I have always been a huge supporter of Breast Cancer Funding Projects due to the fact that I lost my mother to breast cancer in 1988. On my 40th birthday in October of 2004 I found a lump. Knowing that I needed to be proactive I did not hesitate to get myself checked out. The results were in fact, cancer. I had a lumpectomy followed by 6 ½ weeks of radiation. In April of 2006, just year and a half after my first diagnosis, my cancer returned. This time I would endure another lumpectomy, but also chemotherapy and radiation.

When I was first diagnosed I was introduced to an American Cancer Society Reach to Recovery volunteer. This person was a breast cancer survivor herself so there was an immediate sense of comfort during a very confusing and overwhelming time.

Also receiving support and love from my family, friends and especially my biggest fan, my husband, Dave; along with my competitive spirit and trust in God have truly been my motivation to win the fight.

While enduring chemotherapy I trained for a local cancer run. Training was often difficult, but I knew if I could finish the race it was as if I was defeating cancer, and setting that goal helped me with the healing process. In June of 2007, less than a year after my last treatment, I had the honor of representing NW Ohio in the National Race for the Cure in Washington DC, in which I was the 8th survivor to cross the finish line.

"Winning the Fight" has become my daily motto. I have learned through this breast cancer experience that I cannot compare my cancer journey to others, even though what I went through was not as difficult as someone else, it does not matter. My story is unique to me and it is a part of me, just like anyone else, their story is going to be their very own. It is this opportunity that I have been given to share my story and to let others know that there is hope. If I can encourage just one breast cancer patient, I have truly won the fight.

I’m Kathy and I’m a survivor. You’ll never know how good it is to be saying those words. I pray you never have to say them, but if you are faced with a journey that includes the dreaded word "cancer" I hope you will be able to utter the same phrase I just did.

My journey with breast cancer–or the fear of breast cancer–actually began ten years ago. In March of 1997 a mammogram found a lump on my left breast. I was sent to a surgeon who felt it was benign but wanted to do a biopsy. Of course, I complied with his request and on a return visit was delighted to learn it was indeed benign.

I have seen many family members suffer from the devastating effects of various cancers since I was a child in grade school. My dad’s sister had to travel to New York when I was in grade school (some 55 years ago) for surgery for stomach cancer in the hopes she would live 5 years. She too was lucky—living some 30 years. My grandmother had cervical cancer and survived. My mom—bless her soul–lived six years after esophageal cancer. My husband lost a kidney to cancer three years ago and though it was encapsulated, he has some dietary restrictions but he is doing well.

So you can see, from my family history the word cancer stirs very vivid memories, and to be honest, some fears. So–in March of 2002–during a routine pap smear, the nurse practitioner felt a pea size lump at one o’clock on my right breast. A visit to the surgeon confirms a lump. A mammogram and ultra sound do not find any lump. My surgeon again does a biopsy and this time the dreaded world "malignant" is the verdict.

For some reason, I knew in my heart that this time I would not be as lucky as I had been five years previously. Because of my family history with cancer I knew right away I wanted to have a mastectomy.

Though my family wanted me to explore all my options–which I did–they finally supported my decision and a date for the surgery was set in April 2002.

My first F for survival is my family. Though my three children were grown and scattered to Atlanta, Georgia, Ann Arbor, Michigan and Columbus, Ohio, they seemed to be able to find their way back home to accompany my husband and myself to talk with the surgeon, radiologist, oncologist, etc. In the end, they agreed with my decision to have a mastectomy and chemo. It turns out that even my surgeon was happy with my choice since there was not just one lump, but two, and some "in cite" cells.

I was not one to hide my diagnosis and choice "under" a lump so to speak, and this is where my faith came into play. I think I told everyone who would listen that I had breast cancer and to please pray for me. Thanks to a wide variety of friends covering an even wider variety of religions I had Catholics, Jews, Muslims and a variety of other Christians praying for me. I really felt I had the bases covered in this area.

My third F was friends. They sent cards, they called, they brought dinner. They were truly loved, welcomed and appreciated. I had my four chemo treatments over the summer and as my strength weakened my greatest joy was to find another card or note waiting for me in that day’s mail. Those casseroles and salads were oh so welcome on days when moving from one room to another zapped one’s energy. Don’t ever be afraid to reach out, to call, send a card, or drop off a flower or a casserole to a cancer survivor. They may be having a bad day but deep down will appreciate your efforts.

My fourth F–please forgive me doctor–but my (ph)ysician-surgeon was wonderful. Even before I left the hospital he had contacted the Cancer Society.

The day I came home from the hospital I received a phone call from a wonderful woman who identified herself as a breast cancer survivor and asked if she could stop out to see me with some gifts and information. Two days later we had a wonderful visit in which she shared her experience and gave me valuable information, suggestions and help. My greatest fear was chemo and the thought of being nauseous and vomiting. She did not have chemo but put me in touch with someone who had. After my conversation with this woman she said she had made herself believe she could get through chemo without getting sick and she did. I felt if she could do it–I could too and I did. Chemo is not fun and by my fourth visit I wasn’t sure I’d make it. I felt so weak, and I questioned whether I would make it. The loss of hair was more upsetting to me than the loss of a breast. Let me tell you—wearing a wig is not what it’s cracked up to be. Rest, family, faith and friends kept the support coming and with the help of excellent (ph)ysicians I got through the summer and reached my goal of walking the 3 mile Race for the Cure in September of 2002 with one of my daughters on each side of me, with arrows pointed toward me saying on their bib "I’m walking for my Mom."

Next month I will celebrate five years of being cancer free. I find it ironic that my journey with cancer began in March and it is in March five years later that I am sharing my story with you. As someone once told me, cancer is a word—not a sentence. We need to support each other and research so that this feared disease can be erased, just as polio, TB and some other dreaded diseases have been. Thank you for being here and whatever you can do to support this cause.

In the 10 years since being diagnosed with Breast Cancer, I have learned more about various types of Breast Cancer and treatment options than I ever dreamed possible. My husband was waiting for the results of a biopsy of his breast tissue, when my primary care doctor called us into her office to tell us the results of my mammogram. I knew as soon as the call came that the news would not be good. When we went home, we started researching.

The first site we visited was that of the American Cancer Society. It gave us a launching pad from which to do more in depth research. My physician provided us with names of surgeons with whom we could consult. I chose to go the same surgeon who had done my husband's biopsy. The doctor agreed to see both of us at my husband's follow-up appointment.

When he walked into the room, he looked at my husband and said his report was good, nothing to worry about. The doctor continued by saying that unfortunately, the news of my mammogram was not as good as my husband's biopsy results.

We discussed surgical options and set a date for my biopsy. Following the biopsy, with a copy of the pathology report in hand, we again hit the Internet to find information to help decipher the language of the report. We met with oncologists and got second opinions, including a surgical second opinion specifically regarding the removal of lymph nodes. It was important to me to participate in clinical trials where possible, so I agreed to enter the clinical trial for Sentinel Node mapping using both a blue dye and a radioactive substance (Technetium 99) to track tumor drainage.

The procedure is now used to remove fewer lymph nodes with the hope of reducing the incidence of swelling in the affected arm (lymphedema). Another trial in which I participated was partially funded by grants from the ACS.

Participating in these trials gave me a sense of control in an otherwise "out of control" situation. Like survivor sisters before me, my hope was to contribute in some way to the well being of our daughters, and yes, our sons, so they would not have to face the dreaded words, "You have cancer." Raising funds for research and education through the ACS is now the way I choose to continue that quest.

My mother and grandmother had breast cancer, so at the age of 29 I began having yearly mammograms. In May of 1996 I had my yearly mammogram and it was fine, but in July of that year I found a lump in my right breast.

I called my doctor‘s office and spoke to a nurse. She said that it was Fibrocystic and not to worry about it.

I waited approximately 2 weeks and called the doctor's

office and was told once again: I TOLD YOU NOT TO WORRY ABOUT THE LUMP ...

Having a history of Breast Cancer in our family and with the knowledge that I received from the American Cancer Society, I called a surgeon and asked for a needle biopsy.

My appointment was 6 weeks ahead. It was at 9:00 and by 11:30 I was diagnosed with Breast Cancer.

I said to the doctor, "Am I going to die from this cancer?" He said that I made a very smart decision and that I would be fine. The next 4 months were a whirlwind.

If I didn't have the information from the American Cancer Society and the encouragement of my husband, I would have lost my fight.

I am Teresa M. of Antwerp, Ohio. I am a daughter, wife, mother, grandmother and I am a Breast Cancer Survivor. I will be walking in the northwest Ohio “Making Strides Against Breast Cancer” walk on May 10, 2008 in Perrysburg, Ohio. This is through the American Cancer Society.

I would like to tell you a little about me and why I decided to do this. My mother Nancy Mendez fought breast cancer for 7 years…She lost the battle May 11, 2000. She was 56 years young. This was my first experience with breast cancer.

My second was in late September 2000 when I went for a routine mammogram, (I had to, I promised Mom.) I had just been called for a job interview the next day…I wanted the job so bad. This was great! Things were going good.

I got home from the interview and had a message on my phone from the doctor. The mammogram showed a small mass on my right breast. I couldn’t believe it… A few days later Rose Bowers called me to attend an orientation. I got the job. My response to Rose was “you shouldn’t hire me,” although I wanted the job, there was a problem. I had a doctor's appointment and would miss work. I knew I would have only 8 hours available. Rose explained to me that if I wanted the job we could work things out.

Keep the appointments and the job. I went to work there, had the biopsy… it wasn’t cancer HOORAY! Rose was great during this time, she told me she knew how I felt because she had gone through this. Rose Bowers is a survivor!

My second encounter with a survivor was when my daughter Samantha married Derek Baumert. His mother was a survivor. She’s an awesome lady…been there for me from the beginning.

My third experience with breast cancer came with a friend/co-worker. Sandy found out she had breast cancer. Strong lady, she worked right through chemo. Sandy is a survivor!

My most recent encounter was June, 2007. I went for my yearly physical. Doc and I both felt a lump on the left breast. I was sent for a mammogram, it showed no mass…I thought great! But what was the lump? The doctor and I decided for peace of mind that I should have it removed. It was probably nothing. I met the surgeon, nice man. One week later he removed it at Hicksville Hospital. Everything went well. The mass was about 2-3 centimeters. I would need to return for the results and have the stitches removed.

One week later, July 6, 2007 I went back and was told the mass was 2.5 centimeters and it was Cancer.

I couldn’t believe it. I thought who is he talking to? Someone else, not me. At first, I actually thought someone else was in the room. My husband stood and touched my shoulder.

I knew then it was me he said those nasty words to. All I could think was, I don’t want to die young like mom, she fought for 7 years… in 7 years I will only be 52. Treatments have changed. I plan on going on for at least 30 more years.

The cancer had spread from beyond the margins, not good. It was mastectomy time. I would go to Lutheran Hospital. I just wanted it to be gone…a nightmare and I wanted to wake up. Afterward more treatment (I was hoping this was going to be easy, not so.) So many options- Chemo, traditional radiation, mammosite radiation, clinical trials. I chose to enter a clinical trial. Why? I thought if not me, then who? I may help to find a cure or better treatment for others who hear those words “you have breast cancer.” The ACS has helped me in so many ways – information, support, friendship. They are making my life a little better each day. The American Cancer Society has been there for me.

I walk for Making Strides Against Breast Cancer for a simple reason…If not me, WHO?