Hazel Muhlenbruch

During the fall of ’97 and early spring of ’98, I had an intuitive feeling that something was wrong within my body. Consequently, I decided to have my annual checkup to see if there was an underlying cause that would explain why I couldn’t workout for two hours a day (one hour of walking and one hour of aerobics), as I had done the previous year. I made an appointment to have my annual mammogram with a doctor who was referred to me by a friend. Since I had been in Kansas for only a short time, I didn’t know anyone nor did I have a family practitioner per se.

The day after I had the mammogram, I was told I needed another mammogram taken of the right breast, only magnified this time. I went back the next day and had the mammogram. It showed a large mass in the right breast. A biopsy was scheduled a few days later. I requested that I have this done by a doctor in Wichita, since he was going to do my yearly endoscopy. I took the breast X-rays and other paper work to him. He scheduled a mammotome of the breast involved. This was performed at an outpatient facility. A followup visit was scheduled for the following week.

At that visit, the nurse and the doctor, with my folder in his hand, came in and said, "It’s bad news. It’s cancer." I asked, "What are my options?" (Being an American Indian, I have always been taught to accept what befalls me, to work with my mind and the doctors or medicine people who would take care of my illness, and to trust in Our Creator’s will.) The doctor seemed taken aback by my question, which I followed up with more questions. "What do you recommend doing? What do you plan to do?" He said he was "… going to do a lumpectomy" followed by "six weeks of radiation." He told me to talk to his nurse who would make all the arrangements.

To the best of my recollection, I was given a brochure on breast cancer and the types of surgery generally performed. The nurse then took care of the necessary paper work and informed me that surgery would take place within a few days. My friend, who had accompanied me to this visit was as surprised as I was at the manner in which I was told of the diagnosis of cancer and what was to be done.

He (my friend) then drove me back to Argonia, to the farmhouse I was house-sitting. I remarked that I didn’t feel comfortable with the diagnosis or the pending surgery. It was then that I DECIDED TO TAKE CHARGE. I looked through the medical books I had for reference, called a nearby library for information on breast cancer and watched TV to add a bit of noise in this silent residence. What a surprise (perhaps providential) to see the commercial for Cancer Treatment Centers of America (CTCA), complete with phone number! I called and connected with an Oncology Information Specialist, who had the kindest voice and was very concerned, helpful and informative. I told her of my diagnosis and how unsure I was about what questions to ask. After some discussion, she told me that she would fax me information about CTCA and would mail a packet of materials that I could read through and then call her with any questions. (It should be noted that the surgery I had scheduled to be performed in Kansas was in a matter of days. I felt pressured to be as prepared as possible should it take place.)

I read through the material from CTCA. Being an American Indian, who came from a holistic way of life (body, mind, heart, spirit, and soul union, which evolve and revolve around a spiritual core), CTCA with its multidisciplinary approach to fighting cancer was what I was looking for.

I decided that I wasn’t going to have the lumpectomy or the subsequent radiation. I canceled the surgery. I needed to be more educated before I agreed to anything. The nurse was quite disturbed with me, and even more so after I asked for my pathology report and copies of my mammograms.

I then contacted my friend’s secretary who had had a double mastectomy and she said she would come out to see me. I felt that a breast cancer survivor was someone I needed to talk to. She discussed her experience, showed me her scars, answered all the questions I posed, including the name and phone number of her surgeon so I could get a second opinion.

I called the surgeon and was greeted by the kindest receptionist. I told her who had referred me, the reason for my call and asked if I could make an appointment. She said, "Would you like to speak to the doctor?" I almost fell out of my chair! Imagine! I could speak to the doctor over the phone…someone I had never met! Suddenly, I felt this sense of peace throughout my body, knowing once again Our Creator was orchestrating the scenario. The doctor spoke with me for about 20 minutes, answered the questions I had and scheduled an appointment in two days of my call. He asked me to bring my mammograms, pathology report from the mammotome tissue samples and whatever else that seemed to be pertinent. I proceeded to do a medical/linguistic analysis of the pathology report, wrote up questions that I had from all the research I had been doing and prepared myself for my initial visit with the doctor. His office was in a village called Medicine Lodge. Medicine Lodge has a world-renowned history of the native American Indian people who had dwelled there, and still do. It's where peace treaties were signed, and where a pageant honoring these treaties is held every two years.

My friend took me to Medicine Lodge. Upon arrival there, I knew I was at the place I needed to be. We were welcomed most warmly by the receptionist, who took medical information, and then by the kindest nurse who showed us to the examining room and stated that the doctor would be in shortly to meet with us. I, of course, had my briefcase, which contained a three-ring binder full of questions, the linguistic/medical analysis of my pathology report, the mammograms, etc. I sat on the examining table and spread out all the materials I wished to discuss with the doctor. He came in a few minutes later with his nurse and shook my hand firmly. I asked if it was acceptable to read my questions from my three-ring binder. He told me that it would be fine. We discussed my prognosis and my research findings. He answered all questions candidly. After approximately one hour’s discussion, he gave me options and alternatives. I would go home to think about these options before I made any decisions about surgery and follow up treatment. He emphasized the fact that it had to be MY DECISION. He informed me later that he had never met anyone who had done as much research about her illness as I had and that I probably knew more than the doctors. I was one patient he would never forget. It is difficult to express in words the peaceful feeling in my soul and spirit after that visit, knowing that Our Creator was guiding my path to enlightenment about the cancer which dwelled within my body.

Again, I called my "lifeline" at CTCA—my Oncology Information Specialist, giving her an update on my situation and requesting more information on CTCA. Upon receipt of the materials discussed, I felt assured that the CTCA would become a part of my medical or surgical decision.

I scheduled another appointment with the surgeon in Medicine Lodge because I had more questions needing answers. He and his nurse graciously gave me another hour or so to discuss pending surgery and arrangements. Since there were different stages of cancer in the 12 tissue samples taken by the mammotome, I opted for a modified radical mastectomy. I didn’t know how much time I dared take. I didn’t know how rapidly the cancer would spread. The surgery date was set for September 16 at 7 a.m. To me, Medicine Lodge felt like the appropriate place to be, in view of its American Indian history and presence.

I tolerated the surgery well and was discharged in two days. My friend’s secretary came, stayed with my friend throughout my surgery, and knew exactly what my needs would be after surgery and while recuperating. Upon my return home, she had a crock pot full of hot chicken with noodles, an angel food cake, and a warm home throughout. She has been an angel cancer survivor sister in every sense of the word!

During my followup visit a week after surgery, I informed the surgeon that I was going to have CTCA take charge of my subsequent care and treatment. This he supported, since it was his practice, generally, to match the patient’s personality with an oncologist in Wichita. There wasn’t a one that he felt he could recommend for me. He applauded my wish to go to CTCA. He was familiar with CTCA because I had shared the materials with him so that other cancer patients would be aware of this option.

An appointment was made at CTCA for October of 1998, one month after my surgery. My friend (who has since become my husband) took me there. We were warmly greeted and made to feel most welcome and cared about. We felt an immediate kinship with the staff, physicians and other patients who were there for treatment. There was never a complaint uttered, only an upbeat attitude among the patients in various stages of cancer and treatment. There was this understood feeling that we were in this fight against cancer together. This unified force is a formidably humbling and spiritually strong competitor. CTCA is the place to be when one is diagnosed with cancer.

Further, CTCA's philosophy of treatment, with its multidisciplinary approach through the body, mind, spirit, and soul connections, is exactly the way the American Indian lives and practices medicine.

April 15, 2008

At the present time, I am in a reverent period since the loss of my beautiful and talented daughter, Michele Dean Stock, to cancer on May 11, 2006. She did not get the excellent care that one receives at the Cancer Treatment Centers of America.

In any event, Our Creator has spared me for His purposes. Can you believe that I’ll be a 10-year survivor since my diagnosis and surgery in August and September 1998, respectively?

Continue to walk, work and live in the sunshine of Our Creator’s love and blessings.

Breast Cancer