At the end of May, I spoke at the Relay for Life Survivor Dinner for the Woodbridge Relay. I was very nervous and wasn't sure I could do it. I had not been very successful with previous attempts at public speaking despite being a high school teacher. However, I am a different person now and have spend most of my 40s working on building my confidence and being an optimistic person. It is so much better than the life of negative I was in before now. 

The night of the dinner I was actually excited to speak. There were 300 people at the dinner and I was ready. Telling the story about Nemo is very close to my heart and brings out a LOT of emotions. However, I was able to keep myself from crying too much!! 

I have gotten a lot of compliments on the speech and I was encouraged to share it since my friends and family were not there to hear me. So, with a little editing, here it is:

Welcome survivors-a resilient bunch of people who show that we can live after cancer! Welcome caregivers-and thank you for helping us get through this each day! Thank you Renee for all of your hard work!

Rene thought I’d be able to do this speech since I’m a high school history teacher and am used to speaking in front of people. So in order for this to work, I am picturing all of you as high school students!

This is my third year doing relay. I never in a million years though I’d walk as a survivor at relay. To be honest, before cancer I didn’t know much about relay. Now here I am talking to you at the dinner to honor our survival, a dinner I never wanted to meet the qualifications to be invited to but, because of melanoma, here I am!!! I am a survivor!

I just celebrated my third year with no evidence of disease after being diagnosed with stage 3C melanoma in 2012. Melanoma is a lot more than just skin cancer. I found out the hard way that it also invades your body as well.

My survivor story is one of worlds colliding and dumb luck along with right place, right time and the aligning of some planets I think. My story starts in an unlikely place-it starts with my love of dogs.

7 years ago we adopted a dog from a local rescue group. We kept bringing Carly back to visit and were soon asked if we would foster dogs for the group. We’ve had 37 foster dogs over the last 6 years.

In the spring of 2011, I spotted Nemo and his sister Dory cowering in their shelter photo. They were in Martinsville Virginia at a shelter we take dogs from to have a better chance of being adopted and to help make room for them to save other dogs. They were the most frightened dogs I had ever seen and their short video of them shaking cemented my commitment to get them to NJ. Nemo was, by a well-timed miracle donation, being treated for heartworm which will kill a dog if left untreated. Very few shelters will treat a HW dog and few rescues will take them because treatment has a comma in the price tag.

100 days later, Nemo and Dory were transported by a network of volunteer drivers to NJ. There is a whole doggie underground railroad on the weekends moving dogs and cats all over the country. Dave and I drove part of the trip to get Nemo and Dory. We saved him and little did we know, he would save me.

We had two basket cases called dogs. They knew nothing about living with people and needed a LOT of love, training and time to learn how to cut loose and be dogs. We have no idea what happened to them in Virginia but my vet is certain they were abused and neglected.  Nemo’s sister was finally ready for adoption but he was always so fearful at adoption days and was still a work in progress all summer and into the fall. He was still with us months later and we didn’t quite know who would adopt him. Little did we know, Nemo was already home. That Fall he became obsessed with a mole on my back. It had been there forever and had never changed. He would start off sniffing it and as time went on, he started digging his nose into the mole and eventually Dave would have to pull him off because Nemo tried to remove the mole himself.

February of 2012 I noticed the mole had changed and took Nemo’s behavior toward the mole more seriously. I called a dermatologist after reading that dogs can detect cancer. I just picked a random local doctor off my approved insurance list (which, in hindsight, I don’t recommend doing!) and called. The woman said the last caller had just cancelled his appointment for Monday; I need to take that appointment and not wait. I go in Monday morning and see the Chief Resident. She calls in the lead doctor. Melanoma they say. Before I leave they schedule me for removal that afternoon and also want me to participate in a clinical trial for a confocal machine that takes microscopic images of the layers of the mole. The dermatologist is one of three in the country who reads these reports and this machine is one of 70.

I go home for lunch, come back and I am called into a room full of doctors and residents.  They explain that this is serious; results from the confocal show a big problem. The mole is not coming off today. I need to see a surgeon and they have scheduled the appointment for Monday. Everyone took photos of the mole. The Chief Resident threatens to hunt me down if I don’t show for the surgeon appointment. I get the idea this is more than just cut off the mole.

So I meet with one of the top surgeons for this type of surgery. He’s fantastic and he and his nurse explain everything. I then enter the world of tests-I’ve never had any of these before besides an xray. I knew nothing about lymphosyntography, CAT scans, PET scans or MRIs. I’m now flying by the seat of my pants getting a crash course in Melanoma as I go through March’s tests and early April is when I have my first surgery ever (besides wisdom teeth). Over a hundred stitches later, the mole is gone from my back along with a few lymph nodes from each armpit. I have an 8-9 inch scar on my back. I’m told by medical professionals it is one of the best scars they’ve seen. Works for me.

Then more surgery the next month to remove the remainder of the lymph nodes under my right arm. A drain. Arm exercises that hurt like crazy. 3 ports in 2 years because they quit on me. More surgery for a suspicious lymph node after a mammogram.

My primary care doctor tells me to walk and not let fear anger or sadness dwell in my house. Get outside and walk he tells me. So I do. Rain, drain, humidity, the day after each surgery, I’m walking and healing and I’m a survivor.

After each surgery or procedure, Nemo was by my side protecting me day after day while I was on the couch or in bed. He was, according to Dave, restless and anxious whenever I was in the hospital. Once the stitches were dissolved from the mole removal he sniffed my entire back, put his head on my leg, snuggled in and sighed. Then he relaxed. I am told that if he ever becomes focused on something again to call right away to have it checked.  So far, so good, I can carry on with life as a survivor.

Our rescue group has fostered about 250 beagles released from research labs. Some have been used in cancer research. We have personally fostered a few released beagles. Nothing beats the sight of a beagle running in the grass for the first time. I have a lot of friends and family who work in the pharmaceutical industry. When I was offered a clinical trial or do nothing, I picked the trial-how could I say no? There were really no drugs to treat my stage of melanoma. That scared me and made me realize just how deadly this can be. So I signed the clinical trial paperwork on my 44^th birthday. I started treatment in August. I was not willing to accept the 50% 5 year survival rate if I did nothing.

I was still teaching but life was getting hard. I had constant headaches and joint aches. Turns out my pituitary blew out from treatment. I almost died.  I was one of about 10 who had this happen so no one was really thinking this was the problem. I ended up in the hospital and finally my oncologist spoke to an endocrinologist who figured out I had the teeny, tiny percentage side effect. Which is typical for me! When I asked the doctor what the research showed for quality of life and such she put her hand on my knee and said “Sandy, you are the research.” She was determined that I would still be able to teach and live a normal life. I am also the survivor they talk about as this happens to more and more patients. I’m my oncologist’s poster child for life after pituitary failure.

I’m not going to lie-there have been some really debilitating days, weeks and months but I’m still here. I’ve had adrenal crashes that have landed me in the hospital and it is unnerving to hear the ER doctors say they can’t handle me here…..I need to go to their Trauma ER. Thankfully we live just minutes from Robert Wood because that’s all it takes for me to go from being sick to crashing.

I felt I had two choices all along on this journey-let this destroy me or use the experience for good and make my life better. I grabbed my imaginary warrior shield, some really good mantras, rounded up my warrior friends and we warriored through this. I swore there would be no bad days, but there could be bad moments, hours, or parts of days. My students were always quick to remind me of that if I seemed to be down or dragging.

So my worlds collided. A rescue dog rescued me.  I see it as my mission to educate others about melanoma.  My students have learned sun safety from me but more importantly, have told me I am a role model for them when it comes to not letting life defeat you. Knowing Rosemary and Fran was such a help-I had people who knew what I was up against and were able to prepare me for things.

 Fran told me the first year after diagnosis would be my year from hell which helped me accept the sometimes daily trips to the Cancer Institute for bloodwork, Iv’s, treatment and appointments as temporary-life would eventually get to what I call the New Normal.  It sure was a year from hell especially when trying to navigate through the unknown while also dealing with the debilitating pituitary issues. I’m so thankful I have a fantastic team of doctors, wonderfully supportive friends, cheering family members, terrific students and of course, my husband and chief caregiver, Dave. He had to do a lot of things he never expected on this journey. We laughed, cried, and were afraid together.

Dave kept reminding me that I have survived and it’s ok to live life. We have lived life. Since diagnosis, we were part of a school trip to Paris. I have walked the Brooklyn Bridge. I have participated in Miles for Melanoma events. I spoke at a Relay fund raising walk held at my school. The school even held a melanoma walk fundraiser for my Miles for Melanoma team. I have crossed several items off my bucket list. Tomorrow I have orientation for graduate school. Friday I’m trying a chair yoga class. I need to keep growing and trying and living. I know it’s strange to say, but cancer has probably been one of the best things to happen to me. I appreciate life so much more, I’ve met some amazing people and have done things I would not normally do in life. I live life differently now.

So now I look ahead and I look forward to the Woodbridge Relay. The township is my second home since I teach at Kennedy HS in Iselin and I can’t wait to relay with all of you and my students who can see me carry on as a fighter and a survivor.