Swimtalk Newsletter

Cancer has had a profound impact on my life from a young age. Watching people I love endure the physical and emotional toll of this disease, and experiencing the devastating loss of aunts, uncles, grandparents, close family friends, classmates, and colleagues…it often made cancer feel like a relentless presence throughout my life.  Cancer’s familiar heartache through the experience of my loved ones took on an entirely new and close to home meaning when my husband was diagnosed with a rare form of tumor the week of Christmas 2024. Receiving that diagnosis days before what should have been a holiday to celebrate family and joy was absolutely devastating for us.

For the past 15 years I have worked as an ER nurse caring for the sickest of the sick, many of whom have been affected by cancer.  I have been there for the worst moments of many of our patients’ lives. Now, finding myself on the other side of the bedside as a family member and direct caregiver of a cancer patient has been an incredibly humbling experience.

On June 20, 2016, my conventional upbringing was abruptly suspended. At just eleven years old, I was diagnosed with an aggressive, mutated variant of acute myeloid leukemia—a cancer of the blood and bone marrow. My baseball season was put on hold, my summer was canceled, and my life was placed in immediate suspense.

For the next six months, my reality was confined to a hospital isolation room under the heavy shadow of a grim 20% survival rate. The physical toll was brutal. Chemotherapy stripped away my eyelashes, eyebrows, and hair. I faced severe nausea, and agonizing sores lined my mouth and lips, leaving me no choice but to relegate to a feeding tube. I lost weight from my already gaunt frame until I looked like a white, ghastly skeleton of my former boisterous self.

The lowest point came one Saturday night during my third round of chemotherapy. I contracted pneumonia and went into septic shock. A fever of 108°C raked through my body, my heart rate blared, and my blood pressure plummeted deathly low to 50/30. Alarms were sounding everywhere as doctors and nurses rushed into the room, fighting to pull me back from the edge of sudden expiration. My parents, an hour away, could only pray fervently over the phone, clinging to Scriptures like Exodus 14:14: “The Lord will fight for you, you need only be still.” Miraculously, my fever vanished and my heart rate normalized in a way the nursing staff admitted defied medical explanation. But the worst was still ahead: a grueling bone marrow transplant.

In December 2021, I was diagnosed with breast cancer, and the next 15 months became a whirlwind of surgery, chemotherapy, radiation, and infusions. My oncologist, Dr. Zelkowicz, recommended Cold Cap therapy to help prevent the hair loss that comes with chemotherapy. Thanks to a generous grant from Swim Across the Sound, I was able to receive this amazing treatment.

What a gift it was—financially, emotionally, and mentally. Being able to keep my hair during a time when so much felt out of my control was something I can never fully repay. It allowed me to continue working part‑time and to share my story and diagnosis on my own terms. Most importantly, it allowed me to attend my daughter’s nursing school graduation without the visible hair loss that comes with cancer treatment. This support gave my family and me a sense of dignity and normalcy during an incredibly difficult time.

I was diagnosed with Triple Negative Breast Cancer in June of 2023 at 32 years old. Prior to being diagnosed, I was a primarily healthy young woman with a few autoimmune issues here and there, but had no family history of any cancer so it truly was not on my radar. My husband and I married in 2019 right before the pandemic hit and after 22 years in his field of work, he was laid off. For 14 months we worked together to find him a job that fit his skill set while I worked two jobs to support us. It was definitely stressful but we made it work. In May of 2023 he accepted an offer with a start date of July 2023 and we were on our way to getting our life back on track – family planning, saving for a house, all the things newly married couples do. So, when I found my lump during a self-exam in the shower in mid-June, the last thing I thought of was it being cancer. Looking back, I’m so happy I knew enough to call my primary care physician immediately.