Lucky Patterns

I have had Inflammatory Breast Cancer.  Even four years afterward part of me still doesn’t feel free of it.   I guess most of me has moved on, though.

One in eight women will get breast cancer.  That’s roughly 12.5 women out of every 100.  Only 5 percent of all those women with breast cancer will have IBC.  It’s an exclusive club you don’t want to belong to…  Yet I am becoming more and more aware of repeating patterns of Inflammatory Breast Cancer association.

When I was first worrying about all the changes happening in my breast and beginning the cluster of appointments that would lead to my diagnosis, my new bff told me that I had a Get Out of Cancer Free card.  Her previous bff had died of breast cancer just a few years earlier and she believed “God wouldn’t do that to her twice.”  Heh.  Of course, I was diagnosed despite her assurances.  We spent many long phone conversations rehashing her friend’s symptoms, illness and death.  We came to believe that she had most likely also had IBC.

In August I met Kelly soliciting donations in front of Wal Mart for her Avon Walk for Breast Cancer.  She was walking Santa Barbara.  I gave her a small donation and she handed me a pamphlet on IBC.  I was more than a little surprised.  Not many know about Inflammatory Breast Cancer.  “Who had IBC?”, I asked her.  Turns out her mother had died in only 18 months after her diagnosis.  When she found out I’d had IBC she seemed stunned.  Her voice quieted as she told me that she’d never met an Inflammatory Breast Cancer survivor before.

Wow.  It was a poignant moment for me.  I still remember quite clearly finding the Survivor Stories online.  They were so very encouraging… but also very old.  At the time I don’t think there was a post newer than 3 years old.  I couldn’t help but wonder if any of those women were still alive.  Kelly’s admission gave me a rush of emotions.  Pride – that I’d beaten the beast and could stand there to tell about it.  Sadness – that there are so few IBC survivors.  And happiness that I was able to raise a living, active voice above the silence of lost women.

Ironically, Kelly knew her mother had IBC because her bff’s mother had also had it.  Am I the only one that wonders at the mysteries and coincidences of the universe?

Fast forward to this week when Kelly & I helped our local morning news anchor with a story on IBC.  Here’s the video if you’re interested. Please listen to the symptoms.  Most of all, tell the other women in your life about them, too.  Kelly knew the symptoms from listening to her friend talk about her mother, though she’s not sure if she ever shared them with her own mother.  I knew something was wrong before diagnosis but delayed talking to anyone about it until it was almost too late.

I’m one of the lucky ones.

Cross-posted to I Can’t Complain Any More Than Usual

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2 Responses to Lucky Patterns

  1. Hello,
    My name is Tracey, I had breast cancer 2 years ago, and I have found it to be a journey of discovery. I am happier than I have ever been. I live in the now not in the what if and rejoice everyday I spend with my Husband and Children. It is a hard journey to travel both mentally, physically, and spiritually. The problem with Cancer is you have to find your own way, there is not a Doctor or book that can tell you how to cope with it. I wrote a book about my experience, I am not sure but I might blog it. I have discovered a love of writing and after my first book called “How Breast Cancer coped with me,” I am writing a novel, nothing to do with Cancer. I was 37 years old when I was diagnosed. I have had an article published in a magazine about Cancer, and I will shortly post it on my blog. I find everything in life is about your perspective which sometimes takes it’s time to formulate.

  2. Liane says:

    Hi,
    My mother-in-law was diagnosed with what we now believe to be IBC in 1992. She survived and thrived. 4 1/2 years ago at the same age (45)she was, I was diagnosed with TNBC. I have not had a recurrance. Yesterday I donated my wig, some never worn prosthetic breast forms, and some virgin (never dyed or permed) hair that my daughter had collected, to our local Cancer Society. I finally felt that someone else might need these items more than me. My 19 year old daughter chose to follow a career in hairdressing, in part I think because of my cancer. She could see the power she held in her hands. She transformed my new growth, chemo ravaged gray and curly mop into something more resembling my former healthy self when I was her guinea pig at the school. My poor husband has had to process this twice in his life now. But he too has survived. We need to find a cure for this disease!

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