A Story of Breast Cancer Survival

My story begins December 31, 2006. I was 27 and had just gotten engaged ten days earlier to the man of my dreams. I had a job I loved teaching sixth grade. Life was good! I was in the shower getting ready for New Year’s Eve, and I felt a lump…a large, hard, lump in my left breast. I thought it was pretty odd, since I’d never had even the slightest lump before in either of my breasts, but brushed it off, thinking I was making something out of nothing.  As the months went on it was constantly in my thoughts, so I made an appointment with my gynecologist, and upon examination, she sent me to have a mammogram and sonogram done. I was not worried per se, but also felt slightly unsettled. I mean, what 27 year olds have to have a mammogram?

I went to the appointment and in addition to the multiple mammograms and sonograms, the doctor also told me she wanted to do a biopsy. Biopsy? What the heck was that? I had no clue, and had to ask the doctor.  After we scheduled the procedure I asked her what she thought it was and she sweetly but frankly said, “Well it’s either a fibrocystic change in tissue, or breast cancer.” Tears, tears, and more tears. All I heard was “breast cancer”, but then scolded myself for thinking the worst and not staying positive. I remember putting my sunglasses on before I even left the room and immediately calling my mom. Deep down I knew that I wasn’t being a pessimist. I knew I had cancer.

I not only had a tumor in my left breast, but they also found some calcifications in my right breast, resulting in two different types of biopsies. I left with ice packs in my bra and a paper that told me I would know my results in 48 hours; those 48 hours were the longest of my life. My mom and fiance kept me busy with delicious meals, too many yummy cocktails, and lots of errands to keep my mind occupied. But it was all so surreal. I was on pins and needles waiting to find out the biggest news of my life thus far, and yet I was shopping for veils because I was getting married in seven months. It’s almost like my brain would not allow myself to think about what was really going on, because it already knew the truth.

April 4th, just over 3 months after I found the lump, I heard the words “invasive ductal carcinoma” for the first time in my life. At my gynecologist’s recommendation, I had already made an appointment with a surgeon for the following day. He told me I was a good candidate for a lumpectomy, and a week later I was in surgery. It was decided my treatment would include 18 weeks of chemo (6 rounds) followed by 6.5 weeks of radiation – oh, and get married in between! Kyle and I had set a date that November and in no way, shape or form was I going to change it. From day one, it was not an option for me. I wanted everything in my life to be as “normal” as possible. In a way, that is kind of our family motto, “life goes on!” My mom and I realized (very early on) that I would be bald at the wedding, so we immediately got my bridal portraits made because that was extremely important to me. My wedding was about Kyle and me starting our lives together, not about a poor, sick, bald bride who was going through cancer. Let me be honest and say that even though you wear a wig that looks like your normal hair, it’s not…and everyone knows it. I do not regret one bit continuing with the wedding, however I have a difficult time now looking at our wedding pictures. All I see when I look at myself is a wig. I don’t really see “Eva”. Regardless it was a magical day, and getting through the “in sickness and in health” part of our vows was not easy. I cried like a baby, and  there was not a dry eye in the house. We weren’t able to take a honeymoon because I had to start my radiation two days after the wedding.  Instead we planned a ten-day trip to Greece the following summer. It gave us something to look forward to, and I didn’t have to worry about whether or not I would feel good.

The thought of chemo affecting my fertility had not and probably would not have ever crossed my mind, except that one of my best friends mentioned it to me the day before my lumpectomy. So with my bandages and drain still on, I went to see an amazing fertility doctor in Fort Worth, Robert Kaufmann. Back in 2007, freezing eggs was still being perfected, so Dr. K suggested we freeze embryos. Because the embryo is a fertilized egg vs. just an egg, it is “stronger” and has a better chance of surviving being frozen. To be honest, everything happened so incredibly fast during that time, that I didn’t have time to think, question, or wonder. I had a tiny window of time to go through the IVF cycle, before I started my treatments, and if it didn’t work then we weren’t sure what we would do after that.  So I just focused on getting through that one cycle and having it be successful. I was determined! Lucky for us it was, and we were able to freeze three embryos.

Of course not long after we got married, I started getting “baby fever”. It seemed like everyone around me was having babies, and I wanted that so badly for Kyle and me. At one of my check-ups with my oncologist, it was highly recommended I not carry my own children. My tumor was estrogen/progesterone positive, so getting pregnant would be “food” for any cancer cells roaming my body (if there were any). To say I was devastated would be an understatement. I had always dreamed of being pregnant. Even when I was a little girl I would put pillows under my shirt and pretend I was a pregnant mommy with my baby dolls. (I can’t believe I just admitted that). We had the 3 embryos, so surrogacy was our first option. We signed up with an agency in January of 2009, but after several months had no luck. I was so upset, depressed even. I felt like my dream of having biological children with Kyle was slipping away. I became obsessed with the thought of not have my “own” children, and even went to therapy. My whole life I couldn’t wait to look into my baby’s eyes/face and see me in them. I was so wrapped up in my own pity party, and would not even consider adoption. All I could think about was biological, biological, biological. I even went so far as to tell my parents, “I don’t’ care if having a baby makes my cancer come back! I’ll just go through chemo and radiation again!” I was in deep, and needed something to snap me out of it.

Well I got something all right, and it snapped me back to reality real quick – my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer in May 2009 – almost exactly 2 years after me. Breast cancer now officially ran in our family. I took my mom’s diagnosis worse than my own. I was beside myself. It was one thing for me to go through the nausea, fatigue, hair loss, taste bud loss, etc., but for my mom to have to go through that? No way. Oh and let’s not forget that Kyle and I had yet to find anyone that wanted to carry our baby, so I was pretty much a basket case of emotions.

One Saturday night in late May, I got a call from a dear friend and coworker.  Sarah shocked me when she said, “Well, I’d like to offer up my uterus to you and Kyle.” My jaw literally fell to the floor. I just kept saying, “You’re sure?!?” over and over. Monday morning rolled around, and even face-to-face she was still 100% sure about her decision. She and her husband had a one-year-old daughter, and they were not planning on having any more children. We couldn’t believe our “luck”. Not only did I know and love this person, but I also worked with her and I would get to see my baby every day in her tummy. This was fantastic! All my crazy thoughts and fears about not having biological children pretty much went out the window. I had a feeling deep down that it was going to work, and I never looked back.

A few months later, we transferred two embryos that had been frozen for 2.5 years, survived being thawed, and continued to multiply, into Sarah’s uterus. Eleven days later we found out we were pregnant, and 2.5 weeks after that found out we were expecting TWINS! Then to top it all off, we discovered we were having a boy and a girl. I couldn’t believe how “perfect” everything was turning out. Of course, nothing is perfect, and at 26 weeks Sarah had to go on strict bed rest and wear a pump that gave her body anti-contraction medication throughout the day. Being sent to Labor & Delivery at 26 weeks scared the crap out of me, and while I was concerned for Sarah’s heath, my main concern was our babies. Luckily for us, all the methods my doctor used worked, and the twins stayed in for ten more weeks!

Marshall West and Presley Christine were born 100% healthy at 36 weeks, and are literally walking miracles. The same doctor who sent me in for a mammogram and sonogram for my lump, delivered the twins. Everything came full circle, and Dr. Kutzler and I have a very special relationship. I am still extremely close to my surrogate, and she is just as nostalgic about the whole experience as I am. She made all my dreams come true, and I know the friendship I have with Sarah is truly one-of-a-kind. I never looked at her and said, “I wish that was me!” I was past that. I was able to have my health and my babies too. I felt them kick, I went to every single doctor’s appointment, saw every sonogram (two times a week during bed rest), and did not for one second not feel like I was being left out. When they were born I instantly felt a connection with both of them. They were our babies, without a doubt. Anyone that says when you don’t carry your children, you miss out on bonding, is wrong. It’s a mindset really, and the same can be said for adoption. When you look at “your” child, you know in your heart they are yours, no matter what means it took to get them. 

Looking Forward

I have never once asked, “Why me?” To be honest, I consider my cancer a blessing. You probably think I’m crazy for writing that, but if not for cancer, I wouldn’t have met some of the most amazing women. I wouldn’t have the incredible bond with my mom (who is doing great by the way) that I have now. I wouldn’t have had numerous people tell me that they started getting mammograms because of my story. My husband and I have been through more in the eight years of our relationship than some couples experience in a lifetime. He is my rock, and his love for me never once faltered throughout this journey.

I am 6.5 years out, but I think about my cancer every day in some way, shape, or form. I have daily reminders of it.  Every day I take a pill, Tamoxifen, that is supposed to decrease my risk of recurrence (I have to take it for 10 years).  I see the large scar underneath my collarbone where my port was, and I think about chemo. Every night  I have to lay on my right side to sleep because laying on my left (where they removed 11 lymph nodes) causes lymphedema issues for me. Every time I have some sort of strange pain, I ask myself “has it come back?” Every March when I go for my yearly mammogram, I still get a little anxious, “will they find something?”

Even though my mom and I both had cancer, I have had over 40+ genes tested, and so far none of them have even the slightest mutation. The geneticists tell us that my mom’s and my cancer were unrelated, so as of right now it looks like my cancer was a random, spontaneous thing. However I’m going to keep having my genes tested, because I know that one day they will find something to pin point as the cause of my cancer. I have given a lot of thought to having an elective double mastectomy with reconstruction, and I will more than likely have the surgery done in the next several years. I applaud Angelina Jolie for her decision. If you knew it was almost 100% that you would get a disease both your mother and grandmother died from at an early age, wouldn’t you do whatever it took to ensure you would not get it yourself? She made the best decision for her. Basically what it boils down to for me is being here for my kids. In my eyes, they are worth multiple surgeries and temporary pain.  Technically the daughters of breast cancer survivors should start having mammograms 10 years before their mother’s age at diagnosis. This means Presley will have to start them at 17, and I can’t tell you how heavy that weighs on me. When you are 17 you should be worrying about boys, prom, and college…not having to schedule your first mammogram. I hate that she will have that anxiety every year, but I’m going to be there for her every step of the way. It’s a fine line to walk between not wanting to put fear in her, but wanting her to be aware.

Is my cancer going to come back at some point in the next 50 years? Odds are, yes. Am I scared of getting cancer again and potentially leaving my little ones without a mom? You bet! Do I allow it to ruin/take over my life and not be present? No way! Because I do self breast exams, and my doctors are very much on top of any little thing that causes them concern. My story is a unique one, I know, but I have no doubt I would have written a much different tale to tell, if I had waited the 4 months until my yearly exam.

Ladies, I had ZERO risk factors when I was diagnosed. I was young, thin, in good shape, didn’t smoke, and had no history of breast cancer or ovarian cancer in my family. Don’t wait until you are 35 to have yourself checked…check yourself, NOW. Self breast exams save lives!

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Eva Nix lives in Dallas (a recent transplant from Fort Worth) with her husband Kyle and their two kids, Marshall and Presley. She attempts to balance being a full-time wife and mom with teaching sixth grade, and some days she is more successful with that than others. She enjoys spending time outdoors with her family, shopping, attempting to work out, and having cocktails with friends.

Fort Worth Moms Blog is so grateful to have Eva share her story with us and encourage our readers to take measures for early detection.  We encourage you to talk with your doctors about this and educate yourselves on self breast exams.