Outrunning Cancer

By Denise Spriggs Neish

Denise's running shoes never got dusty. After her diagnosis, she kept racing - winning medals in everything from 5Ks to marathons - while cherishing every moment with family and friends, and inspiring everyone along the way. "We vow to run our best, to splash in the stream, to raise our hands in the air and run recklessly down the hills, to lift those we see who have fallen on the path, to tickle our little runners, to teach them all we know, and to hold hands all the way home."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Oct 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781646700691

Book preview

Prologue

The past cannot be changed, the future is yet in your power.

—Unknown

You have a gift. You may not think of it often, but it is more precious than any other gift. You have your agency. You choose. Every single day, you choose.

God hath not given us the Spirit of Fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind (2 Timothy 1). With that, we have been given all the tools we need to overcome life’s obstacles. Fear can be a monster, but it is no match for faith.

In my writing, I will share some personal experiences from my battle with cancer and the ways in which I witnessed God walking with me every step of the way. He was with me, and he can be with you too. Whether or not I am cured, it is evident that I am not alone. I know now, more than ever before, that our heavenly Father loves us, his children. Throughout this book, I will occasionally share some of my beliefs. You may not believe as I do, but perhaps, at least, some of the concepts will ring true to you. I tried writing without involving any religious perspective but couldn’t do that while being open and true to my own experiences. I am a religious person and that is the lens through which I view life. However, my purpose was not to write a religious book.

At first, my purpose in writing was to give hope to those who are fighting a seemingly impossible battle. Specifically this is dedicated to those diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer. There are some select survivors, and there is always hope.

Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. There are also women who live well for many years before the disease takes them. When I was diagnosed, there was nothing I wanted to read about more than someone who had survived against the odds because I needed to know it was possible. If you or a loved one is battling cancer, of any type, this book is dedicated to you with all of my love, sincerity, and best wishes. Believe it or not, there can be real power in living with cancer.

The more I wrote, though, I realized that I was writing this book for my family and friends. I have terminal cancer. I want to say what I really want to say. Honesty is my objective.

Branden, my husband, is truly my best friend. That’s not the case in every marriage but it is in ours. He has been by my side through all of this yet still has his own perspective and challenges to face. Our four amazing children, Alec, Lily, Max, and Macy, have grown up with a mom battling cancer from the time they were young. I would like them to understand what happened and to know how much I love them and fight every day to live for them. It’s my responsibility and privilege to raise them, and I intend to do it. I also want them to really know who I am. I’m not a perfect mom, by any means, but maybe they can learn from some of my experiences.

Chapter 1

The Call

April 27, 2011

When the call finally came, my nerves were so stretched I didn’t even have the energy to hurry the doctor along. Whatever he was going to tell me had waited a few days already; it could wait for a few more moments hem-hawing around. I had thought through the possible outcomes so many times and knew there could be only one possible result. I had to have at least a fighting chance.

The sinking feeling inside me grew all week. I worked to remain positive and on task, but no amount of mental effort could change the cold hard facts—and that’s what I didn’t have. I needed the facts so I could figure out my next move. How things had unraveled so quickly in just three weeks since I was first diagnosed with breast cancer, was mind-blowing. On the plus side, I had lost a few pounds of baby weight I was still carrying around without any effort at all.

Yes, I could battle breast cancer and do chemotherapy at age thirty-seven with four young kids. Yes, I had a supportive, amazing man by my side who would do anything to see me through it. I had friends, a strong understanding of myself and my beliefs, and I could push through pain or fatigue. Years of running at a competitive level had taught me that. I would be tough, I would be positive, and we would make it as a family through this challenge. That, I was up for. I had accepted the grim news that the cancer was worse than we originally realized, but there was no room for any more bad news. If it had spread any more, I was in real trouble. No more room. Not even an inch.

If I’m honest, I knew before he spoke. I knew before he even called. His mannerism over the phone only confirmed it. I think that’s why I began to physically shake when he sounded so calm but was obviously stalling. Why did you wait until 7:30 at night, on your way home from work, to call me? I wanted to ask. Why did you make me wait all day!

Is your husband home? he asked casually.

No, I answered, watching our redheaded neighbor boy ride his bike down the street as I stood in our San Diego driveway. He’s on a plane home right now.

Oh. I really wish he was there. I really wish I could speak with both of you at the same time.

I didn’t answer but watched with curiosity as my arms began trembling. It was a warm spring evening, and I was beginning to be glad I had gone outside. My kids were little, but I knew I needed to be away from them when we spoke. I marveled that after all this waiting for the doctor to call, I now had nothing to say.

He took a breath and forged ahead. The PET scan showed that the cancer has spread to your bones. He had rehearsed this. There are at least two spots on your spine and one on your pelvis.

All my thoughts competed in an instant. What was he saying? Wait—he’s wrong! And what is that kid doing across the street? Why is he carrying a stick while riding his bike? Maybe I was wrong when I read that metastatic breast cancer was incurable. But I’m pretty sure that’s what I read. Was I wrong? Was I supposed to be crying? ’Cause I wasn’t. I couldn’t do this to Branden, to our kids. A wave of panic rushed through me, and I quickly exhaled.

Does that mean that I’m in stage 4? Maybe he was going to tell me that stage 4 meant something different than what I thought.

Yes, and stage 4 breast cancer is considered to be…incurable. Oh, that’s what I thought.

And just like that, he put a word into my head that he could never take back. It took me years to come to terms with that word. Years he told me I would not have.

Chapter 2

Purpose

To be what we are, and to become what we are capable of becoming, is the only end of life.

—Robert Louis Stevenson

It’s no accident—when and where we are born. God told Jeremiah, Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee. We are all known to God.

I entered this world in the summer of 1973 in Missouri, of all places. The third girl, I must have been a bit of a disappointment to a father who was longing for a son. My little brother, Will, fulfilled my dad’s wishes and completed our family three years later. Rural Missouri was the perfect place for a somewhat shy and sensitive girl, like me, to flourish. There was time and space in my day to be reflective and alone with my thoughts, yet I was adventurous and loved exploring the woods and rocky skirtings of the lake.

When I was three years old, something pivotal happened in our family. My parents began looking for a church that our family could attend together. Mom was raised Presbyterian, and Daddy was raised Catholic. They wanted to establish a weekly tradition of taking their children to church, but it needed to be one they could agree upon. After studying a few different religions and being introduced to the faith of my dad’s coworker, my parents joined the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day-Saints. We became Mormons which was not too popular in a state with a notorious history of intolerance but being raised in this faith has shaped me more than anything else my parents ever taught me.

As a small child, I remember asking for a picture of Jesus in my room so I wouldn’t be afraid of the dark. My natural inclination toward faith caused me to contemplate my own beliefs as I grew older. I couldn’t tolerate the idea of following something I didn’t genuinely accept inside. Over time, my relationship with God was strengthened by the doctrines of my religion, and many questions were answered for me when I searched diligently in the Scriptures or when I prayed for guidance. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m happy to be a believing Mormon.

One of my favorite scripture verses (which is unique to my religion) is a passage where God is speaking to Moses, explaining his purpose. He said, Behold this is my work and my glory—to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man (Moses 1:39, Pearl of Great Price).

I was always taught that immortality meant living forever but that eternal life meant more. It meant living forever with God and our families in a beautiful and loving existence. This will involve continual learning and growth. If you think of God’s main purpose, as stated in that verse, it seems that our long-term happiness is what matters most to him. That is something to which any mortal parent can relate. This concept of eternal progression has shaped the way I have viewed all the ups and downs in my life. So although I don’t understand why certain things happen, I believe that the wisdom we gain, with the end goal of us returning to his presence, is what matters the most to our Father in heaven.

Evidently allowing cancer cells to grow inside my body did not conflict at all with God’s main purpose of helping me to have eternal life. He allowed my body to run its natural course, then he did what any loving father would do—he didn’t remove the challenge which he knew would provide an opportunity for immense growth, but he prepared me to deal with what he already knew was coming.

I didn’t have a crisis of my faith when I was told I was terminal. I was overwhelmed, scared, and sad, but I already knew from life’s experiences that God was real and that he would be there for me if I let him. I knew I would need to trust him even though it absolutely felt unacceptable to me.

Chapter 3

So Much More

Set your course by the stars, not by the lights of every passing ship.

—Omar N. Bradley

January 2010

Have fun, buddy! I called enthusiastically. He looked so tall in his little basketball uniform. It didn’t matter that he didn’t have an aggressive bone in his body.

Dad will pull up right here in front when you are done. Make sure you’re looking for him.

I will! Seven-year-old Alec reassured me, bounding toward the building.

I sighed as I pulled away from the rec center, a couple of miles from our house, on a starlit night in San Diego. You couldn’t even tell it was winter. The air was warm and moist, and the sky was clear. I felt a peace that I hadn’t experienced for a while. Alone at last. Well, not completely alone. Newborn Macy lay motionless in her car seat in the back. She let out a soft little breath as she stretched one chubby arm over her head with her eyes still closed. Quiet.

I drove slowly down the road toward the intersection. I thought of the twins, not even two yet, at home with Branden. Thankfully he was home from work before they went to bed, so I didn’t have to load them in the car too.

I still couldn’t believe we had been surprised with Macy so shortly after the twins. It had taken us a few years to have Alec, and the twins were the result of a successful in vitro. Max and Lily were born in Boston the day before Branden’s last final at Harvard Business School. About a year later, while celebrating the twins’ first birthday, I caught myself saying, for the third or fourth time that day, I’m sooo hungry! I discovered a week later that I was pregnant with Macy.

Still recovering from the C-section and tired from the lack of sleep that comes with a new baby, I found myself smiling at my moment alone in the car. It was so rare for me to have a quiet minute to even hear myself think. Still I was happy.

I had been feeling a lot of stress as I tried to manage all the kids, mostly by myself, with a husband who was working more hours than either of us had anticipated. Branden was great about trying to make up for it when he was home. He almost always got the baby when she woke up at night, changed her diaper, and brought her in to me to feed; but both of us were feeling overworked.

At that moment, I was just full of gratitude. I realized how lucky I was to have a husband who loved me. I was grateful that he had a good job that paid enough for me to be home as a full-time mom to our little ones. That’s where I wanted to be. I was grateful to have Alec and our three babies when I had often wondered if we would be able to have any children at all. I was grateful to live in beautiful San Diego where I could walk Alec to school almost every single day, pushing the triple stroller because the weather rarely spoiled our plans. I was happy that he was growing into such a good kid.

My thoughts turned again to Branden, and I offered up a silent prayer, thanking God for him. I sat at the intersection, looking up at the stars and musing on my blessed life. The sky was especially dark that night, making the stars visible, layer upon milky layer. The stars I could see were innumerable, and I knew there were many more beyond that.

In the stillness, an exact sentence came, almost as a voice, into my mind, There is so much more… It startled me. It was not my own thought.

As I looked at the stars, a warm understanding enveloped me, and peace and joy filled my heart. The happiness that I knew in this life was nothing compared to the joy that a loving heavenly Father had prepared for me in the eternities. I felt a touch of that joy enlightening my soul on that peaceful night.

This experience happened a little over a year before I received my devastating diagnosis, but I reflected on it many times and felt that it was a tender mercy from the Lord, preparing me for what was to come.

Chapter 4

Lump: Four Weeks Before the Call

March 2011

Our beautiful new home, nestled near the base of Mount Timpanogos in Utah, was empty, awaiting our arrival, but we couldn’t move in until the closing in another month.

My appointment at the breast clinic in San Diego was scheduled for Wednesday, the day before Branden was to clean out his desk at work. We would miss San Diego’s pleasant weather and some friends, but we had no real connections there. Our three years in San Diego was our insanely crazy period with long work hours and three kids in diapers at once. It was time to stop renting and move into our own place, and Utah’s cost of living made that possible for us.

When the start-up company Branden worked for in San Diego started showing signs of going under, he began staying up late, searching for jobs in Utah. But this move was not about career. It was all about our kids. Branden loved his experience growing up in Utah. His family was all still there, and some of my family lived in Utah now too. We wanted grandparents and cousins for our kids and following our Mormon faith would also be easier for our children in Utah. It was the obvious place for our family to finally settle down.

After Branden’s job offer in Utah was official, we enthusiastically spent our evenings researching the best school districts for great neighborhoods and houses. Finally we found what we were looking for.

View Pointe neighborhood in Highland, Utah, is hidden on a bluff right above the mouth of breathtaking American Fork Canyon. It’s a kid’s paradise with a basketball court in the center and a little park almost always occupied with neighborhood children. The houses were newer, and there was only one road in and out of the neighborhood.

Ours was one of the few houses with only a two-car garage (much to Branden’s dismay), but the huge deck overlooking the backyard, and open space in the middle, made up for it. The rich distressed wood floors gave a warm country feel. Stunning rugged mountains dominated our view from both the front and back windows. It was a foreclosure that sort of fell into our hands at a great price, but the charm of the neighborhood was what really sold us.

As we planned for our move, I had a long list of things to do before we left San Diego. On my checklist was my appointment at the breast clinic.

I had a lump on the outer edge of my right breast that I had noticed about two years previously; but for the past three years, I was pregnant or nursing and lumps are normal in either situation. I knew a few women who had worried themselves sick about finding a breast lump, but they all turned out to be fine. Still to be cautious, I spoke with my ob-gyn about it while I was pregnant with Macy. She assured me that I didn’t need to worry about getting it checked until I was not only done with my pregnancy but after I was completely done breastfeeding. Besides I was energetically taking care of four kids, watching what I ate, and running every morning. I was as healthy as they come. Getting the lump checked was only a formality.

Branden needed to start his new job right away, but we couldn’t move into our home in Utah for another month. The kids and I decided it would be fun to go with Branden to Utah for his first week of work. We would stay with his parents. After one week, I planned to drive back to San Diego with the kids. Branden would stay in Utah, work for three more weeks, and then return to San Diego to help move our family. We had so much to do, but we were giddy with excitement about our new adventure. I just needed to get that darn lump looked at before we took off.

Chapter 5

Growing Up

As a kid, I was quiet and reserved at school but animated at home. I was skinny with fair freckly skin, long light-brown hair, and big blue eyes. I think some of my shyness at school