For nearly four decades now, the U.S. has recognized October as National Breast Cancer Awareness Month. It is a time annually devoted to educating everyone about breast cancer— and the importance of early detection and access to timely, high-quality care.
Yet even in the face of public relations efforts that confront us everywhere, many women like us become complacent, or consider ourselves outside the risk group, or just don’t make time in our busy lives for something as apparently simple and accessible.
When this moving, straight-from-the-heart narrative from a neighbor and regular contributor to our newspaper pages arrived, we instantly recognized how important it was to publish it, in all its insight and immediacy. Donnice Carruth, known to many as Spur’s librarian, lays out the uncomfortable truths about obtaining timely health assessments: navigating the world of doctors and clinics isn’t always simple, but the consequences of not finding a way could be devastating. Carruth’s first-person account provides inspiration for women everywhere. Schedule an exam. Find a doctor. Get it done. Now.
Clip out this story and pass it along to the women in your life. Copy it and share it widely, we don’t mind. And thank the author for her bravery in sharing it. —The Editors
I am a perfectly healthy 65-year-old woman. Okay, maybe not perfectly healthy. I am a bit overweight, but as far as health problems go I have been extremely fortunate.
When asked by health care professionals the standard questions such as “What medications are you taking on a regular basis?” my answer is None.
When asked about hospitalizations, my answer is Three times. The first, April 12, 1978; the second, December 12, 1980; the last, September 12, 1984. Those are the birthdays of my children.
I am a perfectly healthy 65-year-old woman except for one thing . . . I was diagnosed with breast cancer a few weeks ago.
Being a perfectly healthy person has its drawbacks. You don’t feel like you need to go to the doctor as often as you should. I’m ashamed to say when asked ”When was your last mammogram?” I didn’t know the answer.
I couldn’t even remember where I got my last mammogram. Cancer has never been a concern genetically in my family bloodline. My dad passed away with mesothelioma lung cancer a few years ago, but Dad had been a heavy smoker for most of his life and he had also been exposed to asbestos. I smoked but quit well over 20 years ago. I wasn’t the least bit worried about cancer. I was more worried about issues my weight could cause—issues other family members deal with, such as high blood pressure and diabetes.
I can’t even claim that the reason I found the lump in my breast was doing the self-checking that is often promoted during October, which is breast cancer awareness month. I just had an itch and felt something strange on my left breast.
I said out loud to my husband, “I think I feel a lump.” He felt and agreed. This was in June. It really felt surreal, and I just started going over in my mind what to do.
This is where not having a regular doctor is a real disadvantage. A few years ago, when I was faithful to my body and checkups, I could have called my doctor’s office and they would have gotten me right in to see my regular doctor. But right now I didn’t have one.
After a few days I went into my “if you don’t think about it it’s not real” mode. That is definitely not a good attitude to have. I pushed the worry to the back of my mind, and it worked. I didn’t think about it— therefore it wasn’t there.
Wrong again. While showering one morning I felt the lump again, and all the fears came rushing back, but intensified this time. Okay, I thought, I’ve got to do something. This thing is not going to go away on its own.
I had the phone number of my daughter’s doctor in the Dallas area. Earlier, when I’d casually discussed not having been to a doctor in a few years, she had asked me why I. I told her I didn’t know where to start my search in finding a new one after we’d moved.
She said, “Come visit me and go to mine.” She spoke to her doctor, who agreed to see me at some point. That was months before the lump. I hadn’t acted immediately.
Now I did. I called to schedule an appointment but learned the first available date was for a couple of months away. I explained to the receptionist about finding the lump, and she advised me to go ahead and get a mammogram done prior to the appointment.
I thought, ”What’s the rush? My appointment wasn’t for several weeks. Again, I pushed it back in my mind and didn’t schedule the exam right away. When I finally did call to schedule it, I was told I would need a referral from my doctor prior to getting the procedure done. I provided the new doctor’s information.
But right before my scheduled mammogram I received a call: the new doctor couldn’t refer me, as she had not seen me yet.
I’m sorry, what? I was grasping for straws, but at that point I called the last doctor I had used regularly. It had been a while since my last visit. I told his nurse about my predicament, and explained that I urgently needed a referral for a mammogram because I’d found a lump in my breast.
“Absolutely, we will give you a referral,” she said. “Just tell me where to send it.” Angels do walk among us.
To that point my husband and I had not discussed any of this with anyone except the doctors’ offices . For one thing, we didn’t know anything for sure and didn’t want anyone worrying needlessly.
The following week I went in for the mammogram, and since we were dealing with a known lump, I also had an ultrasound, an addition screening procedure. The ultrasound technician conferred with the radiologist and they scheduled me for a biopsy the following week. And it was time to tell our grown children what was going on.
When the results of the biopsy were back, I went to the referring doctor’s office. He said the pathology report showed a rare lesion, which he had sent to the Mayo Clinic for their evaluation. He had only seen this type twice in his career, he said, and mine was the second. I was told I would be informed when they received the results.
My appointment with the Dallas doctor was coming up, so we decided to obtain the copies of my records just in case, and take them there with us.
The worry was growing, as I knew hardly anything about my situation. I had been avoiding anything I might discover on the Internet because I know how easy it is to see one thing and panic.
On our way home from the doctor’s office I opened the packet of records in it and read some of the pathology report. Knowing better I googled the name of the lesion and began reading some of the highlighted words. Not good. Highly aggressive . . . fast growing . . . does not respond . . . life expectancy. . . .
Stop! The fear started really seeping in now. I shoved the papers back into the manila envelope and closed it up.
At home that evening I took them out again, leaving Google where it belonged—turned off. Reading the report more closely, I spotted the word “benign.”
That’s all I focused on, that single word. Therefore, in my mind—relief. Whew! I put the papers away again, told my husband, texted my kids. Now everything was as it should be. We decided we didn’t want to have to go to a doctor so far away, and with the help of the patient advocate at the radiology center we found a doctor associated with them nearby.
I cancelled my other appointment and rescheduled with the new doctor. I felt better about things, but still chose not to tell my mother until I knew everything.
Another week passed, and still not having heard from my previous doctor the results of the pathology report from the Mayo Clinic, the worry set back in. But I suspected that if the news had been good, the nurse would have called me.
A week later my husband went with me to see the new doctor. While going through the routine questioning with the nurse, I asked if they had the report from the Mayo clinic.
They did, she said, and the doctor would be going over that with us. That should have alerted me. I asked, in all innocence, if that test indicated “benign” like the other one.
She said, “Where did you get that? It is definitely not benign.”
What we learned from the doctor shattered any perception I’d been living with. What I had was rare, she said, and usually is found in the lungs, but can spread to the breast. It was a aggressive type and fast growing and doesn’t respond well to traditional treatments such as chemotherapy and radiation. In her opinion, surgery and complete removal of the tumor and surrounding tissues would be the best treatment.
Without hesitation I asked, “When can you do it?” My surgery was scheduled for eight days later. Without using horrifying words like malignant, aggressive, fast growing, or the like, we let our kids know I would undergo surgery the following week.
I wished the doctor could have wheeled me into the operating room right then and there. The following week was a haze. I didn’t sleep. I imagined every conceivable outcome—usually not good ones. I prayed. I didn’t pray for God to heal me; I prayed for God to give me strength to handle whatever he had in store for me.
Following my surgery, while I was still in recovery, my doctor stopped by my bed to check on me. I said to her woozily, “I still haven’t told my mom.” She replied, “You tell your mom that you had cancer but Dr. Rahman took it out of you.”
And apparently she had. In my post-op checkup the following week the pathology report showed no markers of the cancer in the margins of tissue. Dr. Rahman was confident she got it all.
I will see an oncologist in a couple of months. I have a follow-up appointment with my surgeon in six months. For now, I am feeling much better about everything.
One thing is for sure: I will never again take my health for granted. I will have regularly scheduled checkups. I will do self-checks routinely.
I will be aware, not just in October . . . but every month of the year.
Donnice Hinson Carruth is a native of Spur, Texas, and librarian at the Spur Dickens County Public Library since 2019. She’s thrilled to have celebrated her 47th high school class reunion at last week’s Spur Homecoming celebration—in fine health and spirits.
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