I ever have to face my own battle with cancer, or any other illness, I can do it as well as she has.

Cancer Stories

The second evening in the hospital, you were watching TV with Dad and you said that your eye felt funny and that you couldn’t see out very well. I reported it to the nurse and within a few minutes it was like an emergency room. Doctors were there and they were discussing what to do. You were losing sight in your left eye. They decided to start chemo early as your tumor was a very aggressive one.

Mommy and Daddy asked our bishop to come say a special prayer with you. In the morning you felt so much better and I said, “You know why you are feeling so much better don’t you?  It is because of these nurses and doctors…”

You cut me off and said, “No, Mom. It is because of…” and pointed to the heavens. You inspired us through this whole struggle. You led the way with your ability to believe.

Daddy hated to leave you and Mommy each night. He had to go take care of Ryleigh and go to work to earn money. But as he left each night, he said something that also inspired us: “Teague, remember that you have the heart of a lion, the strength of an elephant, and you are my hero.” At age six you loved animals and I think this helped you to know just how strong you were.

After about a week you were again well enough to get up and play a little. There were bikes you could ride for fun. We called you “Fonz” as you were the only one on the floor with hair. The chemo treatment seemed to be working as you started to breathe through your nose again!

So many people were kind to us. Cards, gifts, money, and even shaving their heads to support us! We posted a blog at caringbridge.org so loved ones could stay in touch.

I will always remember how you were hooked up to your pole. You didn’t like that and would complain that I couldn’t keep up when you rode the bike and you preferred dad to follow you with your pole.

You stayed in the hospital for about a month before you were allowed to come home. You usually were home for a week and then you’d get an infection and be back in the hospital again. We lived about 40 minutes from the hospital and if you ever got a fever we had to have you in within an hour.

You played hard when you were home! We would need to go in to get you a blood transfusion and you’d be running all over the playground!

After having a really hard six weeks of radiation the Yankees came to town and life was good again! Daddy & Uncle Ron made it possible for you sit in the dugout during batting practice! You met all the Yankee greats. They signed a ball just for you. It was the best day!

Daddy’s friends joked, “How did Trent qualify for Make-A-Wish?” Your real Make-A-Wish was a wonderful playhouse. We were so grateful for all the wonderful experiences you were given.

Storybooking is a celebration of life. Celebrate yours today.

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Cancer Stories

This is a story of how Teague became our hero in 2005.

Here he is at the end of his journey with cancer. A survivor! A hero!

Teague,

Someday you will want to know the story of your fight with cancer. We will celebrate it in these pages and hope that as other trials in life occur, you will remember being six!

How your journey began…

We had just finished the Christmas holidays and then celebrated your sixth birthday. It seemed you had a bad cold. Right after Christmas I took you to our doctor in Seattle. He gave us an antibiotic. That didn’t help your stuffed-up nose, so we went back and he gave us more medicine. That didn’t help, so we went back again.

He said, “Lady, what do you want from me?”

I said, “My boy is not well; maybe he needs to go to the hospital.”

Then the doctor looked in your mouth and saw your pallet had dropped and said, “Go to the hospital right now… Go straight there!”

I called Dad and we went.

It was Jan. 12th, 2005, the day we found out you had cancer.

I have often wondered what I would do if I was ever told that my child had cancer. I thought I would fall to the floor and faint, but on that evening in January I didn’t faint. I don’t know what held me up, but I looked back at the doctor who gave us the bad news and said, “What can we do? Let’s get started.” I guess something in me realized that in order to have a healthy boy, I had to believe it could happen.

You were diagnosed with rabdomyosarcoma, which is a soft tissue tumor in the nasal region of your head. They said you had about a fifty percent chance to survive it. They would start chemotherapy in a few days. The chemo was to last 11 months and you would also have six weeks of radiation.

They put a central line in your chest. It was called a Hickman line. The man who invented it actually went to our church!

They also had to check your bones and lungs and make sure that the cancer hadn’t spread. We got the results of the tests and it was great news that the cancer had not spread. We all said a prayer of thanks and we all started praying, harder than we have ever prayed, that you would get well. So many people prayed for you from all over the US, Canada and even Ireland where you were born.

Storybooking is a celebration of life. Celebrate yours today.

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Cancer Stories

Radiation and Life after Chemo

After Hawaii, it was time to start radiation. I put a robe on and went into a room with a big machine and then lay down. I had no idea what to expect so I just waited for something painful and long.

The tech left and I laid there as a laser moved across my chest. He came back, he changed everything and once again the laser moved back and forth. He told me I was finished and that I would see them tomorrow.

I was in shock. “That is it?” I said. They laughed and told me it would most likely take longer for me to change than to get my actual treatment. After chemotherapy, I couldn’t have been happier to be doing radiation. The only painful thing was them tattooing small dots on my chest for the leasers to be lined up. After that the usual discomfort of three men staring at your breasts day after day… that was the only drawback to radiation.

I wore my wig for radiation and, looking back now, I don’t know why. I was the youngest patient in almost every place I went. I felt unique in some degree and then at the same time I felt misplaced. No one had an explanation as to how I got my cancer. It took some time, but I began to realize there was a reason why I had cancer; it is so I can help others.

Life was changing and my focus was not on cancer, it was on building my life. I felt like I could simply leave the whole experience in the past. I began to see my life in a linear fashion instead of stair-stepping to higher views.

In December, I was approaching my one year reunion of the discovery of my cancer. My arm began to hurt; I became very alarmed because this is how it had felt when I found my tumor. I just knew the cancer was back.

I went to my doctor and she sent me to an occupational therapist. He told me I Lymphedema. With the combination of my surgery and my radiation, I had very few lymph nodes remaining in my left arm. The swelling and pain I was feeling was due to the inability of my arm to handle all the excess protein being distributed by my blood. There was no cure for Lymphedema and would be something I had to take care of for the rest of my life.

Why couldn’t’ I simply move on without breast cancer continually interrupting my life? After thinking about that question, it came to me that breast cancer will forever be a part of my life. I had to accept that. It was at this time I decided I wanted to do more than just accept it; I wanted to help others accept it.

I know it is not possible for me to sum up the experience of breast Cancer in my life. I don’t think it is even possible for you to truly understand what it was like. But I hope this book will help you to know that cancer does not equal death. Cancer is a great learning experience. If I had to do it all over again, knowing what I know and having gained such a clear picture of my life, I would.  

Storybooking is a celebration of life. Celebrate yours today.

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Cancer Stories

Freedom to Travel

I finished my last session of chemotherapy at the end of May and on June 4^th I was on an airplane to New York. It was as if the doctor said, “No more chemo,” and I said,”Then I am out of here.” I had felt so confined for so long that the freedom of being able to travel was exhilarating. My incredible boyfriend decided I needed a pick me up from the last five months and so we planned a trip to New York and Georgia. These two states were significant because I served a mission for my church in New York and he served his mission in Georgia. The trip was one of extreme emotion and a lot of traveling.

We spent the first day in New York City and my favorite part was a ferry over to the Statue of Liberty. After one day there, we flew to upstate New York where we visited many historical sites. I had been a missionary in these places and was given the honor of taking tours through the sites. To be back in those places where I could feel a strong peace and spirit, was a soothing treatment for me.

We went to Fairport, Newark, Palmyra, Fayette, Niagara Falls, and Buffalo. We then flew back to New York City where our flight took us to Georgia. From Atlanta we drove to Augusta, then on to Statesboro, Savannah, Alma, Cordele, Columbus, Warner Robbins and back to the airport.

The scenery was beautiful. We experienced good southern hospitality and no one even knew I was wearing a wig! With all that traveling, you would think that I was traveled out. But the very day I landed from my trip, I was back on a plane, this time to Hawaii.

This trip was not a vacation; this trip was my Graduation. We arrived in Hawaii and I got chills as I felt the warm sun and could smell the sweet scent of the island. Memories began to flood my mind of so many precious moments I had spent here. I had not see my friends, professors or even old roommates that I never had a chance to say goodbye. This trip would bring the closure I needed to move forward.

The reunions were endless and everyone was so surprised to see me. I cried a lot and hugged and kissed a lot. I realized how many friends I truly had within Brigham Young University Hawaii. I tried to catch up on the details of the last six months and yet so much had happened it seemed impossible. I gave continuous thanks for the support and love I had been given.

June 19, 2004, the day of graduation, was such a memorable day for me. I was emotional from the beginning. The moment I stepped up on the stage and my name was called over the microphone, I knew I had taken a huge leap to get here.

President Shumway handed me my diploma and tears streamed down my face. The choir sang, “You Raise Me Up,” by Josh Groban, and I really cried then as I thought of all the people who had raised me up to help me get to graduation. The traditions of Hawaii make graduation a celebration of love.

After the ceremony we stepped outside and were showered with leis from all of our friends and loved ones. I could now say goodbye to Hawaii and leave feeling complete.

To be continued…

Storybooking is a celebration of life. Celebrate yours today.

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Cancer Stories

A Time Never to be Forgotten: Chemotherapy

If I had three words to describe chemotherapy, they would be: Sick, Sick, Sick. You feel sick while you sit in a chair for three and a half hours and taste the medicine that is dripping from the bags into the veins. You feel sick as you get home, throw up and then crash—simply sleeping the days away. You feel sicker knowing that in three weeks, as soon as you begin to feel better, you get to do it all over again. Yet, it was through this sickness that I began to see miracles happen. It was at this time I began to see life in a different light.

One of my favorite things about Chemotherapy was spending time with my mom and the women there. Mom would always go on a treat run for me. I would eat candy to displace the taste of medicine in my mouth. We would laugh and talk and it wasn’t all bad.

I often had visitors come with me. One special visitor came to almost every one of my appointments. She is definitely one of God’s angels that came to help me smile, make me feel good and show she cared. I don’t think she will ever know how truly grateful I am for the time she spent with me.

I had a great job while going through treatments where I was able to just sit. And some days that was all I could do. I had professors who allowed me to work on my last few classes long distance so that I could graduate in June. I ordered books and read and wrote papers. Oh, I forgot to tell you that chemotherapy makes it impossible to concentrate and remember what you read. As I look back on what I accomplished during that time of chemotherapy, I know it was because of the many prayers, fasts and simple pleas to my Father in Heaven. God answers prayers.

Race for the Cure

A very special time of year is Mother’s Day. It was this weekend in 2004 that I had an incredible experience at Race for the Cure. I had just received chemo the day before so I was heavily drugged with chemo and anti-nausea medicine.

I don’t remember much about this day, but I do remember the support and love I received. My mom, Hillary, Stephanie, Andrea, Aunt Holly, Melissa, and Mandy all put their white shirts on and then they wrote on a sheet of paper: “In Celebration of Natalie Overson.” I tear up simply thinking about those signs on their shirts.

We walked the mile race and laughed, but didn’t go very fast, because I was slow moving. We hit the finish line and cheered.

After the race, all the survivors met at the tent for the survivor’s parade. I walked with a rose in my hand with hundreds of women surrounding me. We followed a bag-pipe band to a set of steps.

While I was standing there, it was as if time had stopped just briefly and everything was moving slow. I was all alone in a crowd and I felt misplaced until I scanned the faces of the women standing by my side. I did not know any of them, yet I was part of them and they were part of me. The reality that I had breast cancer was clearer than it had ever been. I knew that I would wear pink shirts and race for the cure until the end of my life.

To be continued…

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Cancer Stories

…The Road Less Traveled by Natalie Unga continued.

I had surgery and the tumor and one lymph node were removed. Then I had surgery again and breast tissue and 13 more lymph nodes were removed because that one lymph node had traces of cancer. My cancer had begun to spread throughout my body and it was time to start the chemotherapy.

It was at this point of time that my large support group was formed. Lori Kinghorn and her mother and sisters wanted to do something to support me. So they threw me a chemotherapy shower. The invitation asked everyone to bring something for my “hair raising experience.” I received a small note from everyone who came to wish me well on my journey. I received enough money to buy a very nice wig and enough hats to never go without. The love I felt that night was so intense.

Flowers were sent to my home. The women in Hawaii made an aloha blanket and sent it with lots of love. Chris gave me a blanket with the quote: “Friends are like Angels. You don’t have to see them to know they are there.” A journal was passed around the school and all of my classmates signed it with words of encouragement. The women where I lived wore pink ribbons to church. On Easter Sunday the same women wore hats to show their support for me. My family rallied around me to help me laugh and help me cry.

When I was wheeled into the operating room in January, I looked straight at my mom and said, “Let the fight begin!” How would I lose? I was given wings from all of these angels in my life.

I did not cry until I knew without a doubt I would lose my hair. I remember before I started chemo, I cut off about six inches so that the shock would not be so great. I was in denial that I would really lose my hair. Little did I know that losing my hair would be the best part of my cancer journey.

I learned why we feel the hair on our heads is a defining feature to who we are. Even though I no longer had my hair I was the same person inside. I talked, laughed and even thought the same. (Imagine that.) I gained a confidence in myself because I recognized “Natalie” had so much more to her than her long curly hair. I was also told many times that I had a perfectly shaped head. Just think what I would have never known if I didn’t have this experience.

The process of actually losing my hair was a scary one. Two weeks after my first treatment, my head began to hurt. The next couple days I woke up with hair matted to my pillow. I wore a hat to work and didn’t dare wash it.

Finally, one night, all the girls were at my sister’s house an they began to tease me about my awful comb over. I had lost all the hair right on top of my head. We laughed and laughed as we played with my hair. I finally let friends [take care of it]. Stephanie cut it and Hillary finished it off with the clippers. I had made the choice to let it go and in the end it was a choice that made a difference.

To be continued…

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Cancer Stories

…The Road Less Traveled by Natalie Unga continued.

Coming to terms with the outcome was a difficult challenge, but I felt fairly confident that I would be okay. I called my professors, leaders and friends in Hawaii to explain my situation; they were extremely shocked but more importantly supportive. I called my boyfriend and he immediately came to Utah.

The doctor visits began and the surgery was scheduled. It was not until I met with my oncologist Dr. Wendy Breyer that I realized the extreme consequences of a one centimeter tumor that is rapidly dividing in my body. It was Christmas Eve and I had planned an exciting and cultured day for my boyfriend and me. We went to Dr. Breyer’s office completely unprepared for the news she would share. My mom and I sat in her office while my boyfriend sat in the waiting room. She was firm and direct and basically told me because of my age I would have strong chemotherapy and I would do all the treatments possible. I felt okay about that, until she handed me the Kleenex box and explained that I would lose my long flowing hair and I may never be able to have children. I cried hard for some time. I gathered myself and we walked out to the car.

On our way home, my boyfriend asked me what she had said. I couldn’t get a word out the tears began flowing down my cheeks. I then recounted what she had said. I was crying so hard I was shaking I turned to see his response and I saw the tears swelling in this eyes I became very scared. Scared of losing him, scared f death and scared of change.

That night we went to see the Nutcracker. What a nightmare! We sat in silence watching these people dance around on a stage and all we could hear in our heads was CANCER! Celebrating was the last thing we felt like doing that night.

I told him that I had no expectation of him, that he could walk away at any time and I would understand. He said nothing, but that night he left me a note in my room. It said that he knew that everything was going to be okay and that we would both fight through this trial the Lord had given us.

He became the rock I relied on and the strength that I needed to face my fears. I know that whatever may come our way we will be able to weather the storms. It is clear that the Lord sends people into our lives to guide us down the paths we must travel. I was never alone.

To be continued…

Storybooking is a celebration of life. Celebrate yours today.

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Cancer Stories