One in 8 women will be diagnosed with breast cancer in their lifetime. The disease is insidious, does not discriminate and leaves physical, psychological and emotional scars in its wake. My sister-in-law Margo Kornfeld was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2006. She was young, in good shape and blindsided by the diagnosis. Yet she handled what lay ahead with grace and aplomb, never once asking “why me?” She considers herself a survivor; I consider her awe-inspiring. This is her story.
In May of 2006, at the age of 46, I was diagnosed with Stage 1 breast cancer after a routine mammogram. Luckily, there was no lymph node involvement. I had a simple lumpectomy and thought it ended there. However, the pathology report revealed an aggressive cancer, and after genetic testing, I learned I had the BRCA 1 gene. This gene forecasted an 80% likelihood of breast cancer, a 60% likelihood of ovarian cancer and a 40% chance of a recurrence of breast cancer. Not great statistics. I had a mission to trace the origin of this gene and help other family members. I implored my relatives to get genetically tested. Some refused, admitting they would rather not know. Two of my cousins took the blood test and discovered they were BRCA positive. After an MRI, they learned they were harboring early stage breast cancer. I saved two lives.
For myself, I chose to have a double mastectomy, an oophorectomy, and reconstructive surgery. Being post child-bearing years, I felt like I was getting rid of body parts I no longer needed, and cutting my chances of a recurrence. Chemotherapy was optional, although after hearing the statistics, I believed I had no choice.
I had chemotherapy every two weeks from August 2006 through November 2006. I lost my hair, my eyebrows, my eyelashes, and felt tired and physically sick. I stopped working. For the past four years, every six months I get blood tests, and CT-Scans of my breasts, pelvis, abdomen and bones.
After chemotherapy, I did not feel well for a year. I was considered a “survivor,” yet I did not feel like one. One day I attended a lecture at the 92nd Street Y where a world-renowned oncologist was speaking about breast cancer. I asked him what I can do to increase my chances of not having a recurrence. He told me I was not going to like the answer. He said, “It’s not just diet, it’s not just exercise, it’s athleticism. It’s about getting the endorphins going.” He had no study to prove it as it was too hard to get enough people for a control group, but he maintained that his most successful patients had been those that had changed their lives and became athletic.
Great, I thought. I have never been an athlete—I had severe asthma as a child. Of course I went through the motions of moderate exercise and tried to eat healthy. However, being an athlete was a huge leap, and frankly, intimidating. I told myself that somehow I had to become an athlete to make my body work for me, not against me. So I took up cycling. I joined a cycling club in my neighborhood with a friend and, before I knew it, I was cycling 30 and 35 miles. I registered for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society Team in Training “Century Ride,” a 100-mile ride in Arizona. Training was brutal in the beginning; I had poor lung capacity, no strength, and I could barely make it up hills. Yet I told myself that compared to chemotherapy, this was nothing.
To continue my quest of becoming an athlete, I took up running, and challenged myself by registering for the Berkshires half-marathon. Again, training was really hard. I developed shin splints. I was even told my feet are not “structurally right for running.” But on Memorial Day weekend, I completed my first half-marathon, running 13.1 miles! I felt proud and powerful. I had never been in such good shape, and I realized I was stronger at 50 years old than most people half my age.
No matter what is in my future, my body is now my friend. If my cancer returns, I know I have done everything I can do to take care of myself, to be there for my husband and my two remarkable children. I am a total athlete—and a survivor.
(Margo Kornfeld and Jillian Rosen, New York moms and sister-in-laws, are presently training to run a half-marathon together.)
