by Share On Social!
Editor’s Note: To recognize National Cancer Survivor’s Day on June 2, 2013, SaludToday is telling the stories of Latino survivors through their own words.
By Joan Treviño Lawhon
I think women are blessed with a sixth sense. Recently, during a show on breast cancer survivors, several said they knew immediately that something was wrong. I could definitely relate.
My basic tests were within normal limits, but I had what I can only describe as a “gut feeling.” I had some very supportive doctors who followed through on my instincts. It took five tests to confirm a malignancy.
Within an hour of my diagnosis, I was at Barnes & Noble buying layman’s books on breast cancer. We can freeze and let the disease consume us, or we can fight. My choice was to fight. I was going to make sure my choice was an informed one. My husband Garey had lost his valiant battle to pancreatic cancer the year before. I lost a brother to kidney cancer. I thought I would face “my cancer” alone.
A cancer diagnosis is not a death sentence, but it does make you face your own mortality. I updated my will, organized important papers, selected the music for my service, and even had my obituary picture taken. My friends still laugh over this. But I also highlighted pages in my new books and made lists of questions for my surgeon.
Along with my research, I turned to a source I had treasured since early childhood—St. Theresa, the Little Flower. Her comforting presence assured me that God had found a meaningful way to remind me of his love. I knew then that I was not alone.
My close-knit family also saw to that. In typical Mexican family style, during my nine-hour mastectomy and breast reconstruction, I had 21 people following me from the admitting area to pre-op, surgical waiting, recovery, and finally to my room. My aunt brought a guest book. With this entourage, people probably wondered if I was somebody important. To my family and friends, I am.
This is my last year of tamoxifen (a hormonal treatment). I choose to see my nightly medication not as a reminder of my cancer but as a means of providing me another day to enjoy life. Now if people see me in a low-cut gown, I love hearing them say, “You don’t look like you had cancer,” because they are right. I had cancer. And I thank God for those beautiful words.
This story is taken from Nuestras Historias: Mujeres Hispanas Sobreviviendo el Cáncer del Seno, a bilingual booklet that tells of the cancer experience through the eyes of real life Latina survivors. The booklet was produced by Redes En Acción, a Latino cancer research network funded by the National Cancer Institute and led by the Institute for Health Promotion Research at the UT Health Science Center at San Antonio, the team behind SaludToday.
By The Numbers
25.1
percent
of Latinos remain without health insurance coverage
