Womans breast cancer dream team challenged by pandemic – The Pioneer

SAVANNAH, Ga. (AP) They call themselves the dream team, though this last 12 months or so have been a nightmare in some ways.

First, Symenthia Shuman Allen, 53, found a lump in her left breast in early October 2019. It scared this mother of four because her own mom had died of breast cancer when Allen was just 19.

She spent about a week wishing the lump away, and then while accompanying her husband to his next doctor visit, Allen mentioned it to their primary care physician assistant. Mallory Williams examined Allen immediately and didnt like what she found.

A mammogram and biopsy confirmed there was a problem.

Her two adult children, her husband, her pastor and his wife plus a few close friends dream team plus reserves sat around the doctors table with her when she received her diagnosis: triple negative breast cancer.

This type of breast cancer, which accounts for about 10% to 15% of all breast cancers, tends to be more common in women younger than age 40, who are African-American, or who have a BRCA1 genetic mutation, the American Cancer Society reports. Triple-negative refers to the fact that these cancer cells dont have receptors to the hormones estrogen or progesterone and also dont make too much of the protein called HER2. That limits the treatment options.

Triple negative breast cancer grows and spreads faster than other types of invasive breast cancer and typically has a worse prognosis, the American Cancer Society reports.

It was shocking, said Allen, who cried at the news. It was very emotional for me because my mom died of breast cancer at the age of 40. I just knew that it was a death sentence for me because of the chemo that was back in 88 it was 88 when she got diagnosed with it, she passed away in 89 the chemo and radiation back then was just horrible. And she just, she went through a terrible ordeal. She went blind before she passed because it spread to her brain.

Son James Shuman, 26, took notes at the meeting. Daughter Tawanna Shuman, 34, sat by one side. Husband Ronnie Allen sat on the other.

Her two younger daughters, Keiryiah, 16, and Mirclea, 20, both were born with cerebral palsy and are medically fragile. Allen adopted them when they were infants.

Allens family and friends would stay at her side until COVID restrictions meant they couldnt.

CHEMO, ALONE

Allen started her chemotherapy treatment two days after Christmas at the Nancy N. and J.C. Lewis Cancer & Research Pavilion. She was scheduled for every Friday.

Her chemotherapy began with a drug nicknamed the Red Devil for its color and harsh side effects on the heart. A nurse injected it from two long syringes into a surgical port in Allens chest. Even before COVID, only one visitor at a time is allowed with the patients receiving chemo. Allen drew strength from their nearness.

So either myself and my brothers would kind of swap between lunch breaks, and go there just to try to talk and get her mind off things, Tawanna Shuman said.

When they werent there it was her husband Ronnie, whos retired, or her pastor Bishop Thomas Sills of Connors Temple Baptist Church and his wife the First Lady Darlene Sills.

In January, Allen started losing her hair. It was expected, but still devastating.

Tawanna Shuman learned about it by phone just after she dropped her son at school and she was driving to work at Medbank where shes a case specialist.

(My mom) said, My hairs falling out. And it was a long pause. At this point, I didnt know what to say, Shuman recalled. And I called my brother immediately. I said, Hey, listen, we need to try to keep her with these caps. She loved these cancer caps.

The fancier, or more decadent, as her daughter describes them, the better.

The chemo, while advanced far beyond what her own mother had endured, still blackened Allens fingernails and toenails. It peeled and lightened her skin.

Chemotherapy strips you of everything, Shuman said.

Except in-person support. COVID-19 did that. The pandemic shut down visits at hospitals including with cancer patients receiving chemo beginning the week of St. Patricks Day.

When the pandemic went down, you had to go in their by yourself, Allen said.

Allens medical oncologist, Dr. Mark Taylor, said he insists that patients bring a friend or family member to at least their first chemo treatment.

I want some support there for you, and that got ripped away, he said.

Instead of being with Allen, her support team took turns calling her, Facetiming with her, texting her. Grandson Frankie Kennedy, 9, had a special flare for it. A dancer with a big dimpled smile, hed cheer his grandmother with texted videos saying Nana, have a good night, I love you and ending with his catch phrase You got this!

When Allen couldnt have her family and friends at her side, she relied on a prayer blanket to feel their presence. Black and white, with fuzzy pile on one side, its emblazoned with the Victorias Secret logo, a tiny irony that cracked up Bishop Thomas Sills when he recalled it Monday.

She brought us the blanket and me and my wife, we just prayed, he said. And we asked the Lord, you know, when she wrapped herself in it, to let her experience his healing and let her experience some comfort and giving her really great ease as she went through the process, and I knew that sometimes its so hard. And, and she held on to it, you know, she held on to it.

At the traditional bell ringing ceremony to signify the end of chemo, Allens family and friends got creative. They couldnt go inside the J.C. Lewis Cancer Pavilion, so about 75 people gathered in the parking lot to cheer her on and share a celebratory boxed meal, wrapped in pink paper.

SURGERY AND RADIATION ALONE

But that was far from the end of treatment. In June, she had surgery. She had to go in alone.

In her mind, Allen repeated the Bible verse Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadows of death, but I will fear no evil because God I know that you are with me.

And I would just ponder that and keep that in my heart, she said. Because I was so scared and it was nobody with me. But only God.

By 3 p.m. that day she was discharged. Her family was waiting in the parking lot.

In late July she started radiation. Again, no visitors for the Monday through Friday appointments that lasted until Sept. 8.

Many mornings I just didnt even want to walk through the door, Allen said. You just prayed.

Waiting in the parking lot, her husband Ronnie would sometimes pray with another pastor and friend, Rodney Cutter.

And when I come out of here, its like my head is spinning sometimes and Im walking sideways because you know that stuff is powerful, Allen said. Theres some powerful stuff coming out that machine.

Now, treatments over. Shes cancer free. She celebrated over the weekend with a little trip. A pandemic-safe one.

Dr. Taylor say dont be scared, be safe, Allen said. So my husband has taken me to the J.W. Marriott downtown.

Bishop Sills and his wife, as well as friends Patricia and Kenny Smalls, accompanied them. Allen made fancy baskets of snacks for each room. Again, they were pandemic-safe with Clorox wipes in each one.

Thats a good sign, said Tawanna Shuman, the head cheerleader for the dream team.

Now looking at this, this butterfly thats sitting here now that blossomed, she said. You know, I can tell that shes getting her strength back slowly but surely. Shes coming back to the zone.

Sharing the story is a way to help others, the family said.

We just hope that her story would impact other women to go get checked, Tawanna Shuman said. Do it early. Dont wait, dont be afraid. You know, if you have a sister, an aunt, a prayer partner, anyone, just make sure that youre talking with your friend and encouraging them to go to the doctor to be checked.

See the original post here:
Womans breast cancer dream team challenged by pandemic - The Pioneer