The word, “champion,” evokes so many emotions. If you search for a definition you will find some recurring themes: A person who has defeated or surpassed all rivals in a competition, a person who fights or argues for a cause or on behalf of someone else, an advocate, proponent, supporter, defender, upholder, and backer.” One of my favorite descriptions of a champion, however, takes on a historical context: “A knight who fought in single combat on behalf of the monarch.” That in a nutshell is my Robert- my knight who fought in single combat on my behalf. He was, is, and will continue to be my “Champion.”

Our journey together with breast cancer really began before I ever met him. His mother, Muriel, was diagnosed with breast cancer in 1978 when Robert was a senior in high school.     . She underwent a radical mastectomy and went on to volunteer for The American Cancer Society’s Reach to Recovery program and is a 37-year survivor. I think this experience with his Mom was the seed that prepared Robert’s heart for what was to come in our life together.

In my thirties, we began to see foreshadows of breast cancer that darted in and out of our lives. I had cysts drained, a fibroadenoma biopsied, and was followed closely with mammograms and ultrasounds. Robert went with me to the appointments with my breast specialist and was forever my optimist.

From our thirties through our fifties, we opened our own small business, raised three incredible children together, and looked forward to the days ahead. The fall of 2012 was a year of transitions for us. Our two sons were finishing up graduate school and our daughter was preparing to graduate from The Ohio State University with a degree in social work. In December that year the young man she had been dating asked to meet Robert and I for lunch. (This should be a “heads up” to all you mothers out there.) Paul, the said young man, was in love with our daughter. He was going to propose. He was also in the Naval ROTC program at OSU which would mean he would no longer live in Ohio after he and Elizabeth graduated in the spring. That lunch took our breath away- we loved Paul. We marveled that he invited us to lunch, but it was difficult thinking of our daughter possibly moving far from home.

The calendar refused to stand still and Paul proposed on Elizabeth’s birthday that February. They wanted to be married immediately after graduation. No problem, right?! So May of 2013 looked something like this: Son #1 graduated from grad school Friday, May 3; Elizabeth and Paul graduated from OSU on Sunday, May 5; Elizabeth and Paul were married on Friday, May 10; Son #2 graduated from grad school May 17, and we moved Elizabeth and Paul to Norfolk, Virginia the weekend of May 24^th. WHEW!! Through every transition, Robert prayed with me, laughed with me, cried with me, and encouraged me.

We came home from Virginia and I felt it. It seemed to be positioned oh so near my fibroadenoma. Maybe it was the fibroadenoma? Robert felt it too. I decided I should call my breast specialist. But I waited a day or two. I still remember standing in our front yard, planting flowers, and feeling in my spirit- Call now. Call today. So, before I knew it I had an appointment for the very next day.

I went by myself because after 20-plus years of cysts, ultrasounds, and exams I thought it was most likely nothing. My breast surgeon was not back from the hospital yet but her incredibly wonderful nurse practitioner, Suzanne, performed a needle-guided biopsy. She asked me if I would like to wait for Dr. Brenda to arrive before going home to which I answered a resounding, “Yes.” Something shifted in my spirit. I was no longer certain this was nothing. Suddenly I knew in my soul that something was wrong- terribly wrong.

Approximately 48 hours later my cell phone rang at work and Robert and I were initiated into a club we had hoped never to join- the Breast Cancer Club. From that moment forward, Robert took my battle on as his own and was my knight- fighting on my behalf. He rearranged meetings with clients to go to every appointment with my breast specialist and my plastic surgeon. He asked questions, listened to a recording of our appointment with the breast surgeon countless times, read articles, and took notes at the plastic surgeon’s office. His engineer-trained mind even discussed with my surgeon about a way to possibly save my nipples. This still makes me smile. No- they could not be saved- but he had a surgical plan all worked out in his mind.

We went shopping for a recliner which would become my close friend for weeks following my surgery. We tried out each chair- pretending we were just making an ordinary furniture purchase. We went to dinner and ate Mexican food. We longed for normalcy. Robert made himself a part of all the pre-surgical planning. He agreed we should invite my parents to stay with us following my surgery so he could go to the office and try to keep his head above water. I shared with him that I had arranged a meeting with our Pastor and he had only one question- what time is the meeting and where do I show up?

The afternoon before my surgery we met with our Pastor and the Elders of our church. They prayed over me and anointed me with oil. This was something Robert and I had never experienced – yet he never questioned anything I arranged for us to do. He prayed with me that night and again that next morning in the parking garage of the hospital. Before going back to the operating room, Dr. Brenda, Robert, and I all joined hands and prayed together. We had many family members at the hospital. I made him promise that he would ask Dr. Brenda to just talk with him alone- that he would talk with my family. I wanted the first person to hear the outcome of my surgery to be my husband.

Robert stayed with me in the hospital. I had a bilateral mastectomy with sentinel node dissection and immediate reconstruction. No expanders- immediate placing of my implants. That evening my knight fed me ice chips, washed my face after my body gave way to the effects of anesthesia, and monitored the output of my drains. We went home 24 hours after my surgery- not because I’m Wonder Woman- but because my surgeon did not want to risk the possibility of infection and my losing my implants. We pulled in the driveway and while my parents were inside waiting to take care of me- Robert was my constant caregiver that weekend. He had my prescriptions methodically lined up on the kitchen table with a detailed schedule. Robert checked, emptied, and monitored my drains before going to work each day and again in the evening. He helped me shower, dress, and brush my teeth. He held me when I cried, listened as I vented, and laughed when I was silly.

My plastic surgeon wanted me to have nightly injections to avoid developing a blood clot and Robert soon became an expert giver of shots- right in the stomach. He always said, “I’m sorry,” right before he inserted the needle. I had difficulty healing and we soon became fast friends with the staff of our plastic surgeon’s office. Her office was about 45 minutes from our house and Robert dropped everything at work when we needed to see her. He missed out on some business from potential clients and the mound of paperwork he brought home was intimidating.

My parents eventually went home and I was finally in healing mode. Healing on the outside- but my healing on the inside was tenuous. We waited anxiously for the results of my ONCO-DX test and we both cheered when we found out I would not need chemo. He coaxed me into swallowing my first dose of Tamoxifen as I cited all my research about possible side effects. When we discovered that immediate reconstruction is not a “one-stop shopping experience” – he told me it didn’t matter if one implant had settled into a lower zipcode than the other. He supported me when I said I wanted a “revision”- a nice way of saying a second surgery would be necessary.

Robert smiled when I read him research about diet and exercise. He did not grimace or protest when I proclaimed our kingdom would now be bereft of red meat. When our grocery bills doubled due to our pursuing an organic diet, he quietly balanced our checkbook. When I asked if I could see a Christian counselor to sort through the changes in my body and spirit, he thought that was a fine idea. As I grew stronger and wanted to explore Pilates, he encouraged me to try whatever I thought would make me feel better.

Robert attended a cooking and nutrition class where he was the only man in the room. He handled it like a champ! When I told him I would like to start a blog and write about breast cancer and life, he became my first regular reader. When it was time for a second and final revision, he went with me to see the plastic surgeon. He stayed in the room for the procedure and assured me that I was going to heal beautifully. And I did heal- this time on the inside as well.

Throughout this journey Robert has been my confidante, my source of strength, my comforter, my nurse, my psychologist, and my friend. He has been selfless, patient, loving, and positive. He has made me feel beautiful again and loved unconditionally. As my best friend said, “He treats you like a queen.” So I guess it is rather fitting that he is my knight- single-handedly taking on breast cancer- and leaving me with the treasured spoils of this battle: JOY. My Robert is indeed my Champion.