The Wicked Witch of the Breast

29May08

Twenty plus years ago, the Wicked Witch of the Breast paid the first of three visits to the McIntyre household.

At age 44, my mom (ironically, her name is Dorothy) was diagnosed with breast cancer — the same disease that killed her mother (the grandmother I never knew) when my mom was only 21. My mom’s cancer was invasive, but the tumor was very small. Shortly after being diagnosed, she successfully underwent surgery and radiation treatment.

Twelve years later, the Wicked Witch unleashed the Winged Monkeys on my mom, who was diagnosed with a totally different form of breast cancer that accounts for only 10 percent of breast cancer cases. She found herself staring down the scalpel of a double mastectomy and intensive chemotherapy.  The Wicked Bitch was no match for my mom, who, in spite of all odds against her, completed her treatment and lived for seven years cancer free.

Then came the poision poppies.  In 2004, we learned that my mom’s cancer had recurred in her bones.  Even with the help of the Wizard of Oz (a.k.a. Dr. Steve Scates), my mom will never escape the clutches of the Wicked Witch, as the cancer in her bones can not be surgically removed.

It’s been four years since my mom was diagnosed the third time. Inside the four walls of my mom’s oncologist’s offices lie cabinets full of thick folders that tell the grim story of her unending battle with cancer. Four oncologists, two radiologists, three psychologists, an orthopedic surgeon, a physical therapist, six hospitalizations and countless medical treatments later, she continues to fight the good fight.

Here’s to you, mom.  And the many others like you who are battling to hold on to their ruby slippers.

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Tags: 2008, Breast Cancer, Cancer, Cancer Sucks, Wicked Witch of the Breast