Heaven can wait

By Mary Kazeck, 49, of Lexington

On July 16, 2007, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I think at first total denial sets in, at least for the first few minutes. Then you hear the doctor saying the words surgery, chemotherapy, radiation.

Everything is in slow motion, the words echoing in your mind, and then it hits you: You have cancer. The one word feared throughout the world. You have now begun the battle of your life.

My tumor was large. The doctors wanted to do chemotherapy first, to shrink it before even thinking of surgery. And they were moving fast. It was a whirlwind of appointments, almost daily at first. In a few short weeks, I began my chemo treatments.

My mind raced with thoughts my husband, my sister, my son and my pride and joy, my new grandson. How will they all cope with this? How will I cope with this?

The first week of August, I started chemotherapy. I donÂt think IÂve ever been more scared of anything than I was of that IV bag they were about to hang. With a flip of the nurseÂs finger, it had started. Here we go  treatment number one underway.

I learned over those first few weeks that when I was uncertain and scared, it was good to think of my grandson. My first grandchild, he would be turning 1 year old in a short time. And I felt determined to see him grow up. He gave me the physical and mental strength to get through this.

I was fortunate not to have any vomiting or nausea with the chemotherapy, and except for a few days off after each treatment, I was able to work. It was very important to me to continue my normal lifestyle. And work is a big part of our lives, as well as a good way to keep the mind occupied.

The support I found at work was amazing. Everyone helped me through my bad days. They laughed with me, and cried with me. They were there for me at work and after work. They kept an eye on me, and sent me home a few times when I really was not feeling too hot.

I always smiled and said "IÂm fine," until one of my friends said she was going to buy me a T-shirt that said "No really, IÂm, fine." ThatÂs what I always claimed, whether or note it was true.

I found a lot of courage through my friends. They gave me hope. Even when I felt like giving up, they pushed me forward. They also reminded me often that not only is cancer treatable, it is beatable. So that is where I set my sights: to beat it. To be a survivor. I was not ready to die. It was not an option.

ItÂs amazing how everyone around you becomes your support. Total strangers will become friends and walk with you through your journey, turning into lifelong friends you will cherish forever.

I was blessed through all of this to have my husband by my side. He went to every doctorÂs appointment and treatment with me. He keeps strong and courageous and never complains when he has to run to the store for my "chemo cravings." I have never seen him sad or doubtful. If he was afraid, he never showed it.

He even helped me shave my head when my hair started falling out. Chemo gives a new definition to a bad hair day.

He definitely showed me love. If he can love me like that, at my total worst, I know heÂll always love me.

And thereÂs my sister, my friend, the one whose heart broke when I told her I had breast cancer from 2,000 miles away. She was to become my number one strength. From Fort Worth, Tex., she boarded a plane to Portland as soon as she could to help me through my battle.

Having no family history of breast cancer, it was a shock to be told I had it. But doctors say most women diagnosed with it have no family history. My sister flew up here, and brought me my first Susan G. Komen "Race for the Cure" T-shirt. She knew I had a long road ahead of me and she intended to be there every step of the way. She was; she still is.

Those of us who go through cancer treatment find strength in many different ways.

I keep a journal, and I hope to get published one day to help other women who go through breast cancer. I want to let them know itÂs OK to be mad. ItÂs OK to be angry, and itÂs OK to cry.

Put on your sweats, close the curtains, put in a movie and have some quiet time for yourself. The world will still be there in a few hours.

I had eight chemotherapy treatments, surgery, and then six weeks of radiation. I was very lucky that my cancer had not spread to my lymph nodes. I finished my treatments in April, and am happy to say IÂm cancer free.

I will continue to see my doctors at the cancer center every three months for two years, to be sure it doesnÂt come back. I donÂt worry about it. Although itÂs normal to notice every ache and pain you have, life does eventually return to normal.

I went to the Relay for Life last summer here in Longview, and I was excited to see all the cancer survivors. When people are 10- or 20-year cancer survivors, you know thereÂs hope. You just have to see it, and meet other survivors, to know youÂre not alone.

I recently found out I am going to be a grandma again. I find I have a lot to look forward to and a great life ahead. I have faith I will be around for many years. HeavenÂs going to have to wait.