- April 25, 2024
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1.
It was a typical September morning in 2007 in New Jersey. I was reading the Saturday newspaper with my morning coffee.
I will never forget those four words, as my wife came out of the bathroom saying, “I found a lump.”
I stood up and hugged her and promised her we would get through this together. Inside, I felt helpless, but never showed it. The rest of the weekend was long and felt so destitute.
Monday morning Marguerite called the radiology center. As it was two weeks before Breast Cancer Awareness Month, there were no appointments until early November. My wife cried and pleaded over the phone with the receptionist.
They would squeeze her into the schedule the next morning.
That was when my wife heard the other four words from the radiologist: “You have breast cancer.”
I wouldn’t cry in front of my wife. I was the husband; I had to be strong and reassuring. You know, the “man” of the house. However, I cried while I was driving to work every morning.
Here I am, her husband of over 20 years; we would always work out our problems together. But this time I could do nothing except reassure her and talk positively.
It was soon after that, when I began my self-paced crash-course education on breast cancer. Be it a magazine, a newspaper article, or the Internet, I began reading all I could on the subject matter.
The more I read, the more comfortable I felt. Treatment had come a long, long way in only 15 or 20 years. Breast cancer was no longer a “death sentence.” Some people I spoke with felt troubled the more material they read.
When I told people my wife is being treated for breast cancer, almost everyone I spoke to knew of someone who is or was a breast cancer patient. Many had survived, some were still being treated, and only a few had died from the disease.
Telling my family about Marguerite’s condition was very difficult. I would call up my sister and husband, and my brother and sister-in-law, and just cry as I told them about her.
I hardly ever cry in my adult life, but this was a new experience for me, and not a very pleasant one. I was not dealing with it very well at all.
Marguerite went through all the usual tests, biopsies, examinations, which led up to a lumpectomy in late October.
2.
On our way home from the hospital (same day surgery), after the lumpectomy, we were about a mile from the hospital. A car cut us off, we hit the side of his car, and thank God no one was injured. However, I decided to take Marguerite back to the hospital emergency room, just to make sure the accident did not cause any further damage. After a four-hour visit Marguerite was released. Our second trip home was uneventful.
The lumpectomy did not yield clean margins. Marguerite had to go through a second lumpectomy.
The second operation did yield clean margins. However, the lymph nodes proved the cancer was traveling, and it was an aggressive cancer, at that.
Marguerite enrolled in a breast cancer support group. The women all had various stages of cancer. They were also in various steps of their treatments. Most of the women were very optimistic.
After the second lumpectomy, it was onto chemotherapy, followed by radiation treatments.
Marguerite’s oncologist told her she would lose all her hair during chemotherapy. Marguerite said that losing her hair was her worst fear. I told Marguerite, if losing your hair is your worst fear, you have almost nothing else to worry about.
Marguerite cut her hair real short when chemotherapy began. This was to emotionally prepare herself for having no hair. She had purchased two wigs and several scarves. She was in very good spirits throughout the entire treatment process.
I took Marguerite to all her chemotherapy treatments. She became sick on only two occasions. They now add anti-nausea formula into the chemotherapy treatments. I was feeling better, knowing she was taking her treatments in stride and so bravely.
Marguerite’s primary physician even remarked to her that he could not imagine how she went through the surgeries and all the treatments.
Now I know why women can handle pain so much better than men can. Marguerite became my hero for enduring all this pain and the treatments. I freely told her I could never go through all that she had gone through.
Being a breast cancer survivor is like reading a suspense novel with no ending. You just move from one chapter to the next. The “chapters” representing the scheduled mammograms and any other follow up tests recommended.
In the spring of 2008, New Jersey had its first breast cancer walk. We had a very uplifting, inspiring morning.
3.
Gloria Gaynor was on stage, singing, “I Will Survive,” as all the survivors surrounded her on stage. Marguerite blended in with the other women who filled the entire stage.
In September 2008, I gave Marguerite a surprise first-year survivor party. It was a great brunch with family, medical technicians and close friends. It was emotional, but very enjoyable.
After two years as a survivor in September 2009, a tiny lump was found on Marguerite’s right breast. A series of tests were performed. The lump was dismissed.
But this is how you live with breast cancer. It is a long road to reach the “happily ever after” at the end of this story.
Instead, Marguerite will continue to go for the scheduled mammography and oncology visits, and sonograms, MRI’s, or whatever other tests they schedule for her. When each test is completed, and you get good news, that is your “happily ever after.” But you enjoy the good news and live life the best you can. The cancer may never return. That is all we can hope for.
But if it does return, we’ll be ready for it. Marguerite beat it once, and she’ll beat it again.
On a Monday night in September 2010, Marguerite had dinner with five members of her support group. She and three women are doing well, but one is struggling. We all pray for her and just hope she improves. This is what the group is all about.
In June 2011, we moved to Palm Coast. Marguerite found a primary physician and one of the best doctors for breast cancer, Dr. Sai.
September 2011 was Marguerite’s fourth anniversary as a survivor. I am getting ready to make plans for her all-important fifth-anniversary celebration.
Wishing all the breast cancer survivors all the very best that modern medicine has to offer, especially at Florida Hospital Flagler.
Thomas Sisti
