Cheryl Imlach

In May of 2008, I participated in my first Race for the Cure. I was in complete awe of the number of people that turned out. In addition, I was touched by the survivors in their pink shirts and all of the people wearing signs ‘In Memory Of’ or “In Celebration of”; mothers, sisters, grandmothers, aunts, cousins, friends, co-workers, etc. I began to see the magnitude of how this disease touches so many people - but due to having very little family history of any type of cancer, thought I was far removed and living on the periphery of dealing first hand with this dreadful disease.

I first discovered a lump in my breast a year before my official diagnosis. It compelled me to make an appointment for my first mammogram- I was nearing my 40th birthday at the time. The results of that first mammogram were ‘inconclusive’. The lump remained and a year later I went back for my annual mammogram. I made a point of bringing it to the attention of the nurse. Well, this mammogram lead to an Ultrasound, which lead to a needle biopsy. During this whole process, I was not worried and was glad that all exhaustive measures were being used to rule out any issues....or so I thought! A year before, I was told that the same lump was nothing to worry about, why would the results be any different? My primary thought was this time the results would be ‘conclusive’, and I could stop obsessing about this benign lump that was merely a function of getting older- I was, after all, in my 40’s! Isn’t that the age when everything in your body starts to change and/or fall apart?

I received the results of the biopsy at 3:30 in the afternoon on a Friday. As I hung up the phone I was in complete shock, disbelief and denial. I’m pretty sure that was one of the longest weekends of my life! As I began to search the Internet for information,I realized I did not make good notes from my conversation with the Radiologist- I didn’t know, at this stage, if my cancer was ductile or lobular or whether it was invasive or ‘in situ’. It was at this point that I decided that I could not, and would not, get worked up over that which I did not know. I made a conscious decision that I would deal with the information that I had in front of me and handle each phase as it came.

This ended up being a very good strategy. Prior to the pathology report, all of the evidence pointed to this being a relatively early catch and no spread. I was looking at a lumpectomy and radiology - no sweat. Imagine my surprise when I recovered from surgery and learned that in addition to the tumor, my surgeon had to remove a total of 20 lymph-nodes, of which 3 were positive. In addition, the tumor was hormone receptive AND aggressive. Ultimately this meant 6 rounds of chemo, one year of Herceptin, 7 weeks of radiations and 5 years of tamoxifen. A small price to pay in exchange for your life.

I followed the advice of my Oncologist (who, by the way, is a rock star!) and took control of the hair-loss by having a head-shaving party with some of my dearest friends and family. It was an incredible experience and very cathartic for all involved.

I have seen a different side of humanity through all of this, most of it very good. I have been approached and given encouragement by complete strangers and have a handful of anecdotes that I will get plenty of mileage with; my favorite being the 4 year old who looked quizzically at my bald head hiding under a baseball cap and asked me “ are you sure you’re a girl??”

Thanks to organizations such as Komen and the contributions of countless numbers of people, the treatment for breast cancer continues to improve! I feel so fortunate to be living and receiving treatment during this time in history.

The Moral of My story:

Always trust your instincts about your own body and never be afraid or apprehensive about bringing issues, no matter how small you think they are, to your medical team.

Early detection not only saves lives, but it could minimize the treatment modality or reduce the chances of having to go through chemotherapy all together.

The momentary discomfort of a mammogram is NOTHING compared to chemotherapy and a bald head during winter in Idaho.




Cancer is not cool.
Mammograms are.
Be Cool.