- Nancy and Susan Cohen (left to right)
It gives me great pleasure to give an introduction to www.bondedforever.org’s first cancer survivor story. I first met the author, Nancy Cohen, when I conducted a market research survey for my Bonded Forever bracelet prototypes at her breast cancer support group last winter. I really appreciated all of the feedback and kind words that all of the women in the group expressed. As a reward for all their efforts, I raffled off a set of matching bracelets to one of the market research participants. Nancy Cohan was the lucky winner of the raffle. I will never forget the happy look on her face when I stopped by at another one of her support group meetings to hand deliver her bracelet set. Nancy’s gratitude and excitement truly touched my heart. I was also excited to find out that Nancy planned on giving her matching supporter bracelet to her sister, Susan, who is a breast cancer survivor that currently lives in Norway.
One of Bonded Forever’s main objectives is to help people spiritually give each other hope, support, and love regardless of the physically distance that may hold them apart. I think that it is a good sign that my first Bonded Forever bracelet set is already being worn by two remarkably strong women in two different counties.
I have become pen pals with both Nancy and Susan over the last couple of months and I have really enjoyed their correspondence. I wish them both the very best and I hope that they are able to lead very happy, long, healthy, and cancer-free lives. Susan will be undergoing a prophylactic mastectomy his August, so keep her in your thoughts and prayers!
-Cassandra Hoo, Owner/Founder of Bonded Forever
***
MY FAMILY’S LONG BATTLE WITH CANCER
By Nancy Cohen
I have breast cancer, no, let me correct myself, I had breast cancer, twice. The first time, I was 31-years-old, planning my August wedding. In May 1997, I’d applied for my marriage license in Cape May, New Jersey. I never saw what was coming that evening. Relaxed in our condominium, I felt a hard mass in my left breast; couldn’t be cancer, right? I’d just seen my gynecologist three months earlier and at this point, it was the size of a quarter. “You should see someone,” my husband-to-be said. So I did, the next day. The breast surgeon felt the mass. “Whatever it is, has to come out.” A fine needle biopsy in the office would change my life. A few hours later, the word cancer passed from the surgeon’s lips to my unprepared ears. It felt as though the room suddenly went dark. A wave of fear washed over me and so started six months of treatments; a left breast lumpectomy, axillary node dissection, four cycles of brutal chemotherapy causing severe nausea, diarrhea and weight loss, not to mention total hair loss. Two weeks after my last chemotherapy infusion, I was married to a most amazing individual. I am very fortunate to have had my husband’s support and care throughout this entire ordeal. When we returned from Cape May, I had six weeks of radiation therapy and then back to work as an operating room nurse.
Within a year and a half, my father’s sister and then my sister were diagnosed with breast cancer. Over time, we discovered a compelling family history of breast and ovarian cancers. My father’s grandmother had breast cancer, his aunt died of metastatic ovarian cancer, and many of his cousins had either breast or ovarian cancer. Eleven women in four generations were plagued with these diseases. And yes, we have a genetic mutation, the BRCA1 gene, which may be seen in individuals of Ashkenazic Jewish descent. My father inherited the gene from his mother who’d inherited the gene from her mother. My father died of bladder cancer at 70, and my mother was diagnosed with a rare, aggressive form of Non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma exactly one year later. We could’ve written the book on cancer.
I thought my remaining time on this earth would be cancer-free. After all, I’d undergone bilateral prophylactic mastectomies in 1999, and so I was informed with confidence by all of my physicians that I had nearly, (BUT NOT COMPLETELY) eliminated my risk of developing breast cancer again. There was always that minuscule chance because the surgeon cannot completely remove all of the breast tissue and cells.
Fast forward to October 2011. I was applying shaving gel to my right armpit, one morning. I found a teeny tiny pimple-like structure, which I kept rubbing with my finger, back and forth, back and forth. What was this thing? “It’s nothing, just scar tissue, a remnant from your mastectomies. I’m underwhelmed and I’ll see you back in six weeks,” stated one general surgeon. With all due respect, he was my second opinion. I would definitely consult the breast surgeon who’d been following me for nearly 15 years. She wasn’t “underwhelmed.” In fact, she asked me what I was doing the rest of the day, and made an appointment several hours later for me to see a radiologist for an ultrasound. The radiologist’s response was anything but comforting. She was immediately suspicious and gathered that it was a mass, not a lymph node. She suggested I get it biopsied. I was in utter and total disbelief. But, I’d paid my dues, I thought. I already had breast cancer, NEARLY 15 YEARS AGO! How could this happen again? The results of a fine needle biopsy revealed my biggest fear, indeed it was breast cancer, a brand-new one. Once again, I had surgery to remove the cancer and eight lymph nodes, this time under the right armpit. There was hardly time to heal when I began the first of four cycles of chemotherapy. Oh that dreaded hair loss and fatigue. Then six weeks of radiation therapy to follow. I ended up with second-degree burns under my right armpit, a very sensitive region.
Everything made it worse the second time around. I was in the less than 1% of women who develop this again after bilateral mastectomies. I have a beautiful 11-year-old son who would have to go through this with me. I lost my job as a nurse because I couldn’t bear to work during treatments, which lasted well over 12 weeks. And certainly from both physical and emotional standpoints, the cancer a second time, wreaked havoc on me, on my entire being. I have to go through this torture, again. When does it end? How will it end? When will I find a suitable job as nurse or will I want to remain in nursing? I’ve been knocked off kilter and though I desperately want my life to get back to “normal,” I am forced to adjust to a “new normal.” Now, I pray for my sister, Sue, in Norway who will have to undergo a prophylactic left mastectomy with reconstruction of both breasts sometime in August so she will not suffer a similar fate. Though my mother is battling her own disease, she will visit my sister and assist her with household chores while Sue is convalescing.
Life has been a real struggle for the past 15 years. I just hope I am able to appreciate and enjoy the rich experiences life has to offer and not dwell on the devastating and debilitating diagnoses. I have to learn to cope with my anger and unrest. I have to leave the toxic stuff behind and try to look forward to happier times.
– By Nancy Cohen
Tagged as:
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I love the holidays. It really is the time when I connect with the people who are most important to me to celebrate and carry on our most loved traditions. In 2005, my wife and I celebrated the birth of our daughter in August, and we were thrilled about her first Christmas and Thanksgiving that year. There was so much we wanted to share with our daughter. However, three days before Thanksgiving, Heather was given terrible news.
offered to help us pay for whatever they could afford, and we talked about what we could liquidate for cash to help us through. I was embarrassed and ashamed, and felt like I had failed as a husband and caregiver. Again, I found myself thinking that I had absolutely nothing to be thankful for that year.
