Part One in a Three Part Seires

Part Two
Part Three

Walk Before You Run
A Healthy Woman’s Story of Breast Cancer

By Wendy Berton Handwerger

I was diagnosed with breast cancer a few weeks ago. While this news is not remarkable considering that millions of people are diagnosed with cancer each year, it was shocking for someone like me. Of course, it’s shocking for everyone and each person has their own unique experience. This one should not be a sad tale of woe but a realistic, humorous and positive story.

My husband, teenage daughter, and I moved from New York six years ago in search of a healthier, more affordable, and less stressful lifestyle. We certainly found it here in Oregon. I am a woman in her late 40s who is the epitome of good health. I lead a running group “Run 4 UR Life!” who just completed a half marathon this summer, and teach Water Fitness for Portland Parks and Recreation. I am also the dictated walker to our adorable pug Starr.

Walking has always been the exercise that I never questioned and thought I’d be able to do forever. I eat healthy, gluten and red meat free. I really don’t do anything in excess except enjoy life. Does this sound like the story of someone who is sick? We are also a family very committed to philanthropy. My “gig” is giving to others and being strong. To be this person and diagnosed with breast cancer is surprising and hard to digest. When I told most people I am close to about my cancer they were thinking exactly what I thought, “If Wendy can get it, then is anyone immune?” Friends, family, and co-workers have been verbalizing this fear and rightly so.

The point of this story is two-fold: Getting breast cancer is random. Approximately 90% of those diagnosed are not genetic; the other point is early detection is paramount. Get your yearly mammograms. The very capable technician who told me I needed a biopsy made a humorous observation when I seemed surprised, as most people are when they are in my shoes. Mammograms are not a preventative measure — they are to detect breast cancer. We think, “But I had my yearly mammogram — how could this happen!” I want to be clear; I am not going to die and I have low grade breast cancer. Hopefully after my lumpectomy, I will be this positive as my journey continues. And let’s be real; many of us like myself have more than we need and live pretty good lives. It’s not how we behave in good times but how we handle adversity – that’s the real test and challenge. Walking will be helpful in maintaining a positive attitude and healthy outlook.

A support system is important. Besides my amazing husband of 16 years, daughter, and dog, I am blessed with a sister that may live 3,000 miles away but couldn’t be more available with daily phone calls and much laughter — the best medicine! She actually came up with a “theme song” for me: The ’80s tune by The Firm I’m Radioactive, hoping that I will only need radiation and not chemotherapy.
I’m not saying breast cancer is “funny,” but why should we stop laughing? I am also fortunate to have a best friend from high school who is Director of Neuro-Surgery and Oncology at a New York hospital who is not only helping professionally, but offers her humor and support. Also my other closest high school, college and Oregonian friends and colleagues are what keeps me positive daily. The thought of being able to get out for a walk with them is a constant motivator. Walking is literally the carrot dangling in front of my nose — the realistic reward I am looking forward to doing.

I feel healthy right now. This is a mantra that I hope people will share as they are diagnosed with breast cancer and hold on to as they go through treatment, see the light at the end of the tunnel and know they can feel this way again. The word “cancer” has certain negative and scary connotations but it does not have to define who you are. After various meetings with amazingly competent doctors and staff, it dawned on my husband and I that the most positive discussion we had was the fact that we hoped I will be able to “walk out” of the hospital on my own two feet after surgery; to literally be able to “walk” and to resume my healthy active lifestyle immediately by again “walking;” the gateway to recovery. Then I can move on to running the Susan G. Komen “Race for the Cure” September 20th. I pre-registered after my diagnosis. But I will walk before I run and that’s good.