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November 10

St. James, Jacobs Prairie

A visiting priest at St. James, Father Nathan Becker, delivered an engaging homily about the afterlife, how our choices on earth can make our conditions like heaven or hell, and how our choices can connect to the afterlife. Fundamentally, he spoke about how we change. Even though we may hear the same gospel every few years, we change so the effect of the story changes. This week was 2 Maccabees 7:1-2, 9-14 , about the martyrdom of the Jewish mother and her seven sons. Father Becker connected the readings and the gospel to the overall November liturgical themes of death, judgement, heaven and hell. Just like people who buy a white vehicle and then notice more white vehicles, ever since my terminal diagnosis, I focused on all the mention of the afterlife, the hour of our death, etc. Essentially, Father’s point that we change fit perfectly for me  considering that the gospels have not changed, but I saw them with a different lens. Instead of being distracted or connecting the story to work, I now felt some urgency to prepare my soul. I wanted my soul to be fully trained for death, but I was not ready to be faced with that anytime soon. #Ready#NotReady

Relay for Life

As a child I read from a children’s Bible that had colorful and very graphic pictures of the tortured seven Maccabee brothers with limbs chopped off and gushing blood and also the head of John the Baptist on a platter. Though the story is the same, I have changed greatly.

In 2008 my initial diagnosis was invasive ductal carcinoma, estrogen and progesterone positive and HER2 negative. The recurrence in my lymph nodes in 2016 was ductal, estrogen and progesterone negative and Her2 positive. The story was the same: I still had breast cancer, but the subtype changed.

I revisited my initial diagnosis and treatment and read some of a journal I kept where I found an old speech. I had been a speaker at the American Cancer Society’s Relay for Life in Paynesville in 2009, where I was able to share my story with all attendees.  I shared some of the good, the bad, and the ugly, the things I learned, but most importantly, I discussed some of the ways my diagnosis changed me:

Hi, I’m Linda Liebl, wife of Scott, mom to Mack and Ben, daughter to James and MaryAnn Fasbender,  A Paynesville class of ’88 grad. Go bulldogs; ROCORI teacher, go Spartans, and an 18 month survivor of cancer. I’ve survived cancer. It’s nice to be able to say that in the past tense but  I still have moments when I can’t believe I was diagnosed with cancer. My story:  It was a dark and stormy night, well it was right before Halloween 2008—talk about scary!   I was healthy, seldom had even a cold when I found a little lump, 8 of 10 are benign. Not me. I’m too young, short, healthy, feisty to have cancer. My odds were less than 1% to develop cancer at my age. I had a mammogram and an ultrasound with results delivered later the same day—when my doctor said he would prefer to make a house call to deliver the news, I knew it wasn’t good. A biopsy showed invasive ductal carcinoma. We planned for a lumpectomy and radiation. But thankfully my oncologist ordered an MRI and it detected another tumor. Did I just say thankfully and tumor in the same sentence?  I figure it was a blessing that we found the second tumor instead of having to deal with it later. Another biopsy diagnosed that second tumor as invasive lobular carcinoma and likely to spread. Two different types of cancer at the same time is rare plus at a young age. A double mammy whammy!  I really am 1 in a million. It was easy to decide that bilateral mastectomy was the best option for me. A 10 hour surgery was scheduled December 19th which was seven weeks away, but seemed like an eternity. I wasn’t keen on silicon or any other foreign substance being added so I opted for a plastic surgery option for immediate reconstruction using my own stomach tissue and fat for the new tenants. Combine that with a previous knee surgery creating an anterior cruciate ligament from my hamstring, well heck, I am Mrs. Potato Head!    As a student of cancer, I was a quick study researching, getting options, our lives revolving around appointments, biopsies, consultations.

What did I learn was the hardest part?   (pause for effect)   Waiting for results. Is it malignant, has it spread, will I need chemo?  What stage?  What are my chances of recurrence?  Is it hereditary?  What about Scott, the boys, work?    I lost countless hours of sleep with my mind racing. Tests that I couldn’t study for with results that were so much more important than any I’d ever taken. Lots of questions. Lots of options. Ultimately I became more patient. A more patient  Patient.

Relay for Life’s charge words are Celebrate. Remember. Fight Back. Celebrate we did. The night before surgery we dined with friends at Hooters saying “ta ta to the tatas.” Then celebrating every test result that came back in our favor.

Celebrate: This student of cancer kept a handy, small notebook of all the appointments,  medications and test results, since in some cases negative is positive—like my nodes being negative meaning it hadn’t spread and was considered stage I . In other cases positive was positive as in the tumors being estrogen and progesterone positive, receptive to chemo and medications as follow-up treatment for 10 years. The tumors were also HER2 negative which is positive. I was jealous of my lab samples that were shipped to sunny California during January to help determine my odds of recurrence and the absolute benefit of chemotherapy. Ultimately it was clear that chemo would be in my best interest so then I learned that a course of chemo is the entire plan, divided in rounds set apart by time referred to as cycles. When my hair started falling out in earnest 2 weeks after the first chemo treatment, my family gathered in the Salon de Liebl and created a few classic hairstyles—the Mohawk, mullet—before shaving it all down. Later as the hair started growing back we celebrated by having my son Ben take my picture every Monday for 30 weeks, morphing the pictures together and creating a unique video montage “chia Linda” like the plant and posting it on YouTube. More celebration when samples shipped off to Utah for genetic testing indicated it was BRCA negative or not heredity which is a great thing to share with your mom, sister, aunts,  nieces, and 22 female first cousins!   And throughout the experience, a test of faith. So many times I heard “God won’t give you anything you can’t handle.”  I think much of my personality was created for fighting cancer. I’m optimistic, tenacious, and somewhere in my life I completely lost the ability to be embarrassed and lots about cancer is embarrassing—your scarf blows off, just when you think you have enough hair to go out in public little girls stare at you in absolute horror,  you wash your face and your eyebrows are suddenly gone, buying constipation meds at the grocery store and the check-out is a student in my class.

Remember. To describe the experience in one word: Overwhelming. The overwhelming sense of support far exceeded the physical toll and mental anguish. From my family—Scott who was there for every appointment, asking all the right questions and helping me understand medical terms, decipher mathematical odds, and make decisions. Mack and Ben for being the wonderful young men that you are and handling this with positive attitudes. My family, co-workers, students, church, community for wearing pink, for hats and scarves,  for prayers, for amazing meals and kind words. Surgeons, doctors, radiologists, oncologists, nurses, pharmacy, lab a huge shout out to the Paynesville Health Care System —every medical person gave me their best effort. I have cried many more happy tears than sad from the overwhelming support, like a card I’ll always treasure from Steph, a student who lost her battle with cancer. And Roxy, a recent widow with an uplifting message. A Cancer Sucks t-shirt from a young man in the midst of his battle against leukemia. A student of cancer, I learned from these people suffering their own tragedies how to keep your sense of humor when times are tough, what to expect from IV ports, chemo etc. The most important lesson this student of cancer learned how to accept help from others.

Fight Back. Now I am someone who can provide support and answers. I like being the teacher more than the student! I have no idea why I got cancer (was it because I didn’t eat the crust on my bread when I was little? I will likely never know the reason, but I’m ever thankful that it was treatable and for the research, chemotherapy, pharmaceuticals, clinical trials, every other person who had this experience before me. I can’t stop anyone else from getting cancer but I can show that it is not a death sentence or completely devastating. I’m hoping my experience raises awareness for others that despite the odds, cancer can happen to anyone at any time. My charge to you is be aware—do whatever you can personally to prevent cancer. As for me, I’m a better person for it. I’ve graduated from the school of cancer.

—

Well, graduated, but not finished. As I re-read the speech, I saw how my story has stayed the same and I have changed. My reactions to initial diagnosis, recurrence, and metastatic cancer were eerily similar: shock, sleepless nights, being overwhelmed with support from friends, coworkers and family. Pink. So much pink. Ben pointed out that all three diagnoses were in or close to October; I even started to wonder if I was some poster boob for breast cancer. I think I held my breath during the entire month of October 2019 waiting for metastatic progression.

After the first diagnosis’ chemotherapy and surgery, I followed my oncologist for five years while I faithfully took tamoxifen. Because of the side effects, the majority of patients do not complete the five years. At seven years post diagnosis, the oncologist felt strongly that it was early stage cancer and treated aggressively so no follow-ups were needed. I asked about odds for recurrence and he mulled a bit and said, “10 to 15 percent chance.” Considering there were no tests or scans to check, we decided I would not follow-up anymore. If I had any concerns in the future, Dr. E assured me that he had a low threshold for scanning, mentioning bones, lungs, and liver as spots where recurrence with ductal cancer occurred.

We parted ways as I said, “Don’t take this wrong, but I hope I never see you again.” He smiled and nodded. His face could not have looked more different when we returned in 2016.