My Story

In November of 2000, I found a small, pea-sized lump. That little lump changed my life.

At the time, my daughter was 11, my son was 8, and my twin stepdaughters were 18. I had four children I loved dearly, and suddenly I was facing breast cancer. One of the hardest moments was hearing my little boy ask, “Does this mean you’re gonna die?” As a mother, there are some questions you never forget.

In December of 2000, I had a bilateral mastectomy. The surgery was long and complicated, and what followed was a year filled with chemotherapy, surgeries, reconstruction, uncertainty, and healing.

But through all of it, God was there.

There were days I was scared. There were days I was exhausted. There were days when I didn’t know what was ahead of me. But my faith gave me something cancer could not take away — hope.

I prayed. I trusted. I kept going.

I wanted so badly to be here for my children. I wanted to watch them grow up. And today, 26 years later, I look at the life God has allowed me to live and I am overwhelmed with gratitude.

One of the most emotional moments of my cancer journey came when I attended my first Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure. I had been through so much by then, but standing among all those survivors and families affected by breast cancer touched me in a way I will never forget.

For the first time, I could look around and see that I was part of something much bigger than my own story.

There were women beside me who had fought the same battle. There were families walking in memory of someone they loved. There were survivors celebrating another year of life.

And there was hope everywhere.

That feeling has stayed with me all these years.

It is one of the reasons I started Anchored in Hope – Lake Norrell Walk Where You Are.

This is now our second year, and this walk means even more to me.

The money raised for Susan G. Komen does more than fund research. It helps real women and real families who are facing breast cancer right now. Assistance can help with things such as transportation to treatment, lodging, financial needs, patient support, and other barriers that can make an already frightening diagnosis even harder.

A woman should never have to miss treatment because she cannot afford a ride.

She should never have to choose between paying a household bill and getting the medical care she needs.

And she certainly should not have to lose her life simply because she does not have enough money.

That touched my heart deeply when I learned about the help available through Komen.

I know how fortunate I was. I know early detection played an enormous role in my survival, which is why I will always encourage women to know their bodies, do regular self-exams, schedule their mammograms, and never ignore something that feels different.

I walk because I am still here.

I walk for the women who are fighting today.

I walk for the families standing beside them.

I walk in memory of those who did not get the 26 extra years that I have been blessed to receive.

I walk because there is still work to be done.

And I walk because I believe God has a purpose for the life He has given me.

Breast cancer will always be part of my story, but it does not define my story.

Faith, hope, gratitude, and life do.

Twenty-six years later, I am still here.

And I thank God for every single one of them.