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Published: October 4, 2009
Being a cancer survivor can be a double-edged sword. On one side, the term gains immediate respect, but on the other side, it brings great pause. Unfair as it may be, some families have more than their fair share of cancer.
Sue Blackman was 36 years old in 1986, and had a loving husband and two teenage children. Before moving to Concord, the family called Norwich, N.Y., home.
For the Blackman family, spring that year had just begun, and they were enjoying vacation at a North Carolina beach for Easter.
"I had gone like a week without wearing a bra, between bathing suits, and the terry-cloth rompers that were all the rage back then," Sue recalled. "We were in bed one night when I said to Bob, 'my right breast does not feel right.' It felt heavy. I wasn't even comfortable touching the breast. I knew there was something wrong."
She had a mammogram done in September 1985 because of fibrocystic breasts. That means her breasts had some lumpiness and discomfort, but the condition is benign. The mammogram, at that time, didn't reveal anything suspicious.
Returning home from her trip, she felt she should immediately deal with the issue. A new mammogram and biopsy confirmed the worst of her fears.
It took only seven days from the time she called her doctor, to the time she had surgery to remove her right breast.
It was called a "modified radical."
The doctor felt the lump had to be extremely fast growing since it wasn't anywhere on the September mammogram. So the doctor ordered a bone scan, just to make sure the cancer hadn't spread.
Two weeks after surgery, she met with the oncologist. Two weeks after that, she began a 12-month, 48-week, two-weeks-on, two-weeks-off regimen of chemo to fight the cancer.
"It became very emotional for me, more so than physical," Sue said. "I went into it thinking if I got through the first treatment, I'd be all right. That would be the hardest, but each treatment got harder. It was the only thing I've ever done that didn't get easier."
She remembers the burning sensation she felt as the chemo went into her system, as well as a distinctive odor.
"If you've never had chemo there's no odor, but a lot of us who are taking chemo can smell it," Sue said. "It's just a tough situation."
Sue never went alone during the year of chemo treatments. Bob was there almost every time to sit and comfort her.
"The only time he had to miss a treatment, he was traveling for his company," Sue said. "Before he even told me, he made arrangements to have my best friend with me."
What made the battle even worse was the chemo threw Sue into early menopause at age 37.
Sue did have hope. Her mother was a cancer survivor.
Doris Miller, Sue's mom, had been diagnosed with cervical cancer in 1965, and although her mother had died from the same type of cancer, Doris was a survivor. Today, Doris is a 42-year survivor.
It was a lot for the family to deal with.
Although they had a lot of support from family and friends, the children still felt the turbulence their family was experiencing.
"My son David, the youngest, said to me at the time, 'I don't want you to die,"' Sue recalled. "I said to him, 'just because I have cancer doesn't mean I'm going to die.'"
Julia, her 17 year old daughter, began to suffer from anxiety attacks.
It was hard for Julia to talk about her feelings about the turmoil the family was in, as well as the fear she felt.
Sue had their family doctor explain to Julia how to examine her breasts. He told her that if she ever got cancer, it would be so far down the road that it wouldn't be anything like the ordeal her mother was going through.
Sue is a 23-year survivor of breast cancer, and her daughter, Julia, 17 years after her mother's battle with breast cancer, began one of her own.
Julia, who still lives in New York, was 31 when she was diagnosed with breast cancer, and was a single mother with an 8-year-old son.
Things had indeed changed since that conversation with the doctor in 1986, and her path with this disease was different.
Julia went to her doctor for a mammogram after finding a lump in her breast. While she was told the test was negative, Julia knew something was wrong.
The doctors told her to wait a month and see what happened, but because of her mother, she knew she had to follow the feeling she had inside and push the issue with her doctor.
The lump was cancer.
Julia had a double mastectomy, undergoing four months of aggressive and intensive chemotherapy.
She told her father first, and it hit him very hard.
Since his wife first found her lump, Bob has seen a mom, a sister, and then his daughter fight cancer. It was enough for one family.
"I so wanted a granddaughter; we have three grandsons," Sue said. "When Julia was diagnosed with breast cancer, I thought, 'thank God I didn't have a granddaughter and have to go through this again.'"
Their story doesn't end there.
In May 2008, it was Bob's turn to face cancer.
Bob, like a lot of men, has had prostate issues through the years. His doctor was doing a procedure on him when they found cancer on his prostate. The doctor was very blunt about breaking the news to Bob.
"By the way, we found cancer," Sue said. "I was scared, but it was a different kind of thing. Prostate cancer is a slow-moving thing."
"I accepted it," Bob said. "I had gotten to know him (the doctor) because I had been keeping track of things. It was a wait-and-watch thing — the prostate cancer. They did biopsies, waited to see what the (Prostate Specific Antigen) did, but then it shot up."
Bob had a new prostate surgery done by a robot. It is less invasive than the surgery they had been performing.
Using the robot makes recovery easier, but with the procedure the doctor had previously performed, he had to take it extra easy during recovery.
Then, came the chemo.
"Mine was totally different from what Sue went through," Bob said. "I had a one-shot deal for four months. There it is … but I had hormonal changes, hot flashes, weight gain, mood swings. I had all that. You don't think of all those things happening to you."
They are a family of survivors.
Sue goes back to be checked once a year.
"That's the only time I think about it anymore," she insists.
Sue's cancer made Julia independent and helped Julia face her own battle with strength and dignity.
It has also strengthened Bob and Sue's marriage, bringing them even closer. Date night is always Thursday. They enjoy going out for dinner.
Sue's opinion is different, and she thinks Bob is mellower. She said he used to keep things bottled up inside, but now he talks about things.
"I think he's learned from my experience," Sue said. "You have to talk about it and share it. You have to get it out."
"I didn't have any choice," Bob said. "People were always talking to me."
Cancer has also made them advocates.
"It gives you a chance to pay back," Sue said. "If you're helping other people deal with cancer and set a positive example. It gives you a chance to pay back."
Their message to anyone beginning the battle with cancer is "attitude is everything."
For Sue, it was rainbows that played the most important part in her recovery. One always appeared at the times she felt the most hopeless.
It gave her a sense of peace. Now it's a reminder they can get through anything together.
They both volunteer their time to talk to cancer patients about their experience.
The couple feels it's important to have a chance to talk to someone who has been through the ordeal, so you know you're not alone and there is light at the end of the tunnel.
"It's important for them to know it's not the end of the world," Sue said.
• Contact reporter Robin L. Gardner: 704-789-9140
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