Today I’m turning the blog over to a woman who is shining bright like a diamond during the month of October which is Breast Cancer Awareness Month and American Pharmacists Month.  Dr. Evans is near and dear to me as she was one of my exceptional pharmacy school professors that helped shaped who I am professionaly.  Join me in celebrating the strength of a woman while taking a few minutes of your day to learn about the journey of Dr. Emily Evans as Rx Fitness Lady recognizes National Breast Cancer Awareness Month. 

Expectations of a (mom, wife, daughter, sister, friend, athlete, pharmacist, and  professor) breast cancer survivor

I couldn’t have breast cancer. I was 40. I’d had a normal mammogram just 6 months before. I was one of the healthiest people I knew, exercising every day and eating a diet made up mostly of plants. I’d never been overweight, smoked, or overindulged in alcohol. (Ok, but college doesn’t count!) I had no family history or genetic risks. That lump I found by chance, as I was rubbing on lotion after a shower, was certainly a cyst or something, right?

But, of course, the fact that I’m writing this means I DID have breast cancer.

So here’s my timeline:  I ran my fastest ever half-marathon on October 26, 2019. I was diagnosed with a grade 3 (fast-growing) invasive ductal carcinoma on Halloween. My big kid played Lurch in “Addam’s Family: the Musical” and my little one scored a goal in soccer the following weekend. On November 12th, we got word that my tumor was triple-positive, meaning that estrogen, progesterone, and a protein called HER-2 can all make the cancer grow. I had a bilateral mastectomy with several lymph nodes checked (all negative!) the day before Thanksgiving. I walked a 5K (with my surgeon, so it was clearly ok) on December 8th and had a port placed two days later. I started weekly chemotherapy the Friday before Christmas. I got the really “nasty” chemo for 12 weeks, finishing in March–at around the same time I had to transition to being “teacher” for my two brilliant babies, thanks to COVID-19. In April, I ran a virtual 10K with my favorite running partner (my hubby) and did a virtual duathlon with a good friend. I now get an infusion every 3 weeks that attacks that HER-2 protein, which will last through the end of the year, and a pellet put in my abdomen every 4 weeks to keep my body from producing estrogen or progesterone, which will continue until I go through menopause naturally. And I purchased a stand-up paddleboard in June, and try to get out on the water as often as possible.

I think it’s fair that I fully expected this past year to suck. In fact, my surgeon, who has become a dear friend through this, told me the day after I got diagnosed, “You’re going to have a really sh&^%y year.” And she was right. There has been so much pain, fear, and guilt that I can’t really describe it.

What I didn’t expect was having so very many good days. I walked a 5K two weeks after my surgery, went back to work and all of my mommy-duties around the same time, and started running again before I started chemo. (I’ll never forget crying in fear for nearly all of the three miles I ran with my incomparable husband on the morning I was to have my first treatment.) Once the chemo started, because of the steroids they were pumping into me, there were some days that I was almost manic with energy—cleaning, working out, and playing with my girls. Making the good days even better was the support and love that we received from all of the amazing people in our lives. (Seriously–I’ve never eaten so well in my life!)

So I began to expect the good days instead of the bad, and I will always be grateful that I was given this gift. It also posed a problem, though. Because I often felt well, I expected to pick up my girls from school and take them to their activities…and was having such unpredictable diarrhea that I couldn’t leave the house.  I expected to go to work…and my brain was too foggy from chemo to get anything accomplished. I expected to go for a run…and my joints were so sore that I could barely hobble.  I expected to have some time with my husband after the kids were asleep…and I was so fatigued that I fell asleep sitting up on the couch.

I also fully expected to get done and then move on. But I am 11 months post-surgery and 7 months after finishing the “bad” chemotherapy, and I still have several lingering side effects, like diarrhea, neuropathy and mild anemia, that limit what I do. While most days I am nearly back to my “old” self, there are some days that a walk or easy bike ride with my family is too painful, and sitting at my computer desk for several hours requires me to go take a nap.

It has been so hard, both for me and my family, having no idea what to expect anymore. And I know how it must look to others who have expectations of me, as well… I mean, if I can do a triathlon on a Sunday, why can’t I go pick up my kids on Monday? Why do I need to take a morning off from work on Wednesday? Why can’t I meet my running group on Thursday?

So I’m working to restructure my expectations around grace. I have had to learn to give myself some slack through all of this, and have had to be willing to ask for others’ understanding, as well. My biggest expectation of myself now is that I remember to be grateful for this life and the relationships in it. This has truly been a gift, and I hope that, if you or someone you love is on this journey, you will also be gracious in your expectations.

Thanks so much Dr. Evans for sharing your journey thus far with us.  Your words have blessed me and they are truly enlightening and serving of the community by raising awareness.  It has been an honor to have you here today and I am grateful that you took the time to share and as always, EDUCATE the people!