Brooke Sherman is shown above with her mother, Judy Sherman, in 1996 on the day of Brooke's homecoming dance during her junior year of high school. Judy Sherman died of breast cancer a week after Brooke graduated from college.

Brooke Sherman sits on her mother's lap on her first day of first grade in 1986.

Beating breast cancer: If something doesn't feel right, persist in finding out the reason.

First Person column by Cindy Burdick

My name is Cindy Burdick. I am 54 years old and I am a two-year survivor.

I was diagnosed on April 7, 2004, with inflammatory breast cancer. Only 1 percent of women who develop breast cancer have this type. I didn't have a lump. I didn't have pain and I had just had my mammogram a month earlier. But, one of my breasts felt firmer.

I called the doctor and got in to see the physician's assistant. She felt that it was fluid built up in my breast, but sent me for an ultrasound. The technician didn't see anything and the radiologist came in and asked what he was supposed to be looking for because he didn't see anything in the ultrasound. I explained and he said he agreed it was fluid because nothing showed. After a couple of months, my breast was still getting firmer, so I called and said that I had to see the doctor.

After an exam, I was sent immediately for a needle biopsy. There was something there. They called my doctor and it was decided that I should go to Rochester for a digital mammogram and core biopsy. (By this time, four months had passed.) Two days later, Dr. Joseph Navone called and wanted my husband and me to come to his office to discuss the results (This was not a good feeling.). He informed us of the findings and said I was to start chemotherapy the following week. At that point I was in the third stage of breast cancer and it was only five months since my yearly mammogram.

I went through five months of chemo at Dr Navone's office with wonderful people there to see me through (Thanks, Ken and Maryanne), a mastectomy in Rochester and radiation five days a week for seven weeks at the Falck Center (Thanks, Karen you are still my favorite Zapper!). I owe “big kudos” to Dr. Navone (my life saver), Dr. Nancy King, Dr. Rose Byland and Dr. Andrus.

My family was a “rock” through this ordeal, especially my two granddaughters. Brianna was always there to lend me a hand. She especially liked to shave my head. (When my hair started falling out after my first chemotherapy, I decided to go bald my way!). My other granddaughter, Emma, was born seven weeks early, two months before I was diagnosed. She was sent for a reason. I would sit and rock her or she would lay with me if I was too ill to get up. They are my angels!

The year 2004 was the most traumatic year of my entire life and with the help and prayers of my loving family, dear friends and caring medical staff, I made it through with flying colors!! (Pink, of course!) The biggest, most important part of this or any disease is your attitude and outlook. No, it wasn't easy. Yes, I had pain. Yes, I was sick. Yes, I was bald. And yes, I was petrified, but I had a positive, upbeat attitude and I was not going to let it get me down. My advice to every woman of all ages is you know your body and if you feel something isn't right, keep insisting on finding out what it is.

If I hadn't, I would not be here to enjoy life.

Cindy Burdick lives in Erin and works for Chemung Canal Trust Co. in Elmira. First Person offers immediate reaction from readers affected by stories of interest.

From a teenager who’s mom was diagnosed with breast cancer

As I hear the talk again, I glance off in to the field. I see the green and white scoreboard. It say’s visitors zero, with one light blown out in the corner of the zero, it’s the top of the first. I know what I have to do; I know what I am capable of. My eyes begin to water and the allergies kick in with the smell of fresh cut grass and all the spring pollen in the air. As everyone begins to run to their position, I head towards first base.  I jump the white chalky line as I always do for good luck. With the baseball in my right hand and my leather chance for opportunity in my left hand, in the infield, the shortstop and second baseman are ready for me to throw one their way to warm up.

As I roll the first grounder I begin to think back to April 16, I was 14 years old, it was the bottom of the 7th inning. The score was 7 to 6.  We were winning. They had a guy on second and third there were two outs.  I look back at my friend in right field and I yell to him “lay out for anything; this is the game”.  I could see by the stone cold look in his face that he was ready. And as the ball came off the bat it was coming right at me, as it skipped up off the ground, I dropped to my knees to take it in the chest to knock the ball down and take the out at first to end the game.  But as it hit the ground it hit that one stone in the infield of dirt and the ball kicked off to the side into the outfield. I had let my team and coaches down. As I sat in the cold plain white dugout for an hour after the game, I was so alone I felt that nothing could be worse.

When I arrived home I didn’t talk to anyone. As I walked up the stairs they cracked every step as if to laugh at me, I grabbed my blanket and pillow, turned the music on and lay on the floor. I never wanted to leave that room and I didn’t understand how I could have misjudged that ball, the same play I had made 10,000 times before that. As drifted off to sleep so many things were going through my head. When I woke up the next morning and looked at the clock, it was 9:17. I lay there for 5 minutes before my mom came into my room and sat next to me.

As she sat down she started to cry and I had no idea what was going on and she told me that she was sick, had been to the doctor and was told that there was a spot. She had breast cancer. It put everything into perspective. It made me realize that sports are not life. There are things a lot more important than what happened on the field. As I looked at my mom seeing her looking so scared I knew that I could not start to cry.  I had to be strong for her, I tried to hold it back but a few tears crept out and flowed down my face like two giant boulders. I have never felt a pain such as that in my entire life. Who would have ever thought a spot the size of that pebble in the infield the night before would change my entire life.

As I scoop the ball in warm ups I know I will make that play in the seventh inning. Because if I am strong enough to help my mom get through all the pain and fear she had to go through, I am strong enough to get through anything that life throws my way, and I know I can't take advantage life. That experience changed my whole life, after that I knew I had to start trying harder in school and get a good education so I can be as proud of myself, as I am of my mom for making it through the most difficult situation she has ever had to face.

Deborah Dickerson
Burdett, NY
50 years young

It was March 2002; I was fast approaching my 48^th birthday.  It had been 3 years since I had a physical and a mammogram, something we’ve all put off at one time or another.  Some little voice told me to call and start scheduling appointments.  That little voice probably helped save my life.

I left work early for my appointment at the hospital.  Mammograms are never pleasant but it’s what I call a “necessary evil”.  The technicians at Cayuga Medical Center in Ithaca know what they’re doing and a good tech can make all the difference.

She took pictures from all angles and, as routine; I waited for the doctor to check the films.  She came back in and this time didn’t tell me I could go.  There’s a small area we want to get a closer look at and the ultra sound room is open - do you have time?

A week later a biopsy was performed and yes I heard the dreaded “C” word. The tears began to flow.  The worst part was telling my 3 sons, the youngest was still living at home and a freshman in high school.  I sat on the edge of his bed the following afternoon, tears falling; I told him I had to have surgery to remove a cancerous mass in my breast.  He was so brave - put his arm around me and told me things would be all right.  My two other sons were living in an apartment in Syracuse.  My husband and I thought it best to tell them in person so the weekend before surgery we drove to Syracuse to take them to dinner.  The son in medical school seemed to take it in stride but his brother had a harder time dealing with it.

Things happened so fast from that point.  I arrived at the hospital on the morning of May 9^th, dye was inserted into my right breast and that afternoon a lumpectomy was performed.  And eventually I found out that it was Stage 1 cancer, I was one of the luckier ones.

Two weeks later I had my first appointment with the oncologist.  We had to chart a course of action.  After discussions with the doctor, reading articles, visiting the Ithaca Breast Cancer Alliance, and talking with family members; it was decided to do a round of chemo and then radiation.

My first chemo was scheduled for June 5^th.  I was having 8 chemo treatments 3 weeks apart.  The first one seemed relatively painless.  Two days later it hit me hard.  I was so nauseous and tired.  The next treatment I scheduled for a Thursday was able to take Friday off and by Monday I was ready to great the world again.  Work was extremely generous with time off and also appreciated me coming in as much as I did.   When my treatments were half way through - they brought in half moon cookies to celebrate!  After about 5 of the chemo treatments my blood count was getting lower than the doctors liked.  I had to delay by a few days the next treatment.  This happened 2 or 3 times during the course of my treatments.

My friends, family and coworkers really rallied around.  One friend sent me a cheer-up card in the mail that was timed to arrive the day after my treatments, another brought dinners over and some wonderful desserts, my sister sent me a different angel or a pink ribbon motif every month.  I had people come clean my house.  But most important of all they were all there for my emotional support!

After finishing my 8 chemo treatments, I had 6 weeks off to build up my strength before starting the next round - radiation.

I was to have 30 treatments total.  I scheduled my treatments for first thing in the morning.  Before going into work I stopped at the radiologist’s office had a treatment and then proceeded into work.  Towards the end of my treatments the radiologist office informed me that the balance of my treatments would be in Syracuse.  They rented an extended van, provided a driver and drove between 5 and 7 of us up there on a daily basis.  I only had 8 treatments in Syracuse but the camaraderie on these trips was tremendous.  You would have thought we were headed on a shopping trip.  The laughter and jokes were a great morale booster; if we hadn’t been joking we’d all have been in tears.  We would arrive back in Ithaca around noon and I would head to the office.

I received my diploma from the radiologist on February 3^rd, 2003.

Soon I will be celebrating my 4^th anniversary of being cancer free.  To this day when I walk the survivors lap in the “Relay for Life” I am amazed at the caring and support involved.  I firmly believe that my situation was made much easier for me to bear because of all the support I received from family, friends, coworkers, and even strangers.

On a recent celebratory trip to Alaska, I was wearing my pink baseball cap when another woman came up to me and asked if I was a survivor.  She was just starting her treatments.