I was diagnosed in 1994, just before my 48th birthday. At the time, my beautiful 91-year-old mother was living with us and was suffering with progressive dementia, and I felt as if everything in my life was falling apart.
Now that I'm 15 years out, I prefer to think of myself as a thriver, rather than a survivor. I've done so many things I would have never done had I not had the experience of facing my mortality. I danced with the Devil and stomped on his toes.
If I could provide one piece of wisdom for those embarking on the breast-cancer journey, it would be to focus on healing rather than the illness. Defining ourselves by the disease gives it too much power; more than it deserves.
Some day as we continue to raise money and awareness, the word breast cancer will be an echo in the winds of yesterday.
Portland, OR
