One afternoon in October, as I was getting dressed, my hand brushed the right side of my right breast and I felt something. I had never been one to go to the doctor. I was rarely ill and did not even have a family doctor. Something about this particular “something” caught my attention and I recall thinking specifically that I would check again next month and if it was still there, I would see a physician. In November, it was still there. I went to see my gynecologist and he sent me for a mammogram. Getting a good image was difficult. When I asked the radiology assistant if anything was there, she looked at me with her hands on her hips and said, “Honey, you knew something was there when you came in.” I had a needle biopsy. A few weeks later, in mid-December, two days after I had accepted a new position at a different law firm, my gynecologist’s office called and asked me to come in. I could not wait; I called him and reminded him that I am not fragile and that I deal with difficult situations and bad news for living. I asked for my results over the phone. Mercifully, he gave me the answer, although the answer was difficult: I had breast cancer. I remain grateful to him for giving me the news promptly and not making me wait.

The most confusing part of the news was trying to decide what to do next. Fortunately, one of my close friends from law school was a patron of the Baylor Breast Center and was able to arrange for me to see Dr. C. Kent Osborne, MD, one of the premier breast oncologists. He and his nurse practitioner, the fabulous Mari Rude, RN, ANP, met me and started me on a journey that was difficult but that, today, I would not trade.

As it turned out, my tumor was triple negative, aggressive and non-responsive to hormone therapy. What we thought would be a quick course of radiation became a much longer course of dose-dense ACT (Adriamycin, Cytoxan, Taxol) chemotherapy. Every single complication that was explained to me as a possibility became my reality. As it turned out, I was quite sensitive to the chemotherapy. I spent a lot of time in the hospital with things like c. diff., thrush, and sepsis. On the other hand, I have a well-shaped head (who knew?!) and going around bald, with no wig, was empowering.

At the end of my course of chemotherapy, we were sent reeling by another piece of news: my genetic test had come back positive for the BRCA 1 gene. At the age of 43, I was going to have to undergo a double mastectomy and an oophorectomy to protect against recurrences and additional tumors. I am an active woman with an outdoor lifestyle. I opted for a double tram flap reconstruction, a difficult operation but the one most suited for me, long-term. I was so fortunate that Dr. Jeffrey Friedman, MD agreed to be my plastic surgeon. He is another Methodist star, world renown. I am so pleased with my results. A few months later, Dr. Karen Lu, MD and MD Anderson Cancer Center performed my oophorectomy, and, after a few nips and tucks, I was back in business.

The whole journey took a year from start to finish. I had been told by friends to expect that. The hardest part was learning to sit still and accept help. It was also the greatest gift. I had so much help from friends and family but also from people I never knew cared. It wasn’t easy but I would not trade the friends I made, the lessons I learned, the care I received, and the person I have become. I deeply appreciate the care I got from the wonderful physicians and facilities in the Houston Medical Center, and my life is richer beyond measure for the experience.

Marcy Rothman
Houston Texas
Six-Year Breast Cancer Survivor and BRCA1 Patient