On October 28, 2020 I had a breast biopsy following an abnormal mammogram. Several days later I discovered via My Chart medical record that my results were malignant. I officially had breast cancer. A few weeks later lumpectomy was performed to have the cancerous tumor removed. My treatment options were discussed and the initial plan was to have radiation, chemo and regular check ups. Subsequently the pathology report returned with a diagnosis of Triple-Negative Breast Cancer (TNBC). Everything changed, radiation was no longer necessary, I would have additional surgeries. My body would be cut, sutured, stretched, slow to heal and result in the discomfort I feel to this day.

I don’t recall exactly how I initially felt when I read the results; maybe I was just numb. I did immediately have thoughts of my family, how it would impact each of them. I am the eldest of five, mother of two, grandmother of three, cousin of several clans and sister-friend to many. I am blessed to have a large extended village of loving people in my life. I knew that this diagnosis would be shocking for all and cause fear in others. So before I disclosed the diagnosis I took some time to really think about and identify what I was feeling and what I might need. Well I had no way of knowing I would experience such a wide range of intense emotions. I did not know that I would have to undergo four surgeries. I knew I would certainly need support and prayers.

My medical care team which consisted of my PCP, Oncologist, OB-GYN, breast surgeon and plastic surgeon all agreed on the evidence base practice of treatment. Through consultations and my own research I quickly learned Triple-Negative Breast Cancer differs from other types of invasive breast cancer in that it tends to grow and spread faster, has fewer treatment options and tends to have a poor prognosis. Because TNBC is aggressive, so was my treatment.

My oncologist took the time to explain to my family the course of treatment and possible side effects. My family was given information to read and the opportunity to ask questions. The treatment plan was developed and I was confident I could be 100% compliant with the support of my family that were committed and ready to accompany me to doctors visits, chemo treatments and other medical procedures. The fact that all of this occurred during the height of COVID was an added concern given my compromised immune system. My family put a protocol in place to protect me including vaccines, boosters and getting regularly tested. We limited visitation to only a few extended family/friends that were also following these protocols. 

One of my saddest periods during this time was not being able to attend my sister’s wedding. I was thankful for technology, I got to FaceTime from the comfort and safety of my home.

Survivors and their loved ones are right when they say “cancer sucks” I simply just wanted to get through it, be done, have it all behind me. I was fortunate because early detection allowed me to start the treatment to prevent the cancer progression. My first round of chemo was followed by an episode of tremendous bone pain and I was ready to quit. I shared my fears with my family. My family was sympathetic and understanding, they lovingly encouraged me to stay the course. I called the oncologist and was informed there was an injection that would help me tolerate this particular side effect. I would have to return for the injection within 24 hours of my chemo treatment following each of the remaining treatments/rounds. I was grateful that there was some relief.
I was grateful for the nurses that flushed and administered the medications as gently as they could through my port. The thing I disliked the most was having to sit in the cold hospital room for two hours. I had become numb to the probing and puncturing of my body, the weighing in, the disrobing and exposing of private parts for examination. I was able to regain some sense of autonomy when my daughter gifted me with clothing that allowed easy access to my port. Seems like such a small thing but when you are feeling so vulnerable small things make a big difference and for me it was those garments.

I was fortunate that I did not experience nausea, my taste buds were super sensitive, everything was either too salty or too sweet, but my family made sure I had everything I thought I could tolerate. My sister would bring/prepare various meals hoping something would be satisfying. I, unlike so many others with breast cancer, did not lose weight, I actually gained pounds. I did however eventually started to lose my hair. It was after my third round of chemo that I noticed my hair was coming out in big clumps leaving patches. I initially had it colored and wore it in a short natural Afro, that is when it wasn’t covered up by head wraps or knit caps. When the clumps turned to bald spots I made the decision to have it all cut off. This was a particularly emotional moment in time for me, not because of the hair loss. It was having my daughters, sister and granddaughter each taking a turn using hair clippers to lovingly shave my head. I felt cared for in a way I hadn’t before. I will always treasure that evening.
As I reflect on my breast cancer journey I am keenly aware that each survivor’s journey is special and unique. I know there are many who walk this path alone, many that experience excruciating pain, many that have no medical insurance and many that do not win the battle. I and my village have intentionally decided we want to help some of those women and their families get through with a little less worry and little more comfort. What started as a way for my family to mark our victory - No More Chemo has grown into annual Pink for Pank Breast Cancer Awareness Walks.

I am so grateful for your ongoing support in our efforts to raise awareness, advocate for and provide assistance to Breast Cancer survivors.

Together we ARE making a difference.
 
GOD’s Blessings,

-“Pank”