REBECA WALLACE
Survivor Since:
October 2005
Home Town:
Lynn County
Age: 53
Occupation:
Director, Risk Management for Lubbock Regional MHMR Center
Family: Husband Bill of 22 years; 17-year-old daughter Mikaela; and 35-year-old step-daughter Olivia Perry,  her husband, Mike and their 12-year-old son, Dallas.
Hobbies: Gardening, reading, participating in the Race for the Cure, Rebecaís Rebel Warriors

"Today I am Blessed, Tenacious, a Warrior!"

"That day I learned the importance of hope"

October 31, 2005 was one of the scariest, darkest nights of my life.  It had nothing to do with Halloween.  It had everything to do with receiving the diagnosis of stage four breast cancer.  I was in utter disbelief.  I remember thinking this could not be happening to me.   I had been confident that the lump in my left breast was nothing more than what I had been told in the past - a mere symptom of fibrocystic breasts, nothing to worry about.  After all, just six months prior I had completed my annual physical, lab work, mammogram as I had every year before.  The doctor had said I was so healthy I was boring, to go home.  There was no history of breast cancer in my family.  Unfortunately, the diagnosis was just the beginning of many dark days.  I had a very aggressive form of breast cancer.

Every day that followed seemed to bring additional bad news and a prognosis that I probably had less than two years to live.   The idea that I would not see our beautiful daughter graduate from high school, go to college, get married and have children of her own was incomprehensible.  The dreams that my husband and I had for our little farm would not come to fruition.  I could not imagine myself dead at such a young age.  After all, I come from families that live long fruitful lives.  I had expected the same for myself.   I was a few days shy of my 50th birthday.  

My husband and I were devastated and we were now left with the challenge of breaking the news to our daughter, family and friends.  My boss asked if I wanted the information to remain confidential and I responded by asking that the information be shared with my co-workers along with a desire for my family and me be lifted in prayer.

People, doctors were telling me I was very sick but I did not feel sick, not any of the expected symptoms.  Nonetheless, the scans, the lab work, everything, proved otherwise. As I was trying to stay afloat in the sea of darkness,  my husband collected all my scans, tests and reports and unbeknownst to me begged for  an appointment with another surgeon for a second opinion.  It was this doctor that gave us the first glimmer of hope.  I remember my family embracing one another in tears as she told me that I could manage cancer as many others manage other conditions and that the numbers and statistics were just that, numbers and statistics that did not take me and Godís plan for me into account.  She was not prepared to give me an expiration date.  That day I learned the importance of hope.

 The following days were spent making plans for chemotherapy, a double mastectomy and eventually reconstructive surgery.  My husband, my daughter, my in-laws, my brothers and sisters converged, as did my friends at work.   Their love and devotion sustained me.  Initially my days seemed to be filled with fear, tears and darkness.  I made every effort to spend my time with things that were positive and with laughter.  I remember watching episode after episode of Americaís Funnies Videos.    I had friends bring food, send cards, flowers, offer to help with farm animals, yard work, wig shopping and yes, I even had a brave friend help me by being willing to shave my head before I lost it to chemotherapy. 

Several things turned the darkness of my life into light.  The transformation began with the trip my husband and I made to visit with Father Jim at St. Elizabethís.  We prayed and made plans for the probable and we did the same with an attorney.  Then I started learning that literally there were prayer groups all across the globe asking for my healing.   People that I didnít even know were calling and sending cards and informing me of their prayers for me. 

Two other things proved to be more significant in my battle with the cancer that now seemed to preoccupy my life.  One evening I concluded a heartfelt discussion with my daughter with a comment about my insecurity of surviving the battle with cancer.  As I walked away, my daughter grabbed me by the shoulders, shook me rather aggressively as she poked her finger repeatedly in my face all the while she proceeded to reprimand me and command me to never again to speak in a negative manner as neither I nor any else knew what power God could have in my life and that I needed to believe in surviving.  Wow!  Talk about a humbling experience, but then she is an amazing young woman. 

The second life alternating moment was one that could described as an "a ha" moment.  I remember sitting at home alone one afternoon, feeling sad and struggling to climb out of the darkness I now seemed to become more intimate with, when I thought to myself, boy the devil sure has had to go to serious extremes to bring me to this very dark place.  Oh my goodness, what a revelation.  I now could put a name to the battle I was facing.  I was determined that the devil would indeed have a battle on his hands and I would be the victor!  I could be tenacious too.

Ephesians 6:10 would become my favorite scripture.  I now knew how to prepare for the battle to overcome cancer.  Friends helped me become more actively involved in my care.  They screened and forwarded meaningful research and treatment options. Others taught me to speak in meaningful, positive ways.  I began to surround myself with positive things to replace the dark and negative things.  I began to do things that improved my health such as, sitting in the sunshine when I was able and taking vitamin supplements, reading and gardening.  When the fear would try to sneak into my thoughts, I would read aloud positive words for my mind and heart to hear.  I also began telling my oncologist that having cancer was not part of my plan, surviving was.

In the early parts of 2006, following a rather aggressive round of chemotherapy, I was sent to a specialist in Dallas to prepare to remove tumors in my liver.  But, I was soon sent home.  There was nothing in the liver to do surgery on!

In April 2006 I was considered cancer free, though doctors have never used the other C word-cured.  In October it will be three years since my original diagnosis.    Yes, I continue to be on a maintenance dosage of chemotherapy.  There have been a few remaining reminders of the battle.  But today I am here, happy to be alive, with my husband and daughter, family and friends.  I continue to do my job in the hopes I am making a difference.

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