Each October, HealthLinks highlights courageous breast cancer patients. Over the years, we’ve shared laughter, tears, successes and losses. This issue showcases Charleston resident Cindy Booth Hines, who is well past the anxiety-inducing “five-year mark.” She is a reminder to the newly diagnosed that while cancer is a road filled with uncertainty, there are those who thrive. On the other side of diagnosis and treatment, survivors like Hines successfully put their cancer experience squarely in the rearview mirror.
Cindy Booth Hines
“I consider Aug. 4, 2009, my re-birthday,” said Hines during a recent interview.
In 2009, at 46, Hines missed her annual exam by a scant six months and wasn’t particularly concerned. With no history of breast cancer in her family nor any symptoms, scheduling simply slipped the mind of the busy mom of two “tweens.”
When Hines did make it to her appointment, she was shocked to discover that she had a growth deep in her left breast that warranted an MRI-guided biopsy. It was scheduled for Aug. 3, but there was a complication.
“August third happened to be the same day that I was scheduled to take my husband, Sam, and our son, Jeb, to the airport,” Hines said. She remembered the conundrum of deciding whether to tell her family about the looming possibility of a serious health issue before seeing them off for their long-planned trip to South Africa.
Hines did what most mothers and wives in her position would do. She kept quiet.
“Look, at that point, there was nothing definitive. If I’d told them, they would’ve insisted on staying home. I didn’t want that,” Hines said.
Immediately after waving bon voyage to “the boys,” Hines and her daughter, Liz, went directly to her biopsy; one of Hines’ many supportive friends met them in the lobby.
The next day, Aug. 4, she received her test results via phone while driving the same route she was driving during our interview—up I-95 to Virginia to visit her parents.
“Invasive Ductal Carcinoma, ER+ PR+ HER2- ,” Hines recalled.
Pulling over, she phoned her parents. They drove to meet her, and all returned to Charleston together to await Sam and Jeb’s return.
As with many – though sadly, not all cancer diagnoses, there is a litany of choices to make. Who do you tell? When should you tell? Surgery? Chemo? Radiation? All three? None?
In Hines’ case, she was given the option of a trial that included chemo, but after learning that her growth was small, that her cancer wasn’t genetic, that the growth rate was roughly 3 percent and she was given clear margins with no lymph node involvement after surgery, she eschewed chemo and chose radiation alone.
“As the mother of two young kids and the teacher of first graders, I just didn’t want to deal with or explain the hair loss. I didn’t want them worrying over it,” Hines said. “I knew other people who’d managed that successfully, but I didn’t want it on my plate.”
Throughout radiation, Hines continued to show up for her students each day, supported by colleagues who would take over her classroom at 3:45 p.m. so that she could zip down to her treatment.
For Hines, the early days of her journey were marked with a blur of calm and concern.
“I think that because I had a 12-year-old daughter and a 14-year-old son to worry about, I remained pretty even-keeled,” she said. “I worried about my husband, too.”
Worrying about others before themselves is a pattern often repeated in Fearless stories.
Hines leaned into her faith as well.
“Psalm 121 was on repeat in my mind,” said Hines. “I lift my eyes to the hills – where does my help come from…”
“Oh! And so was Miley Cyrus’ ‘The Climb,’” Hines laughed.
“You have to remember, I was the mother of youngsters, so, you know, we were listening to that kind of music at the time.”
“Both Psalm 121 and ‘The Climb’ helped me look beyond my current situation and into the future. I knew I was being supported by the Lord, who was watching over me, protecting me and giving me what I needed to stay strong,” continued Hines.
“It’s funny. My son was with some friends last Friday night when one of them started playing that song on her guitar. Jeb said, ‘I got real quiet, remembering that was your song, the song that kept you going through your cancer treatment,’ and it made my heart swell,” Hines quietly said.
She humbly stated that she didn’t really have any advice for newly diagnosed patients other than recognizing that they were in a tough place and, unless they were in crisis mode, to not allow cancer to dictate their lives.
“Someone older than me said that they’d kept their sense of humor about it, that I couldn’t afford to let it dictate my life,” Hines said. “And that I had to just keep living.”
It’s advice Hines took to heart. Traveling, attending Taylor Swift concerts with her daughter and basking in the happy glow of her family and her faith, Hines just kept and still keeps on living.
Not long after our interview concluded, I received a text from Hines. “The Climb” started to play right after we hung up.
She wasn’t kidding.
“Keep on moving, keep climbing. Keep the faith baby. It’s all about the climb. Keep your faith.”
By Amy Gesell
