The Joke Is On Me: My Survival Shoebox for Breast Cancer During Breast Cancer Awareness Month by Tammy Read

This story is about surviving truly awful things by making jokes and laughing at the worst of times. Some things I still can’t joke about and you will be surprised by the things I can. It’s not always easy to do and my family had a hard time following my lead. In the end, they realized that’s how I survive.

Given that it's Breast Cancer Awareness Month, let's talk about the truly awful thing that happened to me. I went bald and went from having two D cups to having a D and a B cup.

I was 49 when I just happened to find a lump in my right breast. Truth be told, my husband found it first, ha ha! Way to kill the mood, right? I thought it was nothing. I didn't feel it then. I actually found it Christmas morning in 2022. I must have made the naughty list because I got a 5cm block of coal in my breast. 

As much as I always think the best of things, I knew this was not good. It was hard as a rock and my breast felt tender. I didn’t mention anything Christmas day, but next day I told my husband and scheduled my own mammogram. My primary care doctor’s office at the time told me it would be six weeks before they could see me. Well, that was unacceptable. So I went online and scheduled my own mammogram without a doctor’s order and found myself a new primary care doctor. 

Lesson One: Take control of your care. Don’t wait on anyone. A week could mean a life in this situation. I went through a month’s worth of tests and confirmed it was malignant. Over the next year a half I would undergo six rounds of chemotherapy, a lumpectomy, six and a half weeks of radiation and 12 rounds of immunotherapy. In other words, a quick weight loss program, the invention of a "snack cup," very expensive tanning sessions and a year-long hangover, without the pleasure of drinking alcohol.

My boys are a lot like me. My oldest especially. Find the joke in the pain. My youngest gets there, but his heart and soul feels so much and so deep. I had warned them, previously with my husband in the room, that I was going to be having some tests done on a lump I found and not to worry. I just wanted to give them a heads up. Three weeks later I had to drop the big bomb and I needed to do it alone. I didn’t want my boys to guard their feelings with their stepdad in the room. These two boys are my life and there isn’t anything I wouldn't do for them. When I told them, they were 20 and 17, but when I looked at them sitting on the couch staring at me while I said those words, I saw them staring back at me as a 5- and 8-year-old. 

"I have breast cancer."  I was able to get the words out with very few tears. They said nothing the whole time. Just stared at me. When I finished I asked them if they had any questions. There was about 20 seconds of silence and then my oldest asked, “How much did you say your life insurance policy was for?” My youngest looked mortified until I burst out laughing. Then he joined in with his brother in a 10-minute skit of the fancy cars they are going to be able to buy with the life insurance money. I thanked them for reacting that way. That’s what I need, humor.

My little brother was the first to say the tumor needs a name. After much deliberation, we decided on “Wallace” and I started the “#FreeWallace” on my Facebook page. My picture of Wallace in my head was that of Mel Gibson in Braveheart. Blue face, ready to fight for his freedom, breaking out of my side boob. I went even as far as to have T-shirts made with the pink breast cancer ribbon with “#FreeWallace” written across it. Friends and family wore the shirt and their pictures went viral. Seeing them made me laugh and feel loved

My sister, whose heart I felt from miles away, gave me the most memorable gift. The night before my first chemotherapy treatment I received a shoebox of fun stuff from my big sister. It had Mad Libs, flavored Chapstick, all kinds of “kid stuff” and "gummies." I had never had them, and scared of what I was about to go through. So I decided to try them to see how they would affect me. My youngest son and my husband were with me. So I ask them to try them with me. We each had a whole gummie. I sent a text to my sister to thank her, to which she immediately responded, “DO NOT EAT A WHOLE GUMMIE. THEY ARE NOT WHAT YOU THINK!” Oh dear God! 

About an hour later I started laughing uncontrollably. So much so, as an older woman that has passed two humans through her body, peed my pajama bottoms, continuously. My husband was giggling. Then it hit me! I texted my son from across the house to see if he was OK. His simple response, "No." I ran to his room to find him sitting on his bed leaning against the wall. He says, " I think I'm high." I told him we all are thanks to his aunt! Not the best mom moment, but certainly funny.

Lesson Two: Ask what kind of "gummie" is in the shoebox. 

Cancer sucks and I could tell you all the awful things I went through. Instead I will tell you this: I survived.

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