I found out that I had breast cancer at age 37. When I first noticed a hardened knot in my left breast, I thought it was nothing. My sister had had a similar lump, had it checked out and it was just a fibrous cyst, so I assumed it was going to be the same way with me. Besides, there was no history of breast cancer in my family, so I figured I was safe—which is a mistake a lot of people make.
1 month later, after the lump wasn’t going away and actually getting bigger, I got a little concerned about it. My nurse practitioner wasn’t sure if I should be worried, but as a precaution, she scheduled a mammogram.
I wasn’t worried that it was cancer, though. I was most fearful of having to have whatever this “cyst thing” was removed, which meant being stuck with a needle. I was terrified of needles since the time I was very young.
So on March 8, 2004, I went in for a mammogram. I figured 1-2-3 and I’d be done with it. But after having the mammogram completed, the doctor told me he wanted me to follow up the next morning for a biopsy.
I still didn’t have worries about me getting breast cancer. In my mind, that only happened to people “out there somewhere,” but not me. It had to be something else. Even though I could see the look of worry and concern on the face of the nurse standing next to the doctor, I chose to brush it off.
Looking back on it now, I think I was too nervous about what the alternative could be. As I walked to my car, I told myself, “I’m healthy, active, never smoked or drank and I’m young. This is not cancer LaShawn.”
I was wrong. It was cancer: stage 2.
I had to have surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation and I got so sick.
The normal jovial person that I usually am was replaced with a feeble, sad, sickly woman. I couldn’t keep anything down. I thought I was dying many days and had never felt so awful in my entire life. I was devastated when I lost my hair.
I thought I wasn’t beautiful anymore and that I would not recover.
It was hard year, but I made it!
One of the poems that got me through was sent to me on a plaque by my Grandmother Grace.
I still read it and hold it dear to my heart.
It says:
Cancer is so limited...
It cannot cripple love.
It cannot shatter hope.
It cannot corrode faith.
It cannot eat away peace.
It cannot destroy confidence.
It cannot kill friendship.
It cannot shut out memories.
It cannot silence courage.
It cannot reduce eternal life.
It cannot quench the Spirit.
I now read this same poem to hundreds of women diagnosed with breast cancer as a volunteer with organizations that help breast cancer patients through their treatment.
