PinkRising™

In February 2015, my world stopped on a dime when I found a little pea-sized bump in my breast during a self-exam in the shower. The second my fingers felt it, I couldn’t breathe. It was as if God pushed a pause button at the exact same time I got tackled by Clay Matthews.

I knew exactly what that little bump was.

A week later I was swept up into the world of cancer treatment. I was diagnosed with stage IIIb breast cancer. Immediately after the lumpectomy surgery to remove the tumor in my right breast and armpit, fluid built up around my heart and lungs, and I gasped for air. I tried to tell them I couldn’t breathe, but I don’t think they heard me…or maybe I didn’t utter a word. I was still under the influence of anesthesia. Thankfully, my husband heard me and told them. My blood pressure plunged and the energy in the room fell into organized chaos…at least that’s what it seemed like to me.

I was told the anesthetist saved my life, and I am forever grateful for her. The doctor in charge made the decision to have me sent to a bigger hospital that had more resources available for me.

Now, I’ve been terrified of flying my whole life, but the only way to safely and quickly transport me to the hospital was in Med Flight, which is a helicopter. Being a little out of it allowed them to slide me into it and ready me for a short flight of roughly 15 minutes.

Once we got in the air, instead of freaking out, an incredibly deep peace fell over me. The vibration and soft rocking motion soothed me. The sun shined warmly on my face, and I remember slowly smiling. When someone told me the hospital was in view, I lifted my head enough to look down upon the city. Again, instead of freaking out, I remember thinking how cool it was to see everything below.

I looked death in the face that day and won.

While I was going through chemo and radiation, which also happened to be during my youngest daughter’s first pregnancy, I started an ambitious plan to help women diagnosed with breast cancer start their own businesses. PinkRising was what I called it. Pink because that’s the color associated with breast cancer, and Rising because that’s what I wanted to do: rise up and live beyond my cancer diagnosis.

I soon found out it was way too much for me to handle. I meant well, but there was no energy or brain power to follow through on my intentions. I ended it before it really got started. I was way too overwhelmed and not in a good place mentally, emotionally, or physically to take on a project that size.

My first grandchild was born the week before I was to start radiation. He was the light in my dark world. When I was with him, nothing bad or negative entered my mind. He lived two hours away so it was hard to go visit, especially going through daily radiation, but I managed to go almost once every week. I had to…he was my lifeline.

In December 2015, I had a major breakdown. It was the middle of the night and I got up to use the bathroom. Each step brought excruciating pain in my feet, thanks to a medication side effect. It felt like every bone in both my feet was about to break. It was at that point I realized I needed to do something. My oncologist changed my meds, which helped with the foot pain, and she set me up an appointment with an oncology psychiatrist.

The connection with the oncology psychiatrist was instant. I found myself sharing all my deep, dark secrets that no one else in the world knew of. After a few visits with her, I was diagnosed with:

• PTSD
• Agoraphobia (fear of leaving my house)
• Severe anxiety
• Major depression

She started me on some new medications, which left me feeling almost no emotions at all. I found myself merely existing. I just gave up on having any other lifestyle other than the one I had. I made no attempts to fix anything and made no effort to improve my relationships with my family. My grandson was the only thing that gave me hope.

Fast forward almost exactly five years later, in 2020, my daughter told me she was pregnant with her second child. Not even a month later, I found another pea-size pebble in my right armpit. Again, I knew exactly what it was. This time, though, I knew it was stage IV and that the cancer had metastasized.

Stage IV…I was going to die.

We all remember 2020 and how covid-19 kept us home and away from others. I didn’t want to see my oncologist and I didn’t want to go through another surgery, chemo, and radiation. I didn’t want to die, either.

For two weeks I lived in a dark, dark place and couldn’t see the light in anything. All I could think about was what I was going to do in the time I had left, and what I was likely going to miss out on.

The little pebble in my armpit was a bit bigger the next time I felt it. It was time to go see my oncologist. The tumor had grown quickly after just two weeks, and that scared me even more.

Stage IIIc was my new diagnosis. I can’t even describe the relief that fully engulfed my whole body. Although the return of the cancer meant it had metastasized, it was also considered a recurrence because it had returned in the same place as in 2015. Best of all, it wasn’t stage IV.

For those two weeks, though, I fully believed I was going to die much sooner than I wanted to. If I had limited time left, I wanted to make a difference, make an impact, before I died. I wasn’t going to allow fear to control my last days.

This brought PinkRising back to life.

This time, though, my intuition told me PinkRising was supposed to be for my benefit…to help me get over my fears of everything and do something important in my life. It was meant to help me first, and then help other women get over their fears so we all could live with our best interests, wants, and needs in mind.

After the very first chemo treatment for this newest diagnosis, I ended up in the emergency room with severe dehydration. This led to emergency surgery for appendicitis first, and then I got sepsis, and apparently my blood pressure dropped and I had another close call with death.

During that hospital stay, a mass was found on top of my right kidney, which, the doctor said, was most likely cancer.

PinkRising was again put on hold.

At this point, I was about as down as I could be. Never in front of others, though. No one knew the rage and pain I felt gripping my soul. A smile was usually on my face and positivity is what I preached.

What really helped during my darkest times was my grandkids, and watching Joe, Murr, Sal, and Q from Impractical Jokers. Those guys have no idea just how much they affected my life at that time. Laughter truly is one of the best medicines.

Now, you might think I’d been through enough at that point, but nope. I ended up getting covid. So, I was fighting breast cancer, kidney cancer, and covid all at the same time. Oh, and I had type 2 diabetes that was super hard for me to get control of. For one week I felt like I was going to die, but I somehow managed to make it through, again.

I survived another brush with death. I recall thinking that I’m on this earth for a specific reason, I just didn’t know what that reason was yet. After all those brushes with death, I was still alive.

The surgery for the kidney cancer ended with them removing around one-third of my right kidney. I will add there is absolutely nothing more painful than the first few days or so after that surgery. It hurt much worse than delivering either of my daughters. It hurt to breathe or move even a centimeter. I’ve never experienced that level of physical pain in my life.

The day after that surgery, I was still in the hospital, and got a phone call from my best friend’s husband, who was also my friend. I was curious as to why he was calling me. Then he said the words I never expected to hear. My best friend had died the day before. My heart fell to my feet, along with all the blood in my body. The pain I was in from the surgery didn’t even register as I listened to him tell me what happened. When the call ended, I fell to my knees next to my hospital bed and silently cried out in extreme pain and anguish.

That was it. I knew what I was supposed to do moving forward. You see, my best friend used to always tell me I was meant for something bigger and better than what I was living. She believed in me so much more than I ever believed in myself.

I dove head first into creating the PinkRising program I wanted and needed, which is the same program you’ll find in my book, PinkRising: Health & Wellbeing Success Program for Women. You’ll find it’s more than just a book, it’s a way of living. I refer to my copy often to continuously improve my own PinkRising Lifestyle.

Fast forward to 2023…the result to my routine scan showed the cancer had metastasized to my lungs, which meant I was now stage IV. My phone dropped from my hands and my jaw dropped open in disbelief. My gut twisted into knots and sounds I’ve never made before escaped my throat as rivers of tears ran down my now flushed face.

I’m not quite ready to share more about my stage IV experience, but someday soon I will.

So, welcome to PinkRising!

Join the group…Read the books…Transform your life!

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