Doris Cardwell received a life-changing diagnosis of inflammatory breast cancer in 2007. While undergoing treatment, she co-founded a mentor program for the cancer center treating her. She also created community events to educate, encourage and empower people regarding cancer. Doris was the first Survivorship Community Outreach Liaison for her local cancer center. She is an advocate, educator and encourager on issues facing cancer survivors. Doris is a wife, mother, empty nester, survivor of life and lover of all things coffee. An avid speaker and blogger, she is available at 

Doris Cardwell

Becoming a woman with only one breast is not something I had ever planned for or thought about. Even though it has been my reality for the last 17 years, I still try not to think about it.

I avoid thinking about it because doing so might open doors I'd rather keep closed. I keep a list on my desk of things I can and cannot control. Having had breast cancer falls into the category of what I could not control.

I had inflammatory breast cancer. In 2007, the standard of care was not to undergo reconstruction for at least five years. I decided that if I made it to the five-year mark in good health, I wouldn’t want to have another surgery. By that point, I would have endured chemotherapy, radiation and two surgeries. The surgeries included a mastectomy and a preventative hysterectomy (surgical removal of the uterus).

So, 12 years ago, when I reached that five-year milestone in good health, I chose not to reconstruct. This was a very personal decision. The reasons for reconstructing or not reconstructing are different for every woman. I don’t judge any woman for the choice she makes in this regard. Each of us is different and should feel free to choose the path that feels right for our own situation.

I bring this up because, unfortunately, people don’t always have good manners. I know they don’t mean to be rude, but as I’ve said, this is a deeply personal choice. It’s not a topic for discussion in the checkout line at the grocery store or while waiting at the bank.

Because I often wear a compression sleeve, people frequently ask what I did to my arm. I usually say that I had lymph nodes removed. Most people then ask why, so I tell them I had cancer. Then they often want to know what kind. A few kind souls will ask if I’m healthy now and leave it at that. Others don’t consider how I might feel about further questions.

What is it about having breast cancer that makes total strangers ask whether doctors "took off" my breast? What makes them ask if I chose to reconstruct? And why do so many feel compelled to tell me about their aunt, friend or cousin who died from it? I know I could shut down the conversation by saying, "That’s none of your business," but that’s hard for me. I’m a people person, and I don’t like making others uncomfortable.

Recently, someone asked me what cancer took away from me. I took a deep breath and explained that cancer didn’t just change my life. Cancer altered the trajectory of my entire family’s life. Breast cancer took body parts and more, but it also brought some positives. I am more compassionate and patient now. And that’s a good thing. Because without those qualities, I wouldn’t respond kindly to people who ask intrusive questions. I might ask them if their manners had been removed.

I may never get used to the fact that strangers feel comfortable inquiring about the status of my breast. But I choose to continue educating people on what it’s like to be a breast cancer survivor. I also try to watch my own conversations with strangers to be sure I am not doing the same.

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I am still struggling to navigate the intrusive questions of well-meaning strangers 17 years after surviving inflammatory breast cancer. 

Strangers, Manners and a Personal Side of Breast Cancer 

It is a bright spring day, tomorrow the weather is forecasted to take a turn for the worse. Cold temperatures, snow and wind are on the way. You would never know that looking or walking outside today, but I am aware, due to the weather forecast of the impending change. Cancer, unlike the weather, often does not give a forecast or a warning.

Three families that I am aware of this month have felt a sudden shift driven by cancer. Three families are grieving the loss that cancer sometimes creates. Three families’ lives are permanently changed, grandchildren will not see their grandparents anymore. Children will not see fathers or mothers. These things happen in every family, I am aware. Someone else I know is grieving the loss of an adult child who was struck by a car. I know cancer is not the only thing that creates grief and loss, but cancer has become so common. No one is immune to the effects of it.

Cancer survivors have firsthand knowledge of how quickly life can take a turn for the worse. This knowledge is something that has driven me to make a few changes. I wish I could say I have made all the changes I want to make. In my heart, I know that I have not. I sometimes ask myself, why, when I have been given more years, would I not use every moment to finish my list of changes. The answer to that question runs deep.

Change is hard because we are human. I was just talking to a professional about this. Change is not hard because we are lazy or inept, it is because we are human beings. I have had to let that soak in, bit by bit. I always thought change was hard in some areas due to a lack of desire or motivation. When I think about being human, I know I am imperfect. But somehow people can think that once you have gone through cancer you should be superhuman. You should always be able to make lemonade when life gives you lemons. Build a bridge to get over it or use it for the good of other people. The reality is, that while coming through cancer can be filled with blessings, it can also leave scars.

Some of the scars we carry can make it even more difficult to change. As I continue to work through my list of things I need to change, I realize how much cancer still impacts me today. I realize I need to give myself grace because life has been A LOT at times. I can be thankful to be alive and hold that immense thankfulness. While I am still looking and working through the list of things I want to do or need to change to become who I want to be. One thing that has been easy for me to change post-cancer is this: if I love or appreciate someone, I make sure to tell them. It is now common for me to end phone calls from friends with I love you or I appreciate you. Before cancer, I was not so quick to do that.

Practice makes perfect, some people say, I say persistence makes progress. If you are a survivor struggling to make changes for better health, you are not alone. If you are a survivor struggling to process emotions, you are not alone. Life takes turns, but rest assured, you are not the only one who struggles with the turns. Reach out, communicate, find someone you can talk with. Get support from other survivors. Whatever it takes to help you see that many cancer survivors are on the same journey of change as you.

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Finding support as a cancer survivor helps me get through the unpredictable twists and turns of cancer. 

The Sudden Twists and Turns of Cancer

There are some moments in my cancer journey that left indelible marks on my soul. Having grown up in an abusive home, I had years of internal struggles coming to peace with my body. When I received my diagnosis of breast cancer, I knew that the parts of my body that had suffered abuse as a child could now cause my death. I couldn't let my brain stay there, but I did have some thoughts in that vein. Especially when one of my friends asked me if I thought my husband would leave me if I lost my breasts. I rolled my eyes at how dumb I thought that comment was.

My illness forced us to return to our home area after living in another state for five years. We were seeing people who had not seen our children in five years. People often commented on how beautiful our girls were. They all had long dark hair and beautiful smiles. Our oldest was 12 when we left and 17 when we returned. The one common and constant thing I was hearing about her was how she looked just like me. It didn't sink in for this always-self-image-challenged woman, until one day while I was folding laundry. It had been a particularly difficult day and God must have known I needed this.

As I was folding laundry, this thought hit me out of the blue. If they say she is beautiful, and she looks just like me, then I can't be ugly, because she isn't ugly. It took folding several more towels before I could process what that thought meant.

All my life, hearing I was ugly, made me deep down believe it. But I knew in my heart what people were saying about all our daughters was true. When I talked this out with a close friend that afternoon, she looked at me with tears rolling down her face. I said, “So this means all the people who told me I was ugly, weren't telling the truth?” She told me, “Yes, that means they were not telling the truth and you didn't deserve that.”

I am so thankful cancer gave me the opportunity to unearth a lie I had believed and replace it with a truth. It is a terrible thing when people crush our spirits and can be hard to overcome.

For me, none of this is about how I do or don't look. It is about finding some healing from the damage done to me as a child. It is about learning to be ok no matter how my body looks. It is about realizing that even in difficult times if we are open to it, we can find positive moments to hold onto.

I believe we are all created with a purpose and walking for that purpose is the most beautiful thing. I know my purpose is in part to share that healing from childhood trauma is possible. Cancer was part of that journey and while I never wanted to have cancer, and hate it, I can appreciate this aspect of it. Cancer is a terrible disease that affects way too many people. But even in its awfulness, there can be good moments along the way.

Cancer is a terrible disease, but sometimes it offers an important perspective I wouldn't have had otherwise.

Cancer Replaced an Ugly Lie With a Beautiful Truth 

Have you ever been to a carnival and walked into a house of horrors or a funhouse? Often a place where all the mirrors play tricks on you and make you look different than you really do. Usually in these amusement park attractions, there are weird things. Things that make you feel scared or uncomfortable for a minute.

I was 38 years old the first time I had to be fitted for a prosthesis and mastectomy bra. Let me tell you this, women are not meant to shop for underwear besides bedside toilets. Yet that is what happened to me. The town I got treatment in only had mastectomy garments at medical supply stores. There were no cute boutiques with lush carpeting and pretty things to look at. To get to the bra area you had to walk through the canes, walkers, lift chairs and bedside commodes.

A few years later, I found a boutique in a neighboring town. I went there for a few years and while it was an improvement, it still felt wrong to me. I wanted to go look for styles I liked and decide what to try on, as I had done before cancer. I quickly learned that was not an option for me because of the store policies to comply with insurance. I had to make an appointment, sometimes weeks ahead. At each appointment, a certified fitter had to ask me a slew of questions, weigh me and measure me each time I went. Then she left the room and came back with the styles and sizes she deemedappropriate. And to have to put a robe on backward and pull the fabric taught for approval was not in my comfort zone. I don't know about you, but I am not always in the mood to have someone look at each garment I try on. It's a bra —surely, I know if it is comfortable or not.

I took a close friend of mine to the medical supply store with me once to get a bra when I couldn’t get an appointment at the boutique. We got back in the car and my normally talkative friend was speechless. She looked at me and finally said, "Well that was just awful." My response was, “I know, right?!”

I do want to say that I appreciated the diligence of the bra fitters. I understand the necessity for them to do things according to store policy. I am just saying that it is not set up in a manner that works well for everyone.

For me, it is bad enough to have to call the doctor's office and ask for the prescription for it. But to also have to say how many bras you want is humiliating. So I did what I think we all sometimes do when we want to escape uncomfortable things, I improvised.

I decided enough is enough. I stopped wearing mastectomy bras. My prosthesis I am sure isn't the proper size for me anymore, but I stopped caring. I wear a normal bra that I can go buy all on my own any style I want, any time I want. I have my prosthesis from seven years ago and I stuff it into the normal bra. Now this means that sometimes other people may catch a glimpse of my prosthesis. It doesn't always sit in there well. If you have seen that, I am sorry, butit could always be worse!

It also means that sometimes I have forgotten my prosthesis and left it at home when I went to work. One day I called my coworker who was out running errands and asked her to run by my house. I called our daughter who was home that day and asked her to go get it out of my room and put it in a bag. So my coworker, who thankfully was also a friend, went by my house. My daughter handed her the bag. So basically, she brought my boob to work in a bag. Not everyone can say they have done that! Sometimes you just have to do what you have to do.

In the whole scope of things, we all have to do what seems right to us. I long for the day that being a cancer survivor is more people focused in these areas. More and more cancer centers are making prosthetics and bras available inside their walls. Which I am thinking might be much more comfortable.

At this point, not everyone has access to these nicer places. I hold hope that one day no breast cancer survivor will have to go to a medical supply store for bras. But until then, I will keep doing the best I can to patiently position my one prosthesis in place!

After a while, I stopped caring about wearing a mastectomy bra and did was what comfortable to me: wearing a regular bra.

Doris Cardwell

Strangers, Manners and a Personal Side of Breast Cancer

The Sudden Twists and Turns of Cancer

Cancer Replaced an Ugly Lie With a Beautiful Truth

Bras, Breasts and Bedside Toilets

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