On Thursday, Sept. 25, the Marshfield Mail hosted its annual Breast Cancer Awareness conversation at Southern Charmed Boutique, an evening created in partnership with Hometown Supplements and Southern Charmed to honor local survivors and to talk candidly about the realities of breast cancer. Three local women, Teresa Meizler, Brenda Crawford, and Melanie Fraker, sat shoulder to shoulder and, with remarkable grace, traced their journeys from diagnosis through treatment and into the long, often overlooked season of recovery.
Their stories were different in timeline and treatment plans, but they braided together around the same themes. Early detection saves lives. The body and spirit both pay a price. The work of healing continues long after the bell rings and the last appointment is checked off the calendar.
“I never miss a mammogram”: Teresa’s story
Teresa Meizler has called Marshfield home for 15 years. She works for the electric co-op and has two adult daughters who, as she put it, are her greatest joys and fiercest protectors. In November 2023, she went in for her routine annual mammogram, something she has done faithfully since her early twenties. She was not worried. Over the years, she had several lumps biopsied, and every time the results were benign.
This time was different.
A call back led to ultrasound imaging and then a needle biopsy in early December. Teresa remembers reading the pathology notice that arrived by text, alone, in her car just after 4 p.m., outside her office. The result was ductal carcinoma in situ (DCIS), grade 3.
“I went back into the office without turning on the lights and looked it up,” she said. “I knew enough to know this was cancer. I called my best friend from fifth grade. She told me to pull over and call my doctor.”
A breast surgeon scheduled a lumpectomy in January 2024, and 20 rounds of radiation followed, finishing April 8. Teresa kept working, tried to protect her loved ones from worry, and delivered news to her mother and daughters by FaceTime so she could stay composed and spare them tears. The treatment left her exhausted. By mid course she found herself working mornings, then napping before the daily drive to her afternoon radiation appointment. The fatigue, she said, “was like a wall.”
In the quiet hours, she learned to accept help. Co-workers slipped a soda and small treats on her desk. Church friends added her to the prayer list only when she was ready. When people asked what they could do, Teresa had a simple answer.
“Tell the women in your life to get their mammograms.”
Today, Teresa remains on a regular follow up schedule. She is back to routines, but her view of time is different.
“I used to think, just let me live long enough to see my girls graduate and get married,” she said. “Now I want to meet my grandbabies, and watch them grow up.”
Her advice to anyone newly diagnosed is that you do not have to carry the whole future at once.
“One day at a time,” she said. “Sometimes one hour.”
“I found it by accident”: Brenda’s story
For Brenda Crawford, the discovery came between mammograms about five years ago, in the midst of the COVID 19 pandemic, when the isolation and infection worries weighed on every decision. She had been two months away from her annual screening when she absentmindedly rested a hand on her chest and felt something she instantly knew was not right.
“I was bad about not doing self exams,” she admitted. “I relied on the 3D mammogram. But this was fast growing. I found it by accident.”
A diagnostic mammogram and biopsy confirmed triple negative breast cancer, an aggressive subtype. She moved quickly, port placement, consultations, and then 16 rounds of chemotherapy every other week. Surgery followed, a lumpectomy with no lymph node involvement, and then 20 rounds of radiation.
Waiting for biopsy results was brutal.
“Talk about a total meltdown. Your whole life turns upside down.”
Under COVID precautions, every step felt more precarious, temperature checks, pre surgery testing, and strict timing. Contracting the virus could have delayed treatment.
“That was the most stressful part, knowing a positive test would interrupt the schedule.”
Complications added to the strain. Brenda experienced episodes of extremely rapid heart rhythm, which landed her in the ER three times before doctors ultimately performed a cardiac ablation.
Through it all, her husband, Billy, stood beside her, and her daughter-in-law Angela, who is a survivor herself, came over to teach practical things like how to wear a wig and what to expect as hair changed.
Radiation was the easiest part physically for Brenda. She tanned rather than burned, but the ritual of walking alone into the thick doored room each day and being watched by cameras was a mental hurdle.
“It is just you and the machine for about ten minutes,” she recalled. “You do it because you have to.”
Now in long term follow up, Brenda still calls herself a vigilant patient and a louder advocate.
Self exams matter.
Annual screenings matter.
“Do not wait,” she said. “And do not be afraid to ask survivors your questions… We will tell you what helped.”
Found through self-exam, "Mine felt like a piece of rice": Melanie’s story
Melanie Fraker had a clean mammogram in June 2024. By November, laid up with pneumonia and swollen glands, she reached over during a cough and felt a small, hard speck under her skin.
“It did not feel like the squishy lump they pass around on those teaching models in school,” she said. “Mine felt like a hard piece of rice, just under the skin.”
A diagnostic mammogram led to a biopsy, and on Dec. 17 she received the call, triple negative breast cancer. Further imaging revealed two areas, one of them invasive ductal carcinoma. It was aggressive. Doctors recommended surgery first. Given her dense breast tissue and the rapid growth, Melanie chose a bilateral mastectomy on Jan. 15. Lymph node sampling showed limited involvement, and her surgeon, Dr. Biggers, removed what was there.
Chemotherapy followed, four cycles of dose dense TC (docetaxel and cyclophosphamide) administered by IV every 21 days. During her second infusion she had a reaction, with throat swelling that forced a slow restart and hours of observation.
“I did not want the protocol to change,” she said. “I just wanted to finish and move forward.”
Because mastectomy removes breast tissue down to the chest wall, surgeons placed tissue expanders, rigid shells that are gradually filled with saline, to prepare for reconstruction. Melanie underwent her first reconstructive surgery on June 24. Like many women, she has faced complications since. The internal pockets that hold the reconstructed breasts have loosened and dropped, creating a concave area on her chest. She is scheduled for a revision on Oct. 28 to tighten the pockets and likely add fat grafting to restore contour.
Throughout, Melanie has remained frank about what often goes unspoken. After mastectomy, most women lose sensation across the chest. Drains are part of the early recovery. Numbness under the arm can linger.
Melanie also chose cold capping during chemo, wearing a refrigerated cap that chills the scalp to help freeze hair follicles. She still thinned, especially at the sides, but was thankful the cold capping helped enough to not need the wigs she purchased and kept on standby.
The chemotherapy did not end with the last infusion. In the months that followed, Melanie battled joint and bone pain, muscle deconditioning, and lingering cardiac palpitations that sent her to a cardiologist. Steroids and treatment related changes put 30 pounds on quickly. She has since worked to shed most of it, one careful walk at a time.
“I will not let this take me down,” she said. “Even when it hurts, you move.”
Her husband, Lyndall Fraker, has been her anchor.
“He left the decisions up to me, lumpectomy, single, double, holistic, whatever I chose, he would support,” she said. Faith also held her steady when anxiety pushed her toward late night internet spirals.
“Google is not your friend,” she said with a half smile. “Prayer was.”
The hard middle, care coordination, aftercare, and the quiet that follows
All three women said the most difficult stretch is not always the first. After surgery and chemo or radiation, after the bell and the hugs, the world expects you to be okay. Bodies are still healing, and the mind is only then catching up.
“You feel like part of a herd being moved along, new patients are coming in behind you,” Melanie said. “Nurse practitioners were great, but I wanted my three doctors to be talking to each other and to me. Post treatment, you can feel a little lost.”
They learned to self advocate. Keep every phone number, follow up on referrals, use patient portals, and if “someone will call you” does not happen, call them. They found community through church lists, survivor Facebook groups, and chance conversations in elevators.
Brenda said that during COVID, when immune suppression forced her to limit contact, the isolation was heavy.
“You could bring one person, but a positive test would derail the whole schedule,” she said. “That stress was constant.”
Hair changes were painful in a way that is hard to explain to anyone who has not sat in that chair.
Teresa said she watched an older woman in the waiting room tug a hood low to hide bare patches and felt a rush of recognition, little reminders of what people are carrying.
There were ordinary moments that stitched life back together, a friend dropping by with matching T shirts, a spontaneous late night ice cream run, a quick thrift store stop after radiation.
“You say yes more,” Teresa said. “You do not pass up sunshine.”
What helped, and what has not left
Each woman shared practical shifts she has made since treatment, such as swapping some plastics for glass, looking closely at cookware and utensils, and watching fabric choices for comfort and skin sensitivity. They were quick to say these are personal decisions rather than prescriptions.
The bigger takeaway is agency, choosing what helps you feel safer and healthier, and letting go of what you cannot control.
Physically, they still manage aftereffects, including fatigue that arrives without warning and joint stiffness, and for Brenda, a new attunement to her heart after the ablation. Emotionally, they have learned not to rush themselves.
“Give yourself grace,” Teresa said. “It is okay not to be immediately back at full speed.”
Early detection at every age
If there was one drumbeat across the evening, it was this. Screenings and self exams save lives. Teresa’s DCIS was found by a mammogram she refused to skip. Brenda’s tumor appeared between annual screens and was discovered by a self exam she had not been in the habit of doing. Melanie had a clear mammogram five months before she felt a tiny, rice like change that turned out to be aggressive cancer.
They want that message to reach younger women too. Breast cancer is being diagnosed in patients in their 20s and 30s, and family history is not a prerequisite. All three emphasized that men can get breast cancer as well.
For women who have had mastectomies, follow up looks different, often ultrasound and clinical exam rather than mammography. The principle is the same.
Know your baseline, and check regularly.
How to show up, beyond October
When friends asked what they could do, Teresa’s request was simple. Make your appointment, and remind someone you love. The survivors added that continued check ins after treatment ends matter because the quiet months can be the hardest.
Practical help matters, such as rides, meals, childcare, help with paperwork, or simply sitting together during an infusion.
Respect privacy while welcoming honesty, since some days survivors want to talk and other days a wave across the aisle is enough.
Connecting people helps, and if you know someone newly diagnosed, ask a survivor, with permission, if they will text or talk. The right message at 2 a.m. can steady a heart.
“One day, one hour”
As the evening drew to a close, the three women were asked to share a single piece of advice for anyone hearing the words, “you have breast cancer.”
Brenda said, “It is going to be okay. One step at a time. Do not try to understand the whole picture in one day.”
Teresa said, “Lean on your people. Protecting everyone else is a reflex, but let them protect you too.”
Melanie said, “Be your own advocate. Keep the numbers, make the calls, ask the questions, and when the dark thoughts come, reach for faith, for a friend, for light.”
It was an evening of endurance on full display. The truth of survivorship, the women made clear, is not that the story is over. It is that the story is ongoing, written in small brave choices, making the appointment, telling the truth, taking the nap, going for the ice cream, and saying yes to more of the life that is here, now.
If their journeys move you, they hope you will do one thing today. Schedule your mammogram, and encourage someone else to schedule theirs.
Then keep showing up, long after the pink ribbons come down.
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