Nine years ago this month I recall looking at myself in the mirror and assessing the situation: I was bald. My memory was spotty. I sat down a lot more than I stood up. And I had these crazy, stop-men-in-their-tracks “Fembot” boobs (called spacers) implanted in my chest to help stretch my healing skin and tissue in preparation for breast reconstruction later that fall.

I was done with chemo. I was cancer free. But I knew I still had a lot more fight ahead of me in terms of reconstruction, rehabilitation, re-establishing my career and rebuilding a relationship with my son.

I also knew I would be forever vigilant against recurrence: I would have to see surgeons and oncologists annually for the rest of my life. From there on out, I would be on the defensive against this insidious disease.

That’s when it occurred to me: I am not a “survivor.” I am a WARRIOR. The “Battle of ’06” had been hard-fought — AND I WON. But I realized, then, that cancer survivors aren’t really survivors until they die at a very old age of something other than cancer.

I mean, Holocaust survivors, tsunami survivors, car-crash survivors — they all SURVIVED because the threat ended and they lived to tell about it.

But we cancer patients, for the rest of our lives, are always on the lookout for the next threat. We monitor ourselves, fight for others, and we maintain a dim awareness that we must be prepared for the next potential battle.

Emerging From the Deep, Dark Woods of Triple-Negative

At the five-year mark, I was told I was “out of the woods.” The type of cancer I had, “triple negative,” was a new discovery about the same time I was sick, and it was determined that the first five years were the most dangerous for recurrence. It was a relief for all of us that I’d passed that milestone.

And, honestly, aside from annual October/Breast Cancer Month activities, my attention toward breast cancer grew further and further from my mind as life went on. I’ve lived, loved, worked, played and helped my son through some treacherous teenage years. Yet, each year, I’ve seen a doctor — reminding me that I’m still counted among the ranks in this battle.

This year, I switched doctors. My new commander-in-chief told me that, over these past nine years, further discoveries have been made about triple-negative breast cancer. She suggested I do a genetics test to see if I had any of these newfound markers.

Of course, I agreed. I am a WARRIOR, after all. And as such, it’s important to do a threat assessment whenever new information is delivered from the front lines.

Turns out that, for me, the threat is real.

Again.

The BC Wars, Part II

I have a previously unknown genetic mutation that leads to breast and ovarian cancer. It’s called BRIP1 and it’s new enough that it’s not easily Googled. What is known is that I was unwittingly wise to have had my unaffected breast removed nine years ago as a prophylactic measure.

It also means that I have a very high likelihood of contracting ovarian cancer — a disease that’s virtually impossible to test for until it’s too late. And so, a week from now, I’ll be undergoing a procedure to remove my ovaries and fallopian tubes as a precautionary/preventative counterstrike.

It’s a relatively simple outpatient procedure. I’m hopeful recovery will be swift, so we can return to our preferred state of détente. I would much rather concentrate on family, friends and new job opportunities.

I intend to be healthy enough to participate in all the upcoming “pink month” activities — including our Making Strides walk on October 24^th. At that event, I’ll join Lana Gates at the so-called “survivor” table to get our special swag, and I’ll cringe just a little bit at the term the world uses to define those of us who have lived through our breast cancer battle — or battles.

Because We Are WARRIORS

I know, and am LIVING PROOF, that when someone is diagnosed with cancer, it means ALL-OUT WAR. I am well armed. And I will continue to fight this good fight.

I hope you will, too. Keep me, and everyone you’ve ever known who’s been impacted by cancer, in your thoughts. I am so grateful for my family, friends, colleagues and caregivers and am forever in your debt.

But we all must be aware that this war isn’t over yet. It’s hard to think about ending cancer forever — when we can’t yet get a grip on the myriad causes. So, I am grateful for ongoing research and treatments, too.

That’s why I hope you’ll consider supporting our Making Strides team, “Long Live the Girls.” Walk with us, buy a t-shirt or simply donate a few dollars.

I support the American Cancer Society because it helps fund our wars against these deadly diseases; because it provides the ammunition and support we need to ensure that we live long, blissful and constructive lives — so that one day, after we’ve left this earth on our own terms, we can truly be called cancer “survivors.”

---

Get involved!! Purchase your HOT(pink) 2015 Long Live the Girls T-shirt and/or get involved in our Making Strides event.