living my dream

by Magda Renenauer, a survivor, wife, and mother

On February 18, 2016 I was sitting at the breast care center waiting my turn for my first (and as it turned out later, also my last) mammogram. I have heard horror stories, about the pain and discomfort, so I was freaking out. I was sent for one, along with an ultrasound because I had some dark discharge.  Within an hour, my world came tumbling down, when the word biopsy came up. They tried to calm me down. It might be nothing… but come on, who was going to believe that… this place sees plenty of cancers, so they know what to look for. They took not one but three samples, including one from a lymph node.

The next day with my husband, my worst fears were confirmed. That day I did break down, and cried like I have never cried before. But I didn’t allow myself to dwell on it, because now it was time to fight… my official diagnosis was stage IIIA Her2+ and ER+ breast cancer. Mentally the toughest part was telling my family, friends and coworkers that I was sick, and pretending I was okay in front of my two small (3 years old and almost 1) children was pretty draining. At 36 years old I was facing cancer again. Because 8 years before this, I had melanoma, and this one was going to be a tougher fight.

The next couple of weeks passed in a fog. I don’t recall too much from all the testing and doctors’ appointments. It was hard keeping things straight, since I had so many of them. Thankfully I had my husband with me to keep track of everything. That whole time I was waiting for someone to wake me up from this nightmare.

My treatment plan was designed specifically for me. It was to administer chemo before the mastectomy to try and shrink the cancer. First was a port followed by three treatments of 4 drugs. After that a bilateral mastectomy and three more chemo treatments. I chose to have a reconstruction, and that was started at the time of my mastectomy. Since I am so young with absolutely no family history of breast cancer, I had genetic testing for BRCA as well as genetic testing for melanoma. All came back negative, which was both a relief and confusion. A relief, because that meant my girls do not have the gene.

Chemo was unknown, therefore scary. But I had to live through it and it sucked. I was tired, lost my taste, and developed a horrible taste in my mouth. It took two treatments for me to start losing my hair. To be honest, once I got a nice wig, I was not too upset about going bald. I didn’t like it, but it was easier than I expected. I do believe getting the right kind of wig was what helped me keep it together.

While on chemo, I remember feeling ok for the first couple of days, then have a weekend from hell (every three weeks). By the time I would start feeling human again (the weekend before my Tuesday treatment) I would get upset because I knew I was starting all over again. Eating and drinking was a struggle, but I tried pushing for it, to make sure I didn’t end up in a hospital.

My coworkers were super understanding and work was a nice escape. It was easy to pretend at work things were normal… except I would be missing for a day every three weeks. Home life was tough. My husband had to cover for me a LOT, as I had no energy. You realize how useless you are when you are in bed before your 3-year-old daughter.

My surgery was the scariest thing I have lived through. I was terrified… terrified of what they would find, terrified of how I would feel (that unknown part is awful), terrified of not waking up. But, I’m still here... the good news was, the biopsy of the removed tissues showed ZERO cancer cells. I was declared cancer free. I guess feeling like crap has paid off.

After surgery, I was at home for six weeks. The first couple weeks were pretty bad…was on heavy pain meds, had drains in my body, and had to sleep in the recliner. One thing that made it easier, was my own personal nurse, my sister, who stayed with me for three weeks. I don’t think I would’ve been able to take care of myself, if she hadn’t been there.

The good news of no cancer did not alter my treatment plan, and I had to continue my chemo, for three more treatments. To say my summer was shot, is an understatement. Once I was done with the chemo (except for Herceptin) I started radiation. This invisible thing didn’t seem to bother me much, for the first 5 of 6.5 weeks… until it hit me all at once. The burns were bad and painful. I was eating ibuprofen like candy… but in the end I got through it.

Up until radiation, I was able to keep my spirits up. I didn’t have time to think too much about my situation, I was too scared and felt sick, I didn’t concentrate on what was happening to my body. And then, things slowed down, and I got in a rut. Not that I never cried before, but usually I got myself out of that dark place. But all of a sudden I couldn’t. I was PISSED. Why the heck was this happening to me? What did I do to deserve it? I’m a good person, why? I know those are stupid questions, because I know cancer doesn’t discriminate, but you can’t help what you feel.

Once my radiation was over, my husband took me on a trip to Boston. I spent a long weekend without a wig, as my hair was growing back. Of course, as my hair started growing back, my eyebrows and eyelashes started falling out. I never completely lost my brows, which was very helpful with drawing them on. And then came the biggest surprise of them all… I lost all of my toenails, and my fingernails were detaching from the nail bed. It is an unusual side effect, but, it happens… I’m still waiting for proper nails. And let’s not forget chemo brain… I hope, one day it will finally go away.

I had to finish out the 12 months on Herceptin, but that was easy. I didn’t have any side effects from it. Regular echocardiograms showed that my heart was tolerating it well.

​This year, on March 7th I got to ring the bell of a last chemo. A week later I had my port removed. The last step was the reconstruction. I had my implant placement surgery on July 24th. This time around, surgery and recovery were much easier.

What got me though this…? My family. My husband stood by me, no matter how hard it got. He had to pick up where I couldn’t care for my children, he shaved my head as needed (not exactly an activity specified in our vows). And mostly, I needed to stick around for my girls. I wanted them to have a mom.

Today, I am living my life, trying to pretend it didn’t happen, but there are enough scars on my body and my mind to always remind me. I am still not at full capacity, but I am getting better. I still cry on occasion, and at times I get mad, but I am doing my best not to let cancer rule my life. I could let myself fall into a dark hole and never get out… but I guess it’s not in my nature. I’m a fighter, whether I like it or not, and giving up is not part of my vocabulary.

It has been 18 months since that fateful day, where I thought my life was over. I have taken on this war. I won! I am a SURVIVOR!

​What did cancer teach me? That I am pretty damn awesome and strong, even if I don’t always give myself the credit. That I can pull off a wig, and I have a pretty nice looking head. And most importantly, none of us are guaranteed a tomorrow. So when people ask me how I am, I always respond with “living the dream”. Most assume I’m being sarcastic, but you know what, I’m alive, therefore I AM living my dream.  

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