I've lost a lot of family members to cancer, my Grandmother, two Aunt's, and my 35 year old cousin Cindy. This is something I've never talked on-line about but in keeping a promise, I'm here to appeal to anyone who's been touched by this horrible disease to please find your way to making a donation to a great cause!
I have never been comfortable talking about this so I'll simply post the following article written by my Aunt Kathy (Cindy's mother) and ran in the Orange County Register on Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Please Keep Reading...
Keeping a promiseMy name is Kathy Foley. I am a wife, mother, grandmother, sister, aunt, cousin and friend. I am a breast cancer survivor. That sounds so powerful. And it should.
I have survived breast cancer, but I live every day knowing I have paid a very high price. I have lost many family members and the eldest of my four children, my only daughter, to breast cancer, Cindy Reutter (Foley) at age 35.
That I am a mother outliving my daughter is wrong, and a part of my heart will never heal.
I will preface my story by saying my husband's family was closer to me than my own. I was raised by my grandparents, and my husband's family was literally my other family. His sisters were my sisters. We lived across the street from each other and his sisters and I grew up together as teenagers.
We lost my husband's baby sister, Mary, to breast cancer in 1994. She had been diagnosed at age 33 and she lost her battle at 44. She left two teenage sons and a devastated family. Mary was a wonderful sister to me and aunt to my children – full of such life, laughter and pranks. That this could happen to our family was unimaginable.
My lump was found in a routine mammogram. “Ductal carcinoma in situ” – meaning it was a contained tumor. A lumpectomy and radiation soon followed. This was in 1997.
I remember no fear, no terror for myself. But I asked the surgeon with my daughter, husband and middle son present, “What about my daughter?”
Our family was still reeling from Mary's death and the tremendous loss her boys and our family felt. With my diagnosis, I was concerned for Cindy. The surgeon replied “maternal mother, grandmother, sister … then you worry.” Little did we all know she would eventually become my daughter's surgeon as well.
Cindy had a routine doctor's appointment in May 1997 and complained of vertigo. During that appointment a nurse practitioner did a breast examination and pointed out a lump the size of a pea in her right breast. She made sure Cindy felt it, told her not to be alarmed because of the location, that she was a runner, that she was in her period and this “kind” of lump was “normal.”
I was at work when I received Cindy's call. I can still hear her excitement. “I only want to see a nurse practitioner from now on. I never knew how to do my own self breast examination and she was just wonderful. Mom, don't be alarmed. I know what you are thinking. But it is not like that.”
As a mother, why didn't I question why she didn't have the same lump on the other side? Why didn't I push for her to see a doctor to have a second opinion? Why, why, why...
In October 1997, just five short months after the breast examination, the world I knew ceased to exist. My Cindy had a 3.5 centimeter tumor in her breast, invasive ductal carcinoma with major lymph node involvement. The original pea-sized lump was not because she was a runner. It was not because she was in her period. It should not have been there. It was because she had an aggressive form of breast cancer.
She was only 32 when diagnosed. This beautiful young woman that I gave birth to and became my very best friend was now in the fight of her life. She lost that fight on Dec. 2, 2000, leaving her husband, Bill, and her legacy, three young children: Joshua,12; Kaitie,10; and Kasey, 8. And our family will never again be the same. Stronger, but never the same.
Cindy immediately gave me absolution. The day we met to go to my surgeon for her, both of us from a sleepless night, it was, “Mom, there was nothing you could have done differently. Nothing. Aunt Mary was able to raise her boys and I plan to do the same with my kids. And by that time, there will be a cure.”
She fought that insidious beast each day with every ounce of strength, tenacity, beauty, wisdom, faith and hope she had in her. She was an inspiration to all who knew her and those who had only heard of her plight. She was never angry, would always have a smile for everyone and never lost her strong faith.
We had second opinions. We followed every lead of new technology, each day waiting for the one that would work for her. Waiting for a miracle. It didn't take much to realize Cindy was our true miracle. She was a gift from God, sent to us for a very short time to teach us how to love, to laugh and to live our lives. To really live. She made a difference in every single life she touched. And that has not changed to this day.
During our last three years together nothing was left unsaid. Regrets … I wish I could say I didn't have any. If I could do anything over I would have sought out a book or a contact, another mother who had a daughter fighting this disease. There are so many more resources available now and it might have helped the guilt I felt for everything Cindy was going through.
I wanted to do everything I could to make Cindy's struggle easier, do everything for her. She was a young, loving wife and mother who just wanted her life and body to be normal again. I overstepped my bounds many times out of love. I think many mothers do the same thing. We want to protect our children at all costs, and breast cancer takes that away.
In the last year of Cindy's life, we lost another of my husband's sisters, Pat, 56, and his mother, Irma, to breast cancer. His one surviving sister, Marj, has no signs of breast cancer and is active in our cause. The count in our family is three “paternal” – four, if you count Cindy. Cindy's oncologist and surgeon were stunned. One of my granddaughters (not Cindy's) had a benign lump removed from her breast at age 13. Genetic testing will be done on all 10 of my granddaughters.
With the pain of loss comes the pursuit of hope. Cindy always believed there was hope. She continues to touch so many; her smile and her faith were contagious. She will always be my inspiration and I will miss her every single day of my life. It is an honor to share her story, her passion for life and her hope for a cure. And to help raise breast cancer awareness.
You are you own best health advocate. Make your voice heard. If you are not satisfied with a diagnosis, get a second opinion.
Never be afraid to speak up.
Cindy always believed that breast cancer could be beat, that the war would be won. Cindy's death brought the birth of Team I Hope You Dance, formed because of a promise.
A promise made to a dying childhood friend, a dying sister; a dying daughter. A promise to always do whatever we could so that no family would have to watch their daughter, their wife, their mother, their sister, their aunt or their friend die because of breast cancer.
–Kathy Foley lives in Placentia.
This November Cindy's Husband Bill and her two eligible children Josh and Katie along with 5 other family members will be walking the Susan G. Koman 3-Day to raise money and awareness to fight and find a cure for Breast cancer. Each needs to raise $2200.00 just to walk.
Please help me, help my family with a donation of any amount you can spare!
Thank you very much,
Steven
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