Note: The interviews and the columns in this series became the basis for a book: Keep on, Keepin’ on. It was published last spring and is available through Amazon.

Tomorrow, Breast Cancer Awareness Month is over for another year and football players will stop using pink athletic tape; most of us will return to our daily lives. For women and families living with breast cancer, though, it is something that goes on for much more than a month.

For Jean Hanna Davis, in the middle of her second bout with cancer and the chemotherapy that goes with it, one way she deals with the tension, stress and sickness is her faith. She comes from a family with a strong belief system; her father is an ordained Deacon in the Catholic Church.  For someone who once planned to be one of the church’s first women priests (she pursued a degree in theology) faith isn’t a simple, singular thing, however. She discussed Faith and Cancer recently along with her parents John and Arlene.

Jean: At a party, there was a woman there who spends half the year in Israel converting people to Christianity. She was very elderly. She went to Cindy, a five year breast cancer survivor, and this woman and Cindy, and six other people, came to me and said, “Would it be okay if we prayed over you?” By the time we got inside, there was this circle of women, and they had gotten Juliana because she is very much a co-survivor in this story, and they prayed over us and laid hands on us. It was all denominations and it was powerful. They were asking for intercession and healing.

Arlene: I believe that the power of prayer can work, the positiveness can work.

John: People ask me, “Can you use a Baptist prayer?” and I say, “Does it work?” If it works pray.

Arlene: When one or more get together…

Jean: I believe in all forms of prayer. A friend of mine came to school one day and gave me a medicine bag. He made sure to tell me that it was a powerful medicine bag because it was stitched by hand and other people are not supposed to touch it. When it is a gift from someone, you include something in it from yourself. And I have an incredibly worn guitar pick; that generally doesn’t happen. It has thousands of hours on it that I put in it. I have some sage and some lavender from my garden that I put in it. I have a gem that fell off of a piece from Jeannette because as she crafts her jewelry she seals it with healing sound.  And then I have my Miraculous Medal that you gave me last time. And some other things…I carry this with me. Most days I wear it. I thought it was so neat that Wayne gave me this and I put my own twist in it. I carry a lot of different stuff, I really believe it is mojo.

Even for those with strong faith, and possibly more so, the helplessness that comes with disease is difficult.

John: God and I have had a number of arguments. Cursing is a form of prayer. I had a person who was studying theology tell me if you are having something going on, you talk to God like a person. That gave me the permission to talk to God.

Arlene: I like to talk to Mary, the mother of Jesus. I have a statue of Mary in my backyard and I’ve got to see her. Whenever I go into my living room I see her, it’s a reminder.

John: I told a person who had cancer and was praying all the time for healing that death is the final healing. I struggle with that now. Is that something I believe in? We tend to say, “His will be done, as long as it’s mine, too.” Do we have the faith? All prayers are answered and you better answer mine the right way.

The year Jean was born, her grandmother Geraldine Loyola Hanna had breast cancer. Her birthday was October 28, the same day Jean had her fifth chemotherapy treatment. Her father brought Jean a collection of things that belonged to her including a rosary from Medjugorje (in Bosnia and Herzegovina), St. Jude oil, St. Elizabeth Ann Seton with relic, St. Jude medal, St. Dymphna, St. Lucy, Green Scapula, Sacred Heart of Jesus.

The rosary isn’t from Grandmom, but it is directly connected to her because she was a fierce rosary prayin’ woman. She always had a rosary in her hand. I fall asleep most nights praying the rosary. It helps me go to sleep. And then there is also a whole mess of medals. This was Grandmom’s medal kit and she kept it with her.

The last time I had cancer, I wished Grandmom was there. She died 15 years ago of non-Hodgkins lymphoma after 32 years of being a breast cancer survivor. She did it and she lived with it. When I got all of that stuff on her birthday, I just felt that much more connected to her. My song that I wrote, Circle Around The Sun, is about her. “What do you when the walls come crashing down, when things just can’t be the way they were?” I wrote it as she was dying.

The refrain is:

Circle around the sun,

Circle around the moon,

What goes around, comes around,

and it happens all too soon.

Then five years later I was diagnosed. I thought how nice it would be if she was here.

And now, thanks to the gift of faith from her father, Jean gets to keep Grandmom with her throughout this battle with breast cancer.

This is the final entry in the series of blogs for Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Jean Hanna Davis has given me access to each of her chemotherapy treatments while she works to rid her body of cancer for a second time.

Previous posts are:

• Telling stories that need to be told
• Talking about cancer
• Breast Cancer: Living Out Loud
• I’m not sick, I just have cancer
• Breast Cancer: Family

You can see the entire series on the Breast Cancer Page in the non-fiction section of my website.

This series is dedicated to Jean and her family, along with all the women who have fought breast cancer—patients and families alike. Follow this link to find out more about Breast Cancer Awareness Month. It is a clearing house of information with links and connections to many of the major players in the fight against breast cancer..

Note: The interviews and the columns in this series became the basis for a book: Keep on, Keepin’ on. It was published last spring and is available through Amazon.

Jean Hanna Davis is going through chemotherapy for breast cancer for the second time in 10 years. Her first time, she was pregnant with her youngest daughter Juliana. For someone from a close-knit family, the risk to her un-born child was terrible to face, but Jean and her husband Joe faced it together.

So, we researched and went into my first meeting with Dr. Chambers. We said, we know we are pregnant and I am a teacher of children with moderate to severe special needs. We know that anything can go wrong with any pregnancy, but we are not going to terminate this pregnancy. The doctor was relieved because she didn’t have to say those words.

This time I don’t have a baby. My baby is taking care of me. That is a blessing and some sadness. I hate it that she has to go through this. Hanna was four and she has some memories, but I’m not sure whether she remembers them or they are implanted memories. Hanna didn’t know what death was, but she knows now. You can’t really reassure them. You can make plans, but those plans spin on a dime.

Music runs through the Davis family. Jean and her daughters play and sing.

Hanna sings “I Run for Life” (by Melissa Etheridge). She won’t let me sing it anymore; she wants to sing it. At her talent show at the end of the school year, a month after I was diagnosed, she wanted to sing it. She got on that stage and said, ‘This is a song about breast cancer. I’m gonna sing it for my mommy and for all the other people fighting breast cancer.’ She sings it in a different key than I do and that was good because I had to pay attention. (Jean was playing guitar to accompany her.) She did so well, she nailed it. I worry about her; she does that kind of stuff. She doesn’t want to talk about it, but she wanted to come to chemo today. I don’t think she understands that I am attached to this thing for hours.

It’s been years since they told her about it
The darkness her body possessed
And the scars are still there in the mirror
Everyday that she gets herself dressed
Though the pain is miles and miles behind her
And the fear is now a docile beast
If you ask her why she is still running
She’ll tell you it makes her complete

[Chorus:]
I run for hope
I run to feel
I run for the truth
For all that is real
I run for your mother your sister your wife
I run for you and me my friend I run for life

Jean knows that it isn’t just her going through cancer treatment and dealing with the side effects. It is her family, too. They are all there to support her, but they have their own struggles, too.

Last time when we did this, Dad came down for a chemo, and he said, the hardest thing about this is I can’t take this away from you.

 John Hanna: It’s overwhelming. Especially since the male has the tendency to fix everything and when you can’t fix something, it is a total level of frustration.

Arlene Hanna: It is hard for me to know that it has come back. There is anger. Why can’t it be me? Why can’t I bring that to me? When I see her strength, I think “She is my role model.” And I see other people who are impacted by her. We’re going to keep her.

Joe Davis, Jean’s husband: This time it’s…it’s more real. The first time it was kind of surreal. I wasn’t as concerned, I wasn’t as worried about it the first time. The first time it didn’t upset me that much. I knew it was going to be okay. I never once thought she wouldn’t survive and that Juliana wouldn’t survive. Maybe it was because there was more to deal with than just cancer. I didn’t cry the first time. I knew it was going to be OK.

Hanna: This time I understand what’s going on and what can happen. Last time I didn’t really understand…didn’t really know. It freaks me out a little more. Something could go wrong. My friends try to tell me they understand, but they really don’t. My friend’s grandmother has been going through this for four years and we talk about it.

 Juliana: I see a great a mom who does everything for me. It makes me not worry because I know she is strong and can fight it. That she can make it through all of this; through all the medicine. I understand she needs to lie in bed sometimes. I’m not worried.

This is the fourth in the series of blogs for Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Jean Hanna Davis has given me access to each of her chemotherapy treatments while she works to rid her body of cancer for a second time.

Faith will be the topic for the next post, the final one in the series.

Previous posts are:

• Telling stories that need to be told
• Talking about cancer
• Breast Cancer: Living Out Loud
• I’m not sick, I just have cancer

You can see the entire series on the Breast Cancer Page in the non-fiction section of my website.

This series is dedicated to Jean and her family, along with all the women who have fought breast cancer—patients and families alike. Follow this link to find out more about Breast Cancer Awareness Month. It is a clearing house of information with links and connections to many of the major players in the fight against breast cancer..

For Jean Hanna Davis, cancer is something going on in her body, but it isn’t who she is. She refuses to let it define her or slow her down; even on the days when she should probably ease up a bit.

Cancer is becoming more and more common. You have to take chemo and that is making you sick. When the cancer is over, it is over. It is not going to stay with me forever. Even if I get nine good years and one down year with it, those are still pretty good odds. They said my hair will thin, but probably won’t fall out this time. It doesn’t bother me to be shorn though. That power is in taking control of your situation. For me it has always been the positive spin on it.

I really want people to know that cancer is not, in many cases, a death sentence. Even the chemo as you’re going through it, it’s not fun, but I’ve always said my chemo days are my spa days. They take care of me. That’s been the hardest part for me; letting other people take care of me.

My negative things are very much attached to a specific thing. They aren’t attached to the cancer. It has been with me at least 10 years that we know of. Cancer is just cells that are moving too fast. Ultimately, your body has a weird growth in it. I’m not sick, I just have cancer.

I took the approach of, the cancer is back, and it is just in my bone. It is not in my liver, my kidneys; it is just in the bone. Yes, cancer is bad, but mine is not bad. Here are some of the things you are going to have to do (talking to her family). I was pretty business-like about it. The kids have been very good. It has gotten harder. The more of these treatments I do, the harder it becomes because I’m tired all the time. Well, today is mommy’s chemo day. They know this already. My kids have to deal with it. Juliana will poke her head in and say Mommy are you OK? She will bring me a glass of ice water and say I hope you are feeling OK.

Juliana is mad because my hair isn’t falling out. Every so often she walks by and grabs my hair. She is mad because she wants to shave her head. We are doing a fundraiser in October and we will shave our heads for that in support of Breast Cancer Awareness Month. (Rather than a full shave, they both cut their hair down to about one inch.)

In the early days, when I used to go listen to Jean play guitar in the bars around Charleston, I probably annoyed her by frequently requesting one song: Girls With Guitars. The song tells the story of a young woman who learns to play guitar and discovers her calling in life. She wants to entertain and make people dance, smile and have fun. The song was written by Mary Chapin Carpenter, but the most popular version of the song is performed by Wynona. In my mind, though, that girl is Jean.

So, it was appropriate that, on the wall outside the outpatient hospital room she was assigned to, for her first round of chemotherapy, was a painting of a girl holding a guitar.

The chemo shouldn’t create neuropathy in my hands this time so there shouldn’t be any issues with playing my guitar. I haven’t played much in the last month, but that is because of the scars from the mastectomy.

This weekend, October 19, Jean is playing a breast cancer benefit in Princeton, West Virginia called the: 2^nd Annual Ta-Ta Extroidinah. All proceeds benefit the Susan G. Komen Foundation. Tickets are $20 at the door.

A friend said he was going to ask me to play, but he wasn’t sure if he should when he heard about my diagnosis. I said sure. I want to play it.

After all, she isn’t sick, she just has cancer. And she plans to fight it all the way.

This is the third of a series of blogs for Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Jean Hanna Davis has given me access to each of her chemotherapy treatments while she works to rid her body of cancer for a second time.

Family will be the topic for the next post. The final post topic in the series will be:

• Faith 

Previous posts are:

• Telling stories that need to be told
• Talking about cancer
• Living Out Loud

You can see the entire series on the Breast Cancer Page in the non-fiction section of my website.

This series is dedicated to Jean and her family, along with all the women who have fought breast cancer—patients and families alike. Follow this link to find out more about Breast Cancer Awareness Month. It is a clearing house of information with links and connections to many of the major players in the fight against breast cancer..