by Kelly Dillon

It is what every piece of literature you’ve read or infomercial you’ve seen or Doctor has ever told you to look for since you were in your early twenties…a small, round, firm lump.

This is where my journey began; 7 days after my 40^th birthday I became a statistic, where one in seven women OR men get Breast Cancer.  I was diagnosed with Stage II breast cancer on August 12, 2008.  Healthy, active and no family history.  My first thought was of my children…Would I get to see Michael, 9, pitch in the Big Leagues?  Would I get to see Claudia, 8, become the world’s greatest International Ambassador?  And Hayley, 6, become the first red-headed astronaut to build aqueducts on Mars? Yes, a bit over the top, but I am a mom first.

The information highway came next…3 weeks’ worth of reading everything we could get our hands on; doctors, doctors and more doctors; second opinions and third opinions; needles scans and more needles!  I am a “fixer” by nature (tests do confirm!) so wandering around for 3 weeks not doing anything about this “tumor” lodged in my breast was more than I could handle.  I wanted to make a decision and do it NOW.  But, as anyone who has run across this monster will tell you, “Everyone is different”.  THAT is the understatement of the year.

By September 12^th, one month from diagnosis, I was in the operating room having a bi-lateral mastectomy with breast reconstruction.  Five hours later, I was feeling like a Mac truck hit me, stayed for awhile and then drove off VERY slowly.  Recovery was the easy part I found out.  What entered my world next was mind-blowing…CHEMOTHERAPY. Another dreaded “C” word.

We spent the next 3 weeks while I recovered from surgery immersing ourselves in everything we could find on this treatment and its side-effects.  It is the ugly stick of medicine; a necessary evil for cancer survivors to decrease our chances of recurrence and to give us a more strengthened life-line in the future.  My first treatment was the day following The Race for the Cure last year.  Fifty-Three of my closest friends walked with my family to support The Cure.  I was at the top of my game, mentally, when I walked into the chemo clinic on that Monday morning to start the 5 hour “Chemo Cocktail”.  Six radical and aggressive treatments and four months later, I emerged a “new woman”.  No hair and a little weak, but still able to ski with my kids!

But, the “Preventative Maintenance” (as I like to call it) didn’t stop there.  I had surgery 2 weeks later to have my expanders removed and my implants put in.  A few weeks after that recovery I started 7 weeks of radiation therapy.  Although necessary, it is extremely a pain in the backside (not where they radiated!)  A seven-minute procedure that takes 2 ½ hrs with drive time involved!  My carbon footprint was very bad for those 7 weeks.  During this daily task, I also went back in for a full hysterectomy!  They had found a dermoid on one of my ovaries at the beginning of my diagnosis and decided that it was time to do something about it.

Luckily in mid-April of this year, I was finally able to stop going to hospitals, clinics, etc.  I now go in for testing every three months until they release me for a longer period of time.  This disease teaches you many lessons in life – the largest for me was to believe in myself, learn to accept support graciously, and be confident in the team you choose to “save” your life.  I was lucky to be able to hand-pick my team and lean on them for guidance and support throughout this process.  My family and friends were and continue to be my “rock” and I will always love them for that.