Geri Douglas is moving forward

A strong woman will keep her life in order, even with tears in her eyes; she will manage to say, "I'm okay" with a smile.

Life is what you make it...

In 1992, I received news that my friend had breast cancer. My thoughts immediately went to my dearest Aunt Pauline; who had succumbed to the disease in 1969. Remembering how along with my Mother and sisters, visiting her, there she lies, in a hospital bed smiling and full of joy to see us. The atmosphere was not at all somber for she had redirected the entire visit to be about us. Talking about how special we each were, what beautiful young ladies we had all grown to be, and how wonderful it was that we had come all the way from Maine to Connecticut just to visit with her. With that she sent us off to take in a Broadway show, since we nieces had never experienced New York City. Aunt Pauline with all of her knowing decided that life goes on. This event would not only forever define a very fundamental principal; it characterized how I would later relate to my own illness and how I would allow others to relate to my battle with breast cancer.

My friend seemed confident in her decision to have a mastectomy. I visited her at the hospital; she was in a room surrounded by friends and flowers as she lay there in bed with a huge smile on her face. It was as if what had just happened was not a major thing at all. The surgery was over and chemo treatments would follow. With the thinning of her hair, she went out one afternoon and simply bought a wig that resembled her own hair color and style. It all seemed to be so simple, as if it was just a part of normal everyday life.

Life moves forward.

Breast cancer no longer had to be a death sentence. Through my friends experience, awareness came to me, as though a bulb suddenly turned on. I decided it was time to start paying attention; after all there was some family history out there. In late fall of 1992, one day while taking a shower, I decided to try this thing of self-breast examination. "Whoops, is this a lump or just one of those fiber things only bigger?" Unafraid but concerned, it was time to visit the doctor. My first "WOW" moment came when the test result was positive. I had breast cancer. Only a few select people would know. This was all about me, and no, I did not feel the need to discuss my options with anyone. I would decide my treatment, given the information at hand from my surgeon. The very private side of me now came out. The whirlwind began and within days, the surgery for a lumpectomy was over, and I was at home healing quite nicely awaiting the next phase, which would be radiation. How very fortunate I felt. Still having my breast, mostly in tact, (a heavily padded bra will hide this) and not having to take pills or lose my hair. I did not care if I had to get up an hour earlier five days a week to go have radiation therapy before going off to work. This is easy, compared to my friend.

Life moves forward.

In 2006, life had taken me to live in Williamsport, Pennsylvania. The week before my 60th birthday, I had another "WOW" moment. I knew that this lump, in the other breast, was cancer. I questioned the location and course of treatment with the same resolve. My questions became answered when I discovered that the Kathryn Lundy Candor Breast Health Center, was right there in the valley of Williamsport. Breast cancer treatment had made even greater strides since my first diagnosis. There are now numerous tests including BRACA, which I had, to determine if I carried a hereditary gene (which I do not). I had a full right side mastectomy and I had no pain. You read it correctly, no pain! It was a modern miracle; most people just could not fathom what I was telling them. I had drain tubes, a sling, and some physical therapy to regain full range of motion in the right arm. I was not prescribed chemotherapy or radiation and once again, I felt blessed. The surgeon would later share with me that she tried a new procedure, an injection into the chest wall. It was like giving a slow release dose of nova cane to the area. Aren't I just the lucky one? This second round with cancer, I shared my experience with more than just my son and sister. They were not physically with me; I decided I wanted to reach out to my new friends that are all around me. This is a community where, while you are recovering, the neighbors take turns bringing in dinner each day. How great is that? Time is once again on my side. I find a new awareness in making healthier choices. The entire process of growing and eating organic foods and using far fewer chemicals around the house is a huge learning experience for me.

Life moves forward.

In 2009, my life had once again changed, with a move to Louisiana, a new culture to experience, making new friends and a new place to call home. We were occupied with the upcoming wedding of my son. This event was huge in our lives. My health was declining and I was not paying attention to my body other than being aware of the weight loss. In retrospect, the stress level must have been high, and I continued blindly to the point at which my body just shut down one evening while visiting the newly weds in Arlington. A hospital stay and tests gave me no answers. I return home still searching for what could be going on within. Then once again, (it is now 2010, and I am about to turn 64,) my third "Wow" moment. Another self breast exam leaves me questioning whether this could be scare tissue, being more pronounced because I am a bit thinner or could this is cancer and the answer to my health issues. I answered my own question and immediately set out to take charge of what, by all accounts should be my last encounter with breast cancer. How lucky for me that M.D. Anderson is just a couple of hours ride west. Finding a facility that specializes in breast cancer is number one. Visits, test, another pain free mastectomy follow and then comes the shocking news that my surgeon is recommending chemo. For the first time, I cry. It literally took me four weeks to "take it up with myself." It was when I realized that it was not the fear of losing my hair, but excepting the fact, that chemo was going to control my life for months to come. It has and still does and I'm OK. I have survived breast cancer three times. How great is that! I believe in the power of forward thinking. Throughout my journey through life and through cancer, one absolute truth is life always moves forward. The sky still is blue and the birds still sing.

Life moves forward.