In October of 1998, I faced breast cancer. This was definitely not “on my list” of things I anticipated happening in my life. I had been an RN since 1968 and had vivid memories of my patients, after radical surgeries, retching while undergoing their chemotherapy.  

Thanks to modern advances in medicine and surgery I was pleasantly surprised to have a renowned breast surgeon in our area, Dr. Cynthia Drogula, perform a lumpectomy to remove the mass attached to my chest wall. The week following, she performed a sentinel node biopsy, which is now standard of care, but in 1998 was cutting edge. A bright blue dye is injected at the site of the mass removal and the first lymph node to absorb the dye is removed and sent to the laboratory while the patient is still in the operating room. Everyone waits for the call from the lab. If the node is positive for cancer, the remaining nodes are removed. If the node is negative, no further nodes are removed, sparing the woman from constant fear of lymph edema, a tremendously swollen arm, the rest of her life. 

 My oncologist ordered the latest anti emetic medications with the chemotherapy, which allowed me to enjoy Chinese food after my treatments! The radiation oncologist and staff were wonderfully skilled, making the 37 consecutive days of treatment an inconvenience, without burning my skin and only destroying about 10% of my lung capacity. I tease those with tattoos that I also have four of them on my chest and back, for exact placement of the radiation. In reality, they are pin head size and not discernable.  Being bald was an experience. I was lucky to have a husband who told me I had a cute shaped head, which he would sneak in and kiss when he thought I was sleeping. Friends and associates at work were phenomenal; convincing me it was ok to ditch the wig in the spring when I had just 1/8” of hair.

I found I was too focused, concentrating on what I had to do next, to be upset. As a nurse, I always thought those who had to watch the suffering of a loved one had a harder time than the patient. This experience proved it to me. My husband and friends were often tearful and anxious. My faith in Christ is my foundation. I asked Jesus for his strength to guide and support me. Throughout the surgeries, chemotherapy, and radiation that followed, I was given His power to endure. His presence went before, beside and within me … every step.

Thanks to all of you who are supporting the cause of a cure for cancer. May God richly bless your endeavor.

Judy K. Bell, RN, BSN