Power in Pink
Hi, my name is Beth Rutherford, a Christian, wife, mom, sister, friend, and like others, a Survivor. Hearing the words, you have Cancer SEVEN times can be jaw-
dropping and not a fun journey. By Grace, I am an RN because, by Grace, so many
things FOR my life came into play. My first five separate diagnoses of Breast
Cancer started in 2007 and went through active treatment until 2012 to the
present, NED; (No evidence of disease). It led to a total of 27 Rounds of
chemotherapy, radiation, Bilateral Mastectomy with reconstruction, and countless
surgeries, all within FIVE years, starting at the age of 37. I was a working mom of
two kids, a boy, 8, and a 5-year-old girl. My mother had pre and post-menopausal
breast cancer, so mammograms started at 35. Like many others in this age
bracket, the findings stated dense breast appears normal.
I have a fantastic story of why suddenly one breast was significantly more
significant than the other in July of 2007, but breast cancer still was found in my
left anterior breast. I picked up the mammogram films and the printed report
before my MRI. As I sat and waited for my name, I read the whole piece, not just
the findings section. Written in black and white, a benign mass on the left anterior
breast was seen. Asking the GYN why I was not told or made aware of the mass.
My Sentential node biopsy confirmed stage 2b, grade 3, estrogen positive with no
lymph node involvement. Crushed and furious to know this had been active and
growing for at least a year. My mind went wild with how this could be happening. I
have two kids at home. How could this be missed? As it would turn out, over the
next five years, I learned it is overlooked and takes an understanding of your body,
its mechanics, and intuition. Fighting Cancer takes Will. Seeing what you have to
fight for takes courage and strength. It's admitting where you are vulnerable. We
lose not only our breasts but hair, eyebrows, eyelashes, and for some, our jobs,
our sense of who we are in the world. Barring the BRCA 1 gene, my so goal
became seeing my kids through school.
Looking back now, I do not remember the specifics of each chemotherapy agent
and the damage caused to my body. I was focusing on the present everyday issues
with kids in school. I battled on and off each time, trying to return to my love, my
Job as an RN in the ER. Yet, God had another plan. See, four years early, our
daughter, at 1, had viral encephalitis causing an acquired traumatic brain injury.
Her future capabilities and the need to relearn what a one-year-old instinctively
learns were left unknown. Each year with each diagnosis being more challenging
and complex, each chemo agent came with its permanent side effects. Staying
positive for them gave me hope because, in each moment, I could see myself
breaking but knowing God had a plan, my strength lay with him. We survived the 5
Years of Hell by pure perseverance. If you were to ask my kids today, they would
say those five years were easy compared to the seven years that followed.
With my first diagnosis in 2007, implants were just a given. The plastic surgeon
brushed aside the explanation of implants needing replacement every 7-10 years,
but I guess I was not thinking past losing my hair (the first time). So nine months
later, in 2008, when my Cancer returned to the lymphatic nodes, they changed my
treatment plan to add radiation with the implants under the muscle in place. In
2010 with my 3rd diagnosis, it converted to triple-negative metastatic breast
cancer even on the estrogen suppressors. The doctors explained it had a
mutation. So we went with surgery, then chemo, and rinse and repeat. Hearing
twice in 2012 that it returned kept me on the hamster wheel. Listening to my body
with Each diagnosis came after battling to have a yearly CT of my chest, abdomen,
and pelvis. My daughter, then 11 years old, noticed a spot on my shoulder in 2013,
and Yep, it was spreading melanoma. I just completely shut the word Cancer out.
I was staying focused mainly on my daughter's lack of education in the public
school system. I became her advocate. I saw what she was capable of at home and
could not understand why the school had her in a self-contained class where she
had limited or no interaction with her peers. She became my reason to fight, and
she graduated with a standard diploma in 2021. Fifteen years later, I would hear
the words Metastatic Melanoma in 2022. Currently, in a treatment plan with
Keytruda every six weeks for a year and a cardiac research trial.
So for about the seven years that followed, 2012, I was NED. Those are the days I
remember thinking, this is life surviving Cancer? What life? Doctors just kept
telling me it was the chemo, all the chemo. Ten years have crept by until it was
time to exchange my implants. So 2019, not knowing what the body may look like
or what benefits may occur and only knowing I didn't want to have surgery every
7-10 years, I went Flat. Luckily removal is the route I went. Adhesions from my left
rib cage needed to be shaved due to radiation over the implant and capsulation. I
was leaving the left side con-caved at the chest. But the most amazing thing
happened. While healing, almost all my symptoms, which the doctor had said were
chemo or treated me like a crazy woman, seemed to slip away. Grieving my breast
originally was not as hard as grieving them the second time. Now, my body itself,
to the bones, has been affected by the implants. I realized now that the first
the diagnosis was about losing my hair. I would wake up from that first surgery with
expanders in place, leaving the impression of breasts with no cessation. Yet
honestly, once they were out, I realized they had been affecting my health and
robbing me of precious time with family. All due to something I had lost twelve
years prior, my Breasts.
Difficult to wrap my Soul around the concept that I am still here. Fight or flight is
humanity's way of dealing with the pain and sorrow of today. If we just stopped for
a second and admired the miracle we each are given, like the air we breathe, the
trees needed to produce our atmosphere, the soil we sew, the ocean, and all its
wonder. Stand up to be seen. Ask the questions that everyone is afraid to ask.
Answer the questions. Speak to be heard. Listen with compassion.
We all ride a rhythm of emotions, each to a beat of a different drum. I can sit in the
well of empathy. I can fall deeper and deeper into despair because I have been
where you are today—pain and sorrow from all areas of life. Seeing with a vision is
the direction one must go. I feel the pull of my heart because my whole existence
is rooted in our shared memories. Its been 15 years since my first diagnosis; 10
years since my last chemotherapy treatment. Though many still see a breast
cancer patient, I do not want to be known for what I have been through but for
what I have overcome. There is a difference between being a victim and a survivor.
Even as I battle another form of metastatic Cancer, I am and will always be a