I was diagnosed with breast cancer on November 3rd 1998.  My sons were 3-1/2 years and 9 months old.  At the time of my diagnosis I was working as a post-doctoral fellow in a tumor immunology lab, so when the surgeon called and told me that I had 11 positive lymph nodes, I knew I was in trouble, and immediately fell apart. Welcome to the other side of cancer, instead of looking through that microscope, I was now under it.  My husband, an engineer, read the brochure that the doctor gave us and thought  I would be fine.  And the arguments began.  My logical intelligent side needed him to understand that the end of my life would probably come sooner than later, and that we needed to discuss my death  and how it would effect him and our sons.  He wouldn't hear of it, and thought we had time.  I has statistics and medical facts running though my head all the time and soon the chemo began running through my blood.

I wasn't  sure if he was in denial or if he had some sort of instinct that I wouldn't die soon or if actually believed that damn brochure. The statistics were very grim for me because of the extensive lymph node involvement.  He remained very practical, going to work everyday and taking care of the boys.  We had no family living close by and depended upon our church and friends to help us out.  Often he was reluctant to ask for help for me and I had to force him to make phone calls.  He was always very positive and believe it or not it drove me crazy.  I thought for a long time he was insensitive to my feelings, but I came to realize that he just needed to feel that we had some sort of control over our lives, and that he wanted to keep things as normal as possible for our sons.

I went through several months of chemotherapy, and experimental high dose chemotherapy with a stem cell transplant that required hospitalization.  He worked through all of this and I reluctantly agreed that we needed to be financially practical.  He did enlist an uncle to drive me back and fourth everyday to the hospital but I ran after the boys during the day as best as I could.

It didn't bother him that I chose not to wear a wig,and that my body was now deformed.  He encouraged me to spend the extra money we didn't have at the health food store.  We'll juice our way out of this was the plan!! He never balked when I asked him to come  with me to healing services at different churches, even though I am much more religious than him. He didn't understand why I needed to read medical journals late into the night but he left me alone when I did.  I went though menopause in 24 hours and he probably deserves saint hood for sticking that out with me.

I would say that he won me over to his way of thinking, and taught me how to be calm in the storm. My mother died from breast cancer when I was going through chemotherapy and her death left us orphans, we became more of a unit . I probably could not have made some of the decisions that needed to be made, and looking back over that turbulent time, I am glad that he was my rock.  A true diamond he is to me, today and always.

It will be ten years survival November 3rd,  it has been a gift from God to watch my sons grow and a privilege to be married my husband.  Although we have been married for 14 years, we probably know each other better than some people who have been married 50 years.

You have to fall to rise, and it is good to have someone that loves you dearly share the journey.