Pink Ribbon Stories: A Celebration of Life. Tammy Miller
will respond to any given situation in life. I pray that you will embrace every second of your life and that your path will always be blessed!
Thoughts on this book project…
For a few years I thought about doing a compilation book with stories from other people, but the time and topic just didn’t seem right. That is until I heard Christine Allen talk about her story of keeping silent about her breast cancer for over 30 years for fear of losing her job in the 1970’s (her story is in this book). I know that breast cancer has changed immensely over the years as far as detection, treatment, and recovery, but I sat there and listened and thought about how the mental part of a diagnosis has changed. Has it really changed? I don’t think so. I am sure that anytime in history that a woman (or man) heard a breast cancer diagnosis; there was immediate fear and uncertainty. Yes, we do know now that the outlook is better than it was 30 years ago, and early detection, new medicines and procedures have helped immensely, but there is still a fear in many hearts and heads.
I sat there and started to think about how other things have changed over the years and that is when the idea of Pink Ribbon Stories: A Celebration of Life was born! A “celebration” you might ask? Did you notice that one of the lessons above was to celebrate the smallest victories (or ideas)? Okay, I admit it, I love to laugh and have a good time. Ready for a party to celebrate getting a new pair of shoes just call me!!
I was hopeful that I could get at least 50 women and men to share their stories as a survivor or caregiver or medical assistant. WOW!!! I never expected to have a completed book with over 120 stories!! In a small twist of faith – yes, faith, or maybe a little quirky, whenever I see a number that is in order like 234, or 456, etc., I always send up a little prayer of thanksgiving for the many blessings in my life. If you take the time to count the number of people who have a story featured here, there are… 123!!! Some days, I thought my e-mail was going to explode! I also firmly believe this may just be the first edition of a series, who knows!
There are all kinds of stories in this book. I am certain that something here will resonate with every reader. For some of the stories I should probably issue a “tissue warning”, and for others a laughter warning, just Depends – yes, the pun IS intended!! There are stories that will warm your heart; make you laugh; cause you to pause for reflection; sometimes make you a bit angry; and others that simply tell a story of a courageous woman’s journey through life.
I have noticed a few similar themes. Many of the stories share a faith in God, or other beliefs in the Power of the Universe. For some it is a renewed faith, for others a new found faith.
There are themes of the strength found in family and friends. How vitally important it is to surround yourself with people who care. There are a few reminders that we never have to go through this alone. If you don’t relate to God or a higher power, we are also reminded that breast cancer affects many, many people, and there is always someone willing to reach out a hand of support – sometimes we just have to ask!
Another theme that emerged was a theme of thankfulness that cancer touched our lives, in fact some call it a gift. This may sound strange but there are many stories included that talk about a cancer diagnosis being the push needed to remind us of what and who are really important in our lives. In this hustle and bustle of life, which seems to get faster everyday, some people now look upon their lives in a different way because of cancer; a slower, more peaceful way.
Whichever story you find as your favorite, I pray that every person reading this book is touched by the stories and words that are written here to encourage, inspire, and make us smile!
For me, I pray that God blesses your path always and that your journey is somehow helped by a story or two in this book.
Thank you for the opportunity you have given me to collect these stories from these incredible people, and thank you for your support in reading along! May you always celebrate every moment, every detail of your life!
Blessings to you always and all ways!
Tammy
Author’s Note: The next section of the book includes stories from those closest to me while I was traveling the journey to recovery. They include my mother, Ruth, my youngest daughter, Lacey, my dear “Pinky Swear” friend, Mary and one of my best clown friends, Anita. From that point, the stories are alphabetical, but include some family connections, as noted in the stories. Read on and be blessed!!
I have also sprinkled a few “funnies” throughout the book. If you find a quote on a person’s page, it does not necessarily reflect the
opinion of that author…just a place to add some fun…
From a Mom’s/Nurse’s Point of View
Ruth Miller
“Mom - I have breast cancer”.
With those five words my world stood still as I was instantly transported over 40 years back to the time when I was a young nursing student. The dreaded “cancer” word was one that was only whispered among nursing personnel and NEVER mentioned in front of a patient. In fact, the diagnosis of cancer was not even listed anywhere on the patient chart. Diagnosis was listed in “code” as 31. The 3 was for the third letter of the alphabet – C, and the 1 was for the first letter of the alphabet – A. Thus, the 31 code informed all the medical personnel that the patient had cancer. Many times the patient did not even know! Many physicians were reluctant to even tell the patient she had cancer.
As a nursing student and later as a Registered Nurse, whenever I picked up a patient chart with the “31” diagnosis, a feeling of despair settled over me. I knew that patient was in for a long, debilitating surgery and for an even longer, painful recovery from surgery.
For twelve years of my nursing career I worked in the Recovery Room, which is now called the Post Anesthesia Recovery Room or PACU. I had the opportunity to see and talk to the patient before she, (almost all breast cancer patients were women then), was taken back to the operating room for surgery. I also had the responsibility of taking care of the same woman when she was wheeled into the Recovery Room.
When the patient was brought to the Recovery Room I knew her life had been changed forever! Her family members -husband, children, parents, and siblings were affected as well. They tiptoed into the room to visit and you could almost hear a pin dropped in the room – no one wanted to discuss that dreaded disease with the woman. Why, you might ask? At that time, a cancer diagnosis and surgery meant the woman usually did not survive past the golden window of “five years”.
I remember looking at her chart prior to surgery and saw that she had signed consent to have a “frozen section” and a “radical mastectomy”. This meant that while she was still under anesthesia a small section of tissue would be removed and examined under a microscope and if cancer cells were seen, both breasts would be removed along with part of the pectoral muscle, as well as the axillary lymph nodes. Even to this day, I do not believe she knew exactly what she was signing the consent for the surgeon to remove! Her first reaction once she was awake was to instinctively reach to see if her breast or breasts were there. The size of the dressings and bandages gave her some idea of what had happened while she was under anesthesia.
If she had a radical mastectomy her awareness, or perhaps it was denial, returned slowly. You could see the fear in her eyes and almost know the questions forming in her mind. “Now what is going to happen to me? How bad was the cancer? How long do I have to live? Will my husband still love me without my womanhood (breasts)? Will I still be pretty, sexy, normal?”
My job as a Recovery Room Nurse was to assure her, (even though I did not have the answers to those questions), that every woman was different and I felt that with the help of her family those concerns and questions would be answered in time.
Usually the day after surgery, and if time allowed, I would go to the room and visit the patient to see how she was doing. Many times when I entered the room, I found her sitting quietly, staring out the window. She was happy to see me, but I could see she had been crying. I felt so helpless! All I had to offer was an ear to listen,