It’s been a whirlwind the last few weeks and weekends! Last weekend was Pink Zone and I was lucky enough to get a chance to share my story TWICE during the weekend: at the Saturday night donor reception (where I debuted my AMAZING new Maggy London dress I scored for $18!!! -- picture below), and after the Pink Zone basketball game Sunday, which seven of our family and friends came in for!
My two speeches were mixture of my speech from the “Paint it Pink” gymnastics meet, plus some from my Pink Zone column that appeared in The Gazette. Here they are. The longer one was from Saturday night’s reception, the shorter was from the basketball game and the gymnastics meet:
1. (gymnastics meet & Pink Zone basketball game):
Hi, my name is Marjorie Miller. I want to thank you for having me here tonight and for supporting such an important cause.
We all know that breast cancer affects about 1 in 8 women in the United States. Part of my mission is to make sure people know that it also affects young women, sometimes under the age of 30. And while everyone’s battles and journeys with breast cancer are very different, young women face their own set of challenges, such as body image and fertility issues.
I was diagnosed with breast cancer in April of 2011 at the age of 26, two months after I got engaged. While I was planning my wedding I underwent numerous tests, biopsies and surgeries. Fortunately, because my cancer was found as early as it was, and because of the type of cancer it was, I didn’t need chemotherapy or radiation.
Ultimately I ended up getting a double mastectomy with reconstruction – a total of six surgeries in a year and a half. I married my husband Sean on March 31, 2012. Today I am cancer free but face a lifetime of regular tests and screenings.
The Pink Zone, which benefits six different agencies and health care providers, does so much for breast cancer patients and survivors, and their families, right here in our community. The money goes to education, prevention, diagnosis and treatment.
When I was going through my tests and surgeries, it gave me strength knowing there were people behind me and this cause, right here at home. Not only did that help me fight, it encouraged me to share my story.
The fight against breast cancer is so strong in our community, and I am truly grateful to be a part of it. And I want to thank you all for your part in that.
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| I LOVE this dress! |
Support. Strength. Those are just two words, but they are powerful enough to fuel survival.
Hi, my name is Marjorie Miller. I want to thank you for having me here tonight and for supporting such an important cause.
I was diagnosed with breast cancer in April of 2011 at the age of 26, two months after I got engaged. While I was planning my wedding I underwent numerous tests, biopsies and surgeries. Fortunately, because my cancer was found as early as it was, and because of the type of cancer it was, I didn’t need chemotherapy or radiation.
Ultimately I ended up getting a double mastectomy with reconstruction – a total of six surgeries in a year and a half. I married my husband Sean on March 31, 2012. Today I am cancer free but face a lifetime of regular tests and screenings.
Last year was my first time attending the Pink Zone game as a breast cancer survivor.
During halftime all the survivors are invited onto the floor to be recognized. When I was called to the court, I proudly lined up, waiting to appear in front of the crowd, with hundreds of other breast cancer survivors. It was impossible not to notice I was probably the youngest survivor there, at the age of 27. Initially I felt a little sad: why was I here? I am young, healthy and planning my wedding. I don’t belong here. But that feeling quickly disappeared. Seeing the other survivors gave me hope. There were women of all ages, and survivorship of varying numbers: some 20 or 30 year survivors, some still in treatment.
Being out on the floor at last year’s Pink Zone game as a survivor for the very first time let me know I was part of this whole community, in Happy Valley and beyond, that supports its breast cancer patients and survivors, and their families and friends.
And it’s the Pink Zone that brings that support home. Money raised during the Pink Zone game, and throughout year-long efforts, goes toward education, prevention, diagnosis and treatment. The money is placed in six different organizations, agencies and health care providers, for their fight against this disease that affects up to one in eight women in the United States: Mount Nittany Medical Center, Penn State Hershey Cancer Institute, the PA Breast Cancer Coalition, Kay Yow Cancer Fund, J.C. Blair Memorial Hospital and Lewistown Hospital.
Because of the Pink Zone and its beneficiaries, we have a community of survivors. We have a sea of pink on the floor during halftime and in the stands. We have the pink hats and boas, and the lights and ribbons, which are not just worn for pride and strength, but to display the everyday fight. The fight that extends beyond the basketball game. The fight that becomes part of life.
We must not forget why all of this is important. We must not forget the Pink Zone and its beneficiaries work every day, through numerous efforts, towards a cure. We must not forget that these hospitals and organizations strive to not only take care of and cure breast cancer patients, they make sure families and friends are supported, informed and comfortable. Because they know it’s a husband, wife, sister, brother, mother or best friend bringing flowers or food, or simply holding a hand before surgery, that makes a huge difference. The Pink Zone and those agencies and facilities know it is the whole picture that matters. The picture of support is multifaceted, just like the breast cancer patient.
When I was going through my tests and surgeries, it gave me strength knowing there were people behind me and this cause, right here at home. Not only did that help me fight, it encouraged me to share my story.
The fight against breast cancer is so strong in our community, and I am truly grateful to be a part of it. And I want to thank you all for your part in that.
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| At Pink Eve, the Pink Zone donor reception |
Sean is such a phenomenal husband to not only attend and support all of these events with me (and wear – VERY well – pink!), but he records my speeches on his iPhone to share on Facebook and with our family and friends.
Life, though extremely busy, is feeling more balanced. I feel comfortable in my own skin. I feel proud of myself to be sharing my story in my blog, in columns in the newspaper, and now in front of audiences at events. I feel lucky and blessed to be given these opportunities. I feel lucky and blessed to have the support of my husband and SO MANY of my family and friends.
As I approach the two-year mark, it’s starting to feel real. Like this IS part of my past. It DID happen. I’m not completely IN it anymore. I am past it.
There’s always the fear. Not just of the breast cancer returning, but of getting a new cancer because of the LFS. Every time I feel “run down” or more tired than normal for more than a few days in a row, I get worried. Even if I’ve been “doing too much.”
I know I’m doing a lot. Between work and yoga and running a few days a week, selling our house, building the new one, making plans with friends, planning travel for Passover and weddings, taking care of Campbell – yes, it is a lot. But I eat healthy, get plenty of sleep, eat lots of fruits and vegetables, and we all know my current obsession with supplements, vitamins and plant algae. But maybe sometimes it’s too much.
I know none of that SEEMS balanced when I write it like that. But I do feel balanced. I’m doing what I can and taking on what I can handle. And what I can’t handle, I don’t do. And I don’t feel bad or guilty about it, either.
So, time continues to push forward. Soon it will be Passover again, two years since my breast cancer diagnosis, and our one-year anniversary. I remember the endless days of me waiting until the wedding, thinking it would never come. Wishing, hoping. And now, it’s been almost a year since IT DID HAPPEN.
As I approach the two-year mark, and as I reflect on the events of this past weekend (attending my second Pink Zone game as a survivor), I try to think about what it means to actually be a breast cancer survivor. To carry it around with you, but not let it take over your life. It’s done but it’s still there. It will always be there. The scars, the pain, the feelings your body has that just aren’t quite normal, but they are new normal. Every time someone mentions breastfeeding. I mean, it’s always there. I know this. I know it never goes away. And I know as I get further from it, it feels more comfortable – getting into my “new normal” grooves: my new chest that’s now mine, the scars that were so scary and foreign before, are now MY scars. They make ME, ME. As much as the breast cancer changed me, what it left me was new qualities that make me me. ME ME.
I think instead of trying to figure out what it actually means to be a two-year survivor, I have to just be satisfied with, like many other things as part of this journey, is not knowing what it means and knowing that I may never know. Simply, knowing that you don’t know, but knowing that that’s OK.
What I do know is change is constant, life keeps moving forward, the scars are still there, the fear is real and it never really goes away, and every day is one day farther from a battle that was so painful and so devastating and so debilitating I never, ever imagined life without it. But here I am.
I would say I am past the battle. But you never really are. I would say I’m done with the journey. But you never really are. You’re never really done with anything. And that is both comforting and terrifying.
I know I am lucky, and not every person who faces breast cancer only faces it once. It comes back. It recurs. It spreads. Even after a double mastectomy. Even after clean nodes. Even when there is no breast tissue left, even when they “got it all,” it can still come back. And I know that. I count my blessings every day.
And I have thought about it: if it comes back, they couldn’t possibly do another surgery. Everything is gone. It would be time for chemo and radiation. (or sans radiation because of the LFS). I’ve thought about endless possibilities – breast cancer again plus other cancers. Leukemia again. I’ve thought about all of it, WHILE I’ve been living my life and going along with life as it moves forward. I think about it, AS I’m functioning. It’s never gone.
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| At Pink Zone 2013 with my survivor card - nearly 2 years! |
But the difference is putting it away – in the back. None of us ever knows if we will get cancer and when. Just like anything in life. We don’t know. That’s why we live to the fullest every day, without regrets. Jump into life, full body, both feet and hands, take the plunge. Do it today.
Push myself a little further on the treadmill. One. More. Mile.
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