Running the Race with Gratitude, Perseverance, Hope, and Faith – Sprint II

Before we dive into Sprint II, I want to share the story behind the cake in my last post. Eighteen years ago, Patti Conforti—one of the extraordinary women I mentioned—made a beautiful (and delicious!) monkey-and-princess cake for my children’s 1st and 3rd birthdays.

Psalm 145:18 reminds us: “The LORD is near to all who call upon him, to all who call upon him in truth” In the busyness of life, it’s so easy to forget that nearness. Most days, I start with prayer and close the evening with a family rosary. These habits passed down from my grandparents, who built their lives on faith. My hope is that my children will carry this tradition forward, keeping faith at the heart of their own journeys.

I am sharing another childhood photo—one where I look a little confused, as if wondering what the world would one day offer me. Little did I know the path ahead would include moments that test, stretch, and ultimately strengthen me.

In this part of the race, I asked the women from my previous post a difficult question—one we all confronted the moment we heard our diagnoses:

“How did you first learn about your diagnosis, and what emotions did you feel?”

Their answers—and mine—are woven into this sprint.

Patti:
In reaching the final diagnosis I went through a succession of interim diagnoses.  The biggest thing I learned is that the first time you hear the words you have cancer, it may not be the full scope of that diagnosis.  I first was told that I had cancer in my breast and lymph nodes on one side only.  I met with a breast surgeon who wrote out a detailed plan and referred me to oncology.  However, before they could proceed, other tests were ordered and as cancer was found elsewhere the original plan became obsolete – it went from here is the plan to rid the cancer to we cannot get rid of it, and must manage it.  Each phase brought larger emotions.  When the first few meetings occurred and they thought they knew the situation, I went from scared and confused to I can beat this and move on and relieved.  Then the next round comes and changes the scope and I was mad, frustrated, scared and helpless. 

Jennifer:
After a routine mammogram Radiology notified my gyno about me needing additional images instead of my primary doctor. It was two weeks before I was called by the gyno office that I needed to go back. I hoped it was like a previous time when radiology needed one more picture and all was well…. This time it led to needing a biopsy and there were two tumors. I would say I was numb. I try not to allow myself to worry until I have something to actually worry about. It was hard. The biopsy came next then surgery was scheduled and the fact that I had two tumors in the same breast with two different cancers. This was also during covid.

Devika:
On March 6, 2025, I went in for my routine mammogram. In the past, I always requested a 3D mammogram because I have dense breast tissue. For some reason, it didn’t cross my mind to mention it that day. Since I schedule my screening every year, I assumed it was already noted in my records. About a week later, I received a letter in the mail saying I needed to come back for a diagnostic mammogram. I wasn’t alarmed—I honestly thought it was just because the 3D imaging hadn’t been done. So, I scheduled the next available appointment, which happened to fall on my birthday, March 28th.

I wasn’t mentally prepared for what that day would bring. The diagnostic mammogram was a long and painful process. As I sat in the small waiting area afterward, waiting to be called for an ultrasound, I started to worry. When the doctor came in, she told me they had found a small mass and that I would need a biopsy.  I know of several woman that have had this and their test come back benign. My biopsy scheduled for April 1st. Everything happened so quickly. During the biopsy, I nervously asked the doctor if she thought I should be worried. She looked at me and said, “You have cancer. They didn’t tell you at your last appointment?” The nurse immediately asked if I wanted her to get my husband. When he came into the room, I broke down in tears. It felt like an out-of-body experience—shock, disbelief, fear, and confusion all at once. No one can ever prepare you for those words: “You have cancer.”

My Story:
My race began in January 2024, but I didn’t get a final diagnosis until August 2025—almost two years of scans, failed biopsies, and waiting. The mass was deep under my rib, difficult to reach, and consistently labeled “likely benign.” Each six-month follow-up brought the same uncertainty.

In 2025 they attempted another biopsy, but again it couldn’t be done safely. When I returned in August, they insisted on trying once more. I was frustrated, but agreed, requesting a different doctor. This time it worked.

The next day my phone rang, and I knew. Doctors rarely call with good news. I was in the car with my son when I heard the words: “You have breast cancer.” We drove to the grocery store in silence, pretending everything was normal while my mind tried to catch up.

I usually hide sadness well, but that night, I cried and asked God, “Why me? Haven’t I suffered enough?” The emotions were overwhelming. Yet in the middle of it all, there was grace—my cancer was stage 0, even after nearly two years of being undetected. I can only thank God for that mercy.

Thank you for running Sprint II with me.
Sprint III is coming soon, where I’ll share the next question on this sprint—and introduce you to the incredible women who are pictured here with me.