Notes from a Survivor

As we celebrate the Breast Center reaccreditation of the William R. Bliss Cancer Center, we wanted to hear from a survivor about their experience. Joanne Hansson kindly offered to share her story. She’s a tough woman with a dry, sarcastic sense of humor, traits that served her well when she faced breast cancer twice.

I was first diagnosed in 2012 and then had a reoccurrence in 2014. In 2012, I found a lump but was in denial for several months. I finally did a basic mammogram and then did a magnified mammogram. At that time, I don't think the technology was nearly what it is now. Then we did the biopsy. A really frightening time.

It was the staff, the people at the Bliss Cancer Center, and I can't emphasize this enough, that got me through this.

I had worked in medical records, so I knew a lot of the docs. I wanted Dr. (Bruce) Hardy as my surgeon, and Dr. (Debra) Prow had just joined Bliss. I knew that I wanted her for my oncologist. Hardy was the best. We had the same sense of humor and clicked immediately. If you don’t trust and like your provider, you’re done. Prow and I also clicked. I knew from the get-go that I was going to be in good hands.

I remember my first day of chemo. The day they stick the needle in your port, you realize you can't get anybody to substitute for you. You can't say, ‘Well, I don't want to do it today. Can you do it for me?’ You really have to take ownership of you. Your mental health does some obviously bizarre things and there are days that you just don't think you can do it.

For somebody who always kind of knew where she was going to go and what she was going to do, to realize that at that moment that it’s not in my hands anymore was huge. That moment follows you through the rest of your life.

The first treatment regimen was horrible. Your hair falls out, you're throwing up—take the Zofran before you get nauseous, not when you think you're going to vomit, that's just a word to the wise. Dr. Hardy had done the lumpectomy, then put the port in and did all that for the chemo. Radiation wasn’t going to be an option, so I had to have a mastectomy. I had my lumpectomy in February of 2012. I had my mastectomy in September of 2012. That was the right side. And so, we’re done. Home free, hallelujah. Or so I thought.

I was introduced to the therapy pool in the basement of the Med Arts Building and started doing water therapy, which was a lifesaver. I remember the day I went in to take a shower and I'm like, ‘Oh no, no, no, no, no, no.’ Another lump. I call oncology. I've got oncology on my speed dial. Prow sends me right to radiology for a mammogram. Another needle biopsy.

Things advance in cancer care. My first time, around, testing for the BRCA gene costs thousands of dollars and was not payable by insurance. It was not a possibility. The second time around, Mary Ellen Carano (now retired Cancer Resource Center coordinator, God love her, tells me, ‘Oh, by the way, we can BRCA test you now.’ It came back positive for BRCA2, which meant another mastectomy.

I had chemotherapy again and this time they decided to go after my blood with some kind of wonderful cocktail mixture. I had the port put in again, and I said to (Dr. Mark) Taylor: ‘Maybe we should just install a zipper, some Velcro or something.’ He didn't think that was very funny, but I thought it was hysterical.

Chemo puts fences around you physically and teaches you how to self-monitor. They tell you you’re going to be tired and you think, yeah, ‘I’ve been tired before.’ But, oh, no. Being tired is one thing, having the zap just zapped out of you is a fatigue like no other. Then you get that blood transfusion, they give you one pint of Spider-Man and one pint of Wonder Woman, and you could literally jump out of that chair and run a mile.

Chemo was different this time. It destroyed a lot of red blood cells and white blood cells. There were many blood transfusions. But, once the treatment was completed, my body took back over and started producing what it was supposed to. Because of my status as a BRCA carrier, the possibility for ovarian cancer was very high. In 2014, Dr. (Ann) Gessner at the Doran Clinic, who is just an angel, did a total hysterectomy with the da Vinci robot. All I needed was four Band Aids and a Tylenol. And then I was done. No problems since.

Dr. (Gene) Glass helped me a lot. I saw him after my treatment because I was having a tough time. If that resource wasn’t there, I don’t know what I would have done. (Dr. Glass was a psychologist with the Cancer Resource Center. He is retired but the center still offers psychological services.)

Did the cancer journey make me stronger? Yes. That process enabled me to face what came after­—the death of my husband, Gunnar. I'd go through chemo 10 more times if I could have him back. But had I not had that experience, I think the grief would have been a lot worse. I mean, grief is grief, but the ability to process the grief would have been much more difficult.

I've been a participant in the American Cancer Society’s Relay for Life. During the course of the evening, cancer survivors are asked to stand up and be recognized. If someone going through cancer approaches me I try to be as kind as I can be. When other people share that they have a diagnosis, I share with them that the technology has come so far and now there's a big emphasis on genetic testing. I always encourage that as much as I can.

I have a strong belief in God. I have a dog. I go for walks, finding peace and grace in the park. I love gardening. I'm going to plant a garden, grow a tomato, eat the tomato. It’s watching stuff grow, the rebirth and the seasons of the year, that give us all hope.

Join Us to Celebration National Cancer Survivors Day

This meaningful day brings our community together to recognize survivorship and celebrate progress in cancer care. We invite you to join us in honoring & supporting cancer survivors.

Learn more & RSVP for the event.