Margo Vaughn Churchwell

Margo Vaughn Churchwell
Breast cancer survivor
Morning show co-host 107.1 K-Hits.

I suppose I'm a normal member of the tribe of breast cancer survivors. I'm as different from the rest as they are from me. I was diagnosed during a routine mammogram, but it wasn't that mammogram that saved my life. It was the ones I had before.

My ho-hum spot was only noticed as being different on the mammogram than
last year's. That is why I encourage women to get tested. I am not
the typical candidate, so I thought. I have no family history. I breast
fed. I'm not busty. I was scared to do self exams because I always had
lumpy breasts. I have since been better educated. My surgeon tells me, "
When you do exams you're not looking for cancer. You're not even looking for lumps. You're looking for something different." That's why you need to know what your breasts feel like when things are honky dory.

I was diagnosed on the Friday before Christmas 2007. That of course is the worst time to be diagnosed. (I'm pretty sure there are better times to be diagnosed with cancer and told that you're world is changing)

I remember distinctly the phone call from my OB/GYN. I was at the hardware store. My cell phone rang. I was expecting the call as I had had a biopsy that week. It was my gynecologist. I sauntered outside to talk to him. He delivered the news. To tell the truth I'm not sure just what he said. I just remember the first words.... "I wish I had better news". Then there were terms like estrogen positive, ductile carcinoma, and my head went swimming.

I bawled. Right there in the parking lot. But, you know not for long. I realized I was at the hardware store for a reason and I had better get my chore done. We live in the country and a trip to the store without retrieving your merchandise is more than just wasted time. So I swallowed my sobs, put on my dark glasses and went back in the store.

I was never one for wearing waterproof mascara and that was the thing that probably scared the young man who asked if he could help me. When I took off my glasses to reply, he tried not to look too alarmed by the "raccoon" woman. Oh well. It was just the start of my vanity going out the window.

I had a lumpectomy with a sentinel biopsy. When the surgeon removed the lump he found several lymph nodes that were cancerous and removed those. I was out from work for about a week. I started chemo-therapy on Valentines Day. Boy, don't I know how to have a good time on holidays. I don't remember what exactly I was feeling about chemo-therapy. I just felt it was the thing to do. I do remember what my feelings were about chemo-therapy before being diagnosed, and those feelings have been reversed.

I was always uncomfortable around cancer patients. I remember I would avoid looking at their faces when I talked to them. I know it was just fear. And that is what I would like, that if nothing else comes out of my telling my story is for others to not fear the disease. Call it out. Name it and it diminishes.

I remember people writing me about my "situation", or "I heard about your condition". It was early on that a friend told me "Call it what it is. It's breast cancer"

I'm forever grateful for the support of many people, people I didn't know, my family and friends, my daughter who would come down from Ketchum, just to sit with me. I'm grateful to my partner Tracy and producer Carl who had to look at and deal with the "poisoned" me thru 6 months of chemo. My mother and Father Paul, who would drive her down from Salmon to be with me.

And I'm eternally grateful to those who have gone before me, Susan G. Komen, and all the others, without whom I would likely not be alive today. And while the disease itself is horrific, I wouldn't take away the experience from another, for I know what's on the other side.

Thanks too, to my husband, Prince Festus the Bestus.