My name is Anne Ridings and I have breast cancer. I found a lump in October 1999 a month after my annual check-up and just before my annual mammogram. I rushed to the doctor. He ordered an ultrasound. I waited for the results. As I recall, “An irregular mass” was the diagnosis I could have told them that! I was sent to a surgeon. He was concerned and did a needle biopsy. I waited almost a week for the result joy of joys it was negative. But this surgeon was still convinced that all was not well and insisted on an open biopsy as well. When I came round from the anaesthetic his worst suspicions were confirmed I had cancer. I was given the name of an oncologist to call and sent home.

The beginning was the worst time because all you know is that you have cancer. You don’t know anything else. You assume you’re going to die and soon. You plan your funeral. You listen to platitudes. And you wait. And you wait.

In my ignorance, I had assumed that I would be able to go in and see the oncologist virtually the next day. To my horror, I had to wait three weeks to get an appointment and all this time my imagination was indulging in the most gruesome fantasies. But eventually the day did come and I met my oncologist, a stranger who literally I felt held my life in her hands. She organized the baseline tests for me a bone scan, a catscan and numerous x-rays told me I would have chemo. Then a mastectomy. Then chemo. And finally radiation. But everything changed when the baseline test results came in, because they showed that my cancer had metastasized and was already in my bones, albeit in very small amounts. To me, this was a death sentence. But, the first thing my oncologist said to me was “We can’t cure it, but we can control it” and she told me of several cases where her patients had lived long and good lives with the same type of cancer. She also told me that I wouldn’t have chemo, or radiation or a mastectomy. Instead, I would be taking Tamoxifen therapeutically, plus another drug that would be infused every three weeks. Of course, all I really wanted to know was “How long will I live?” and of course she told me she didn’t know. She also reminded me that many people (and I suppose I was one of them) think that life is the certainty and death the uncertainty when, in reality, it’s the other way round.

That first weekend was a bad one. I was on my own (except for my dogs) and wondering how I was going to cope. I spent most of my time accessing the websites of the American Cancer Society, M D Anderson, Susan G Komen and Sloan-Kettering. I wouldn’t advise it! I have never been so depressed in my life after I read about every worst case scenario. What I really wanted was someone to talk to .. someone who knew what they were talking about someone who could help me put things in perspective. I didn’t have to wait long word spreads quickly among breast cancer survivors (that’s because they’re a very caring bunch of women) and my phone rang off the hook with calls from friends in England and America who had gone through it themselves and were still living and loving life.

Moving On

After the initial shock wore off and the treatments began, things started to get a lot better. Instead of sitting and waiting for things to happen things started moving. My tumor started to shrink little by little. The treatment I took every three weeks by infusion had no side effects. I didn’t lose my hair. I didn’t feel sick. I didn’t feel tired. Instead, I spent 2 hours in a chair with my feet up and a good book in my hands. My attitude towards my cancer started to change too I decided that as long as I felt as good as I did (and I did and I do feel good) then I would not let my cancer be the overriding factor in my life. My oncologist who is a very upbeat person thoroughly concurred. She told me I should do things “sooner rather than later” because who knows how long I will feel this good. I didn’t need telling twice. I had only recently stopped working so I decided that I was going to do what I wanted to do. And a lot of what I wanted to do was travel.

By July 2000 I was used to living with cancer, used to going for treatment and used to living life my way. It was then that a postcard from the American Cancer Society came in the mail. I’d had little to do with the ACS up till then all I’d done was to order a massive tome on cancer and several little caps to protect my head in the days when I thought I would be having chemo. And as you all know once you get on someone’s mailing list, you never get off! Anyhow the postcard said that the ACS was bringing its fund-raising walk “Making Strides Against Breast Cancer” to Houston and why didn’t I form a team. When I saw that the distance was only 4.5 miles, I thought, “even I could do that!” And for the first time since I’d been diagnosed, it made me feel that maybe I could do something positive to fight back against this dreadful and dreaded disease. That particular evening I was out at a small dinner party where all the guests were my friends. I mentioned the walk and that I was thinking of putting a team together. I said that if I did, would they walk with me. To a woman, they said “yes.” And that’s how it began.

I contacted the ACS and got a Team Captain’s kit. Next I got on the Internet and started emailing just about everyone I knew. I had one list of possible walkers (virtually all Houston-based) and another list of possible sponsors. Since the ACS had told me they could cope with checks in foreign currencies I emailed anywhere and everywhere I had friends or family. In next to no time, the answers came back, with promises to walk or promises to send money. I also did two mailings for potential walkers and sponsors who didn’t have email addresses. When the day finally came, I had a team of 39 people all of them family and friends. We had men, women, children, bicycles, strollers and even dogs on our team. Together, we raised over $8,000 more money than any other team walking that first year. It came from America (of course), England, Scotland, Australia, Austria and Germany. That first “Making Strides Against Breast Cancer” was, for me, a marvelous occasion to turn up at the George R Brown Convention Center and to be surrounded by those I cared about and to know that they cared about me. I named my team “Annie’s Bosom Buddies” and we had our own t-shirts designed for the occasion. Each one said, “I’m Annie’s Bosom Buddy.” The only one that was different was mine, which said quite simply “I’m Annie.”

In 2001, I got a team together again. Same name. Same t-shirts. Different venue. This time it was at the campus of the University of Houston. And I believe that Annie’s Bosom Buddies again raised more money than any other team last year too. On Saturday, we’ll be walking again if everyone shows up there will be over 30 of us. I know it won’t surprise you when I say that I’m finding it harder this year to raise money people are giving, but not as much.

Right Now

Why do I still feel so committed towards “Making Strides Against Breast Cancer”? I’ve been giving that quite a lot of thought these last few days and I’ve come to the conclusion that in a situation over which I personally have no control, this is something that I can take control of. I had thought about joining the American Cancer Society’s “Reach Out To Recovery” group, but decided against it. I didn’t feel that I personally would be able to provide the kind of help and insight that cancer patients are looking for. I haven’t had to go through chemo, or radiation. I haven’t lost my hair. I haven’t had a mastectomy. I haven’t been subjected to the terrible fatigue and sickness that can be part of cancer treatment. So to me the walk is something that I can do and be very proud of. It’s almost three years since I was first diagnosed with breast cancer and so far I haven’t had to call on The American Cancer Society for help. Who knows how my cancer will progress, but assuming that one day it will start to impact my life far more than it does now, then I know where I will go for help and advice.

My life has been good over the last three years. I’ve traveled Alaska by railroad and rafted for twenty miles down one of the state’s pristine rivers. I’ve been to Europe, visiting England, France and Italy. And in two weeks time I’ll be going to England again this time, for a family wedding. Do I think about my cancer a lot? Of course I do, but it’s not at the top of my list of things to worry about. Right now a hurricane called Isidore seems far more important! I consider that I am lucky to be able to receive the treatment I’m getting from a wonderful group of oncologists and nurses. I hope that by raising money for “Making Strides Against Breast Cancer” my life and the life of many others will not only be a long one, but a good one. I still go for a bone scan and a catscan every six months and so far they have shown that the small amounts of cancer that were originally detected have not spread. Long may it continue! The Tamoxifen I take daily is still proving to be an effective drug against my tumor. And when the day comes as it probably will that it loses its efficacy, then there are other drugs for me to move on to. And there are clinical trials for me to participate in. These alternatives are only possible, in part, because of funding from events such as “Making Strides Against Breast Cancer.”

When I was first diagnosed with breast cancer it all seemed so unfair after all I’d had an annual mammogram, I’d been for my yearly check-up and yet I still had cancer. Why me? Well as time moved on I started asking “Why not me?” instead. I like to think that coming here today and taking part in “Making Strides Against Breast Cancer” are just some of the ways I can show other women that you can live with cancer. And you can still have a life that’s full and fulfilling. I’ve also discovered that there is no right or wrong way to deal with cancer. For some people, it’s important to second-guess their oncologist’s every decision. For others, like me, it’s more important to trust their oncologist’s judgement and to concentrate on living and enjoying whatever lifespan is left. You just have to do what feels right to you.

One of the very few good things about having cancer is that it gives you an opportunity to reflect on your life and evaluate what matters and what doesn’t. So what have I learned since I was first diagnosed?

That we should all live each day as though it were our last.

That we should do the things we’ve dreamed of while we can.

And that good friends and family are the richest treasures of all.

Thank you.