Kim Newman was diagnosed in January 2023 at age 58 with estrogen-positive breast cancer; she was initially diagnosed with stage 1 but ended up with stage 2C, an extremely aggressive form of breast cancer. Kim had a double mastectomy, followed by six months of chemotherapy.
Although she was the first person in her family to be diagnosed, she had known several women who had been diagnosed within the past five years, including a neighbor on her street and three other acquaintances.
Below, Kim shared about her journey in her own words:
When I was diagnosed, I thought, oh crap! But this happens to a lot of women. There was a lot of fear in terms of how you stop life. The surgery takes quite a bit of time to recover and then chemotherapy is quite a lengthy process; it destroys your body.
No pity, though. I was a bit worried about my future. Is this going to be something that takes you? How am I going to manage? The fear of various kinds of treatments. Losing your breasts is no easy task. The fear of the impact it’s going to have on me emotionally.
My experience going through the process was bittersweet.
Bitter because I lost a sense of everything I held of value on many levels, some on the surface. I worked, but I lost my mind a little bit. I couldn’t think clearly; I lost the ability to think deeply because I was so tired.
I was a highly active person. I worked out a lot and loved hiking. I was always in the outdoors; I was planning a biking trip to Italy – all those things had to be canceled.
I pulled out of work and other things I valued. I felt lost. That’s the grief part of losing those parts of yourself. And that’s not even counting losing your breasts and your hair; those weren’t quite as painful for me.
I lost my identity in a way. I didn’t feel like Kim anymore.
The sweet part was the remarkable group of people who surrounded me for months and took care of me. My youngest son and his wife came and lived with me and my husband for three weeks to help take care of me after my mastectomy. And they came back a few months later to help me with one of my chemo sessions.
Through work, neighbors, and church, I had meals for months. I had so many people, we had to limit the number that came by. It was seriously remarkable.
Within a week of diagnosis, I met Dr. Gabriel who happened to work out at the same place as I did. I had not met him yet but knew he would be my plastic surgeon. The manager had pointed him out and said, “There’s your plastic surgeon.” I walked up and said hi to him. And he’s the one who connected me with Pink Lemonade Project.
I received texts from my doctors on the weekends, especially from Dr. Gabriel. Every weekend for quite a while, they just wanted to see how I was feeling. How many doctors do that?
There were texts from the Pink Lemonade Project team checking in on me. You become part of a club – the breast cancer survivor club. It is the club you never want to be in, but it becomes a special club. I met and talked with a lot of people who have walked my journey. You get encouragement from them, so you don’t feel so crazy.
There was tremendous support also from the health system. I had a nurse practitioner who was an integrative health practitioner. Her whole job was to help me with my symptoms. We would meet every two to four weeks to discuss my symptoms. She would give me natural options – seeing an acupuncturist, getting chemotherapy massages, and medications. She gave me many different ideas to manage the symptoms. That was incredible.
I attended Pink Link events, but Pink Lemonade Project’s mentorship program was the biggest piece for me. I was able to talk to someone regularly in the beginning – every week or two – to talk about my fears because you don’t know in the beginning. How would I respond to everything? I didn’t know what the next steps were – you get the mastectomy, but you don’t know if you will need chemo for your type of breast cancer.
Having someone to talk to and know that they made it through treatment and are thriving was encouraging to me. Because you feel at some points like you’re never going to get better.
My diagnosis and treatment have shifted my perspective on life two-fold.
Inwardly, I am much more grace-filled toward myself and grateful for what my body can do. I am grateful for this new journey; the old Kim is no longer, but this new person is a gentler and more gracious person toward myself and others. I just don’t get shaken by things as much. I see things come; life happens.
Right after all this happened, my granddaughter was born at 24 weeks. It was three weeks after my last surgery she was born. Having those two things – two traumatic things – happen so close together, you hold life and are grateful for the life you have, and for the people you have.
She spent 160 days in the NIC unit. We just saw her last week and she’s doing well, sitting up on her own, and she’s beautiful when she smiles.
I said two-fold, so externally, I’m much more gracious with other people because you don’t know anyone else’s story. And I know that when you are feeling terrible you don’t have a lot of energy to give to others. When you meet other people, they may come across as selfish, but you don’t know their story. I let people be however they are going to be and not letting it impact me.
Don’t try to be tough. Don’t try to do it alone. I learned we were meant to live as people in community. We were meant to need each other; be with each other. A lot of women are fiercely independent and don’t want to ask for help, but people want to give help, they want to help you, they want to walk alongside you, so let them. Be vulnerable to a few people and let them help you. That would be my advice.
I would tell women to allow themselves to grieve. If you get a mastectomy, you lose your breasts and you lose sensation in your breasts. And, yes, you can get rebuilt breasts – and mine are lovely – that is a loss and it’s okay to grieve it. You are saved from dying from breast cancer, but it’s okay to grieve. And a year later, once I went through the main treatment, and then the maintenance treatment, I felt like I should be ready to fly, but still so tired. So, give yourself some grace through the process.
My heart aches for those women who don’t have people like the supportive network I had. I’m grateful for organizations like Pink Lemonade Project that can surround these women. Pink Lemonade Project was one piece of my puzzle. For women who don’t have family around or a network of friends – ask for help. Know that even other survivors want to help because they know what it’s like, even though your story will be different; they want to walk alongside you. Be humble enough to ask.
There’s beauty in it, there’s light in the darkness. Other people can help you see some of that light when it’s hard to see it yourself.
