The Day That Changed My Life - Inflammatory Breast Cancer

Melissa recently had her mammogram where everything came back fine. However, a month later, she noticed some changes in her breast. After some tests were performed, the results showed that Melissa had stage 4 Inflammatory Breast cancer. Then there's Suzy who also found some changes in her breast when she tried on a t-shirt.

While each journey is unique, we all share a common theme - cancer changes our lives forever.

The Day That Changed My Life - Facing The End of Life

Whenever we hear the news of a famous person facing a terminal illness or any disease, we all extend our love and support. The gift of empathy is a wonderful quality of human beings. As we are all aware, many people are diagnosed with cancer on a daily basis. In fact, someone is hearing those words of a cancer diagnosis right now. The time to say good byes, trying not to focus on death but doing your best to enjoy each day, catching up with everyone you love just to let them know that you love them, crying, putting on a brave face, questioning God, being grateful for the good times, etc. are just a mixture of what occurs with a cancer patient. Today, I was one of those who was touched by the news that Valarie Harper was diagnosed with a terminal cancer which is reported to be in the final stage with a life expectancy of three months. The specific diagnosis is called leptomeningeal carcinomatosis which has affected her brain.

Leptomeningeal carcinomatosis sounds quite scary and however, this disorder is being diagnosed with increasing frequency as patients live longer and as neuro-imaging studies improve. The most common cancers to involve the leptomeninges are breast cancer, lung cancer, and melanomas.Early diagnosis and therapy is critical to preserving neurologic function. Radiation therapy to symptomatic sites and disease visible on neuroimaging studies and intrathecal chemotherapy increases the median survival to 3-6 months. Without treatment, the median survival of patients with this disorder is 4-6 weeks and death occurs from progressive neurologic dysfunction.

A diagnosis of a terminal stage of cancer is very difficult for someone to hear, it is equally difficult for a health care practitioner to deliver. It does not matter how many times the doctor have told a patient that there is nothing more that can be done, each one is a sober reminder that someone is dying and this will not only affect the patient but all who are connected to this person. Our thoughts and prayers are with Valerie Harper, her family and friends. We also pray for all those who are facing cancer on any level.

While each journey is unique, we all share a common theme - cancer changes our lives forever.

The Day That Changed My Life - Big Decisions and Family Conflict

No one could see this coming, you cannot prepare for it, it isn't even a thought. Twenty eight year old Grace Lee, and the daughter of the senior pastor Rev. Man Ho Lee of Antioch Missionary Church in Flushing, Queens, New York was a financial manager at Bank of America. Grace was training for the New York City Marathon when she became ill with a brain-stem tumor in October 2011.

Ms. Lee graduated from the University of North Carolina and was living on her own. However, she moved in with her parents in Douglaston, Queens, while she went through the chemotherapy and radiation treatments. Things took a turn in early September, when Grace had a seizure and was admitted to North Shore Hospital, where according to her lawyer David Smith, she agreed to have a tracheotomy and to be placed on a feeding tube.

The conflict came when it appeared that Ms. Lee wanted to be removed from the machines and was met with the opposition of her parents. We can all imagine how difficult this can be for someone to let go of their loved one - especially when they hold strong to a faith and belief that God is in charge and taking Grace off life support would be the equivalent to committing suicide (in her parents eyes). The act of suicide means one will not enter into heaven. Needless to say, that in itself is important to Grace's family who while they want to keep her here, they would have a different acceptance if she were to die without human intervention.

This journey is a difficult one for all - Grace wants to be relieved of her suffering, while her family cannot release her in that manner. As you can see in the videos, Grace is responsive. Many families face the challenge of removing a loved one from life support and it is very difficult to do so even when their loved one is unresponsive. The fight continues as the medical professionals are determined to comply with Grace's request and now it is in the hands of the court. Our thoughts and prayers are with Grace and her family during this difficult journey.

While each journey is unique, we all share a common theme - cancer changes our lives forever.

The Day That Changed My Life - Esophageal Cancer

Esophageal Cancer is a cancer of the esophagus. The esophagus is the muscular tube that moves the food from the mouth to the stomach. While the main goal is to remove the cancer through surgery, some treatments includes chemotherapy, radiation or a combination of both.

Keep in mind each journey is different and these features are not endorsements of any medical facility, physician or course of treatment. Our best effort is to give you hope as you listen to those who have faced the disease and survived:


Bart Frazzitta



Nick Koulouvaris shares his incredible journey:



Ken Papini

The Day That Changed My Life - The Real Deal

Early detection is very important - get screened. No family history? Get screened.

Check out Coralee's Journey:





In the final video, you may need to sign in to YouTube to view as Coralee shares the reality of her mastectomy.

The Day That Changed My Life - The Controversy

Here's a controversial discussion. Not everyone subscribes to the standard treatment of chemotherapy or radiation which is given to cancer patients. Suzanne Somers known as Chrissy on Three's Company, later as an author and business woman shares her perspective on what worked for her. Ms. Somers decided to take an unconventional approach in treating her cancer. An excerpt from her book Knock Out:


Chapter 1
A CANCER STORY—MINE

November 2008, 4:00 a.m. I wake up. I can’t breathe. I am choking, being
strangled to death; it feels like there are two hands around my neck
squeezing tighter and tighter. My body is covered head to toe with welts
and a horrible rash: the itching and burning is unbearable. The rash is in
my ears, in my nose, in my vagina, on the bottoms of my feet, everywhere—
under my arms, my scalp, the back of my neck. Every single inch
of my body is covered with welts except my face. I don’t know why. I
struggle to the telephone and call one of the doctors I trust. I start to tell
him what is happening, and he stops me: “You are in danger. Go to the hospital
right now.” I knew it. I could feel that my breath was running out.

No time to wait for an ambulance. We race to the emergency room. I
am gasping, begging for yet one more breath. I am suffocating. I am running
out of time. I don’t have time to think or be frightened; I can only
concentrate on getting one last breath. I am dizzy . . . the world is spinning.
Breathing is all I can think about.

We arrive. My husband has called the hospital in advance. They are
waiting for me. The emergency room workers—nurses, doctors, and other
professionals—are wonderful people. They have dealt with this before.
They are reassuring: “Okay, we’ll take care of her.”

As soon as I am in the emergency room they inject me with Decadron, a
powerful steroid. “Why can’t you breathe?” the ER doc seems to be
yelling in my ear, but I can’t answer. I am unable to get words out. They
inject me with Benadryl for the welts and the rash. Now I’m inside the
ER, but I still can’t breathe. I can’t even sit up. I am bent over trying to
find oxygen anywhere . . .

They put me on oxygen and albuterol to get me breathing, and slowly,
slowly, life returns. I am still grabbing for each breath, and there
are spasms in my lungs, like someone is turning a knob that pulls my
lungs inside out, but unlike before, the breath is there . . . labored but
there.

“We have to do a CAT scan,” he says. I already know that there are
large amounts of radiation inherent in CAT scans, and it bothers me to
think of doing that to my body. This is the first time I have had any pharmaceutical
drugs in me in eight years.

I always say, “I am not anti-pharmaceutical, but they should be saved as
the last tool in the practitioner’s back pocket.” My life was just saved by
pharmaceuticals. Maybe this is one of those times that radiation is justified
to find out what is wrong? Because something is seriously wrong. I
am healthy. I don’t know anyone who does more for her health than I do
on a daily basis. CAT scan . . . I don’t know.


I say to the doctor, “It seems to me that I’ve either been poisoned or am
having some kind of serious allergic reaction to something. I mean,
doesn’t that make sense? The rash, the strangling, the asphyxiation.
Sounds classic, doesn’t it?”

“We don’t know. A CAT scan will tell us. I really recommend you do
this,” the doctor says. “Next time you might not be so lucky—you might
not get here in time. You were almost out.”

I know that. I could feel the life going out of me in the car ride over.

“Okay,” I answer meekly. I am concerned and wary. My husband is with
me, holding my hands, rubbing them. His face is twisted with fear, concern.
Nothing is making sense.

A week ago, I was the picture of health. I hosted a beautiful evening at
my home for all the wonderful doctors who had participated in my bestseller
Breakthrough. It was a beautiful, warm evening, and together we all
celebrated health and wellness. The stars were out that night in full force,
and while the air was filled with the sounds of live musicians playing my
soft jazz favorites, the forty people at the table were enthusiastically conversing
about the possibilities of aging without illness; aging with bones,
brain, and health intact; dying healthy at a very old age. We were all
turned on. We had all realized it was attainable, and we were excited to
know that we had jumped on this incredible bandwagon in time.

This was an amazing group of people. These doctors were the courageous
ones who stepped out of the Western “standard of care” box to declare
that the present template of medicine is not working. Drugs are not
the answer. Drugs and chemicals are degrading the brains of our elders
and sneaking up on the unsuspecting young ones.