2025 Western Pennsylvania Color Walk

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• Approximately 31% of early stage breast cancer survivors will have a recurrence as metastatic disease
• Metastases can occur as early as several months to 25+ years after treatment
• 685,000 people a year die from metastatic breast cancer globally
• Only 22% of U.S. MBC patients live longer than 5 years, and only 11% of live longer than 10 years
• There is NO CURE for MBC

Mary LaBella Mullen

Mary was diagnosed de novo stage IV in 2011, and is currently being treated with Xeloda and Herceptin. This is her fourth line of treatment, and she has also participated in a clinical trial.

Mary, now 61, lives in Munhall, PA; her son, Patrick, and his wife Kacie live in Denver, Colorado. Family and friends are among Mary’s favorite things in life, along with sunny beaches, finding the good in everything, and enjoying every day, no matter how hard it might be.

Mary says, “I don’t expect people to understand all I go through. I don’t worry about them saying the wrong things; most of the time, I don’t even know what to say. Everyone has their something, no matter how big or small, going on in their life. What I do know is that I’m loved, and that no matter what happens, I have an army of people marching along side of me, and I don’t take that for granted. I fight for those that love me the most, not for me, because there’s been times when I think of saying enough is enough. I have met so many amazing people on this journey, some here and some not, and I’ve learned so much from each of them. My destiny is known, but isn’t all of ours? It’s a matter of luck and when that will run out. I feel lucky every day despite this disease, and while it’s changed me, I value each day more than ever and take nothing for granted. Kind of cliché, but there’s a difference between thinking it, saying it and living it. I do my best to live it.”

Shannan Mitchell (written with love by her sister, Deb Lopata)

Shannan is 53 and was diagnosed with Metastatic Poorly Differentiated Adenocarcinoma on July 15, 2022. This was her third cancer diagnosis, after having been treated for breast cancer in 2015, then triple negative invasive ductal carcinoma in 2021, with treatment including a double mastectomy. She began treatment for her most recent diagnosis in September, 2022.

Shannan is the eighth of nine children born to Tom and Dolores Mitchell. Although two of her older brothers have passed away, she is surrounded by the love and concern of the rest of her siblings who would gladly do anything to help her with the challenges she faces. Shannan, herself, has never been one to step away from a challenge, not as a 20+ years employee of the Pennsylvania Department of Corrections, not as a baby sister to a rowdy bunch of siblings, and not as someone coping with Stage IV Metastatic Breast Cancer! She is unwaveringly strong and determined. She is the first person to volunteer when it comes time to plan a party, cook for a crowd, or assist in picking up a myriad of nieces and nephews from school, daycare, or sports activities. No task is beyond her, and she makes it all look easy. Her manner is helpful and gracious. The beach is her vacation destination of choice, but she is happy anywhere her family and friends are gathering.

Shannan says that her life goals remain the same as always...to live strong (working with her personal trainer, Grant) and happy, surrounded by the love of her family and friends. Her immediate goal is to complete her current treatment in time to travel to Austria in August to attend the ordination into the priesthood of an exchange student she sponsored when he was in high school. When talking about any advice she may have for others facing similar health obstacles, she advises that it is important to be open and trusting with your practitioners and to resist the temptation to consult Dr. Google!

My name is Tammy, and I live in Waynesburg, PA. I lost my husband Michael of over 30 years of marriage in April of 2024 to kidney failure. We are blessed to have raised our amazing son, Gavin who currently lives in Weirton, WV with his wife Lauren.

My breast cancer story began years ago back in 2007. I was diagnosed with Invasive Lobular carcinoma (stage 2b, ER+ & PR+) a few weeks before I turned 40. I had 6 aggressive chemo treatments, double mastectomy, surgery to remove my ovaries and was on an estrogen blocker (Exemestane) for 15 years. I thought my cancer journey was behind me. At the age of 55, in June of 2022, I had an unrelated CT scan that showed I had numerous lesions on my bones. On July 13, 2022, a biopsy confirmed that I had metastatic breast cancer (MBC) in my bones and that it flip-flopped to Triple Negative. To say I was in shock would be an understatement. I have been taking Xeloda chemo pills since being diagnosed in 2022 as well as Zometa infusion treatments every 3 months and have been stable. Triple Negative breast cancer (TNBC) is aggressive so I am very thankful for being stable, but I also know that it can change at any time. Before being diagnosed with MBC, I had no idea that there wasn't a cure, nor did I know that treatment options were limited for stage 4. This is definitely heartbreaking for all of us battling this disease. This is why we need more research for stage 4 so that we can find more treatment options to help live longer, healthier lives.

I can tell you that although I am diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer, I will not let it define me. I may have cancer, but it doesn't have me. Don't get me wrong, there are days when I have felt sorry for myself and worry about the future and temporarily go to a dark place, but I don't let myself stay there. I will never give up on winning this battle and I have an excellent support system with family and friends, especially my sisters and son. I have goals that included dancing with my son on his wedding day and I reached that goal on July 27, 2024, and the next goal is to hold a grandbaby one day. I worked for 32 years for the Commonwealth of PA; Department of Corrections and retired in late October of 2022. I referred to my retirement as "Pivoting with a Purpose". I wanted to focus on me and my treatment and to spend time doing things that make me happy. Those things are spending time with the people I love, taking trips to the beach and just enjoying every day as much as possible.

Kate Crawford

Kate lives south of Pittsburgh, PA with her husband Steve, twin daughters, and son. Kate shares openly about her struggles with life & motherhood - from grieving the loss of her first daughter, to facing a terminal diagnosis of stage IV breast cancer at 28 and all the fun and chaotic mommy moments in between. Her Blog, the “Mommy Bucket List”, she, her kids, and husband work on checking things off the list which has been published across the country in various news outlets.

Kate has a genetic mutation that causes a variety of cancers, known as Li-Fraumeni Syndrome. She has been in treatment for 10 years and has had over 155 treatments, numerous surgeries, and complications. She suffers from cardiomyopathy as a resulting her extensive treatment. Kate enjoy volunteering for numerous advocacy campaigns and is the co-founder of the non-profit, Project Sweet Peas.

Pamela Joy Hogue

Pamela Hogue was diagnosed de novo stage IV at just 28 years old.

Now 36, Pamela lives in Washington, PA, with her dog, Ariel, and enjoys spending time with her family, friends, and Fiancé. Fall is her favorite time of year, with its crisp air, cool weather, and comfy clothes. Pamela loves Christmastime and sweet-smelling candles, conversations over a good latte, and long hugs.

Pamela says, “Live every day with purpose and gratitude. You don’t have to backpack through Europe or jump off the Empire State Building; it can be as simple as starting every morning thankful for another day in a healthy body, hugging your kids tightly and being grateful you have them, or making sure your friends know how much you love them and spending time together. All of these things are priceless, and we never know when we don’t get another chance to do them.”

Cara Snyder

Hi! My name is Cara and I was diagnosed in July of 2018 with triple negative breast cancer while I was pregnant with our second son. I started chemo when he was 3 weeks old. Followed by breast surgery and 25 breast radiations. A few days before his 1st birthday, I lost the use of my left leg. We discovered a 3.5 cm brain tumor along my motor cortex. Surgery was too risky, so we had to shrink the tumor first. Since then, I have done three types of brain radiation; including whole brain and had two craniotomies. The second leaving me severely left side impaired. In July of 2022, I received a service dog to help with my mobility. His name is Oreo.

I currently have mets in my brain (in that same spot, now close to 5cm but responding to treatment!), liver, and micro nodules in the lung. I just started a new infusion after many others have failed me. This is why we need more research and targeted treatments, as well as precision medicine.

I love hanging out with my two young sons, my husband, our family and our friends. We spend alot of time in our backyard or at local parks. We love playing ball and frisbee with Oreo. Both boys are involved with sports and extracurricular activities. I enjoy attending their events when they are accessible. We also love playing pretend, building with blocks and magnetic tiles and doing jigsaw puzzles. We also love reading and drawing together. We enjoy to travel to Lake Erie and can't wait for our next trip.

I love crystals, flowers, plants, the moon and the stars. I also like getting lost in writing poetry. My husband and I love trying new plant-based dishes and new restaurants.

In order to give back to the breast cancer community, I have been an ambassador for the @tnbcfoundation, I volunteer as President of the @412Thrive board, publicly share my story with many non-profit organizations, have been published in @Wildfire_BC_Magazine and advocate with many support groups.

Please think before you pink and make sure you are directly helping your local BC community, family cancer support center or funding research.

Sherry Ferreira

In April of 2022 I was prepping for my third try at breast reconstruction (after 2 failed attempts). My doctor ordered scans just to be safe. I saw the results on my app before the doctor called.

"Uptake suggestive for metastatic disease to the bone."

No surgery. I was stage 4. I started treatment. I was sad and upset. I felt like my life was going to end immediately and every bad thing went through my mind. I tried to push my fiancée and my family away. I just didn't want to be a burden to them. I didn't want them to have to watch me die.

But month after month my tumor markers went down. Everyone said you can't rely on them, but they did give me hope. I realized that I didn’t feel sick. I felt fine. I started doing my normal things. Besides some fatigue and some aches, I felt like my normal self. I started to LIVE life. I decided to be positive, pray, and just live whatever life God gave me. I got married. We bought a beautiful house. I'm planning on opening my own business soon. I am doing everything I would have done without cancer.

My scans 1 year later are stable. No new growth. The cancer I have is smaller than it was. Stage 4 is NOT a death sentence. It doesn't mean life is over. I feel great. I have fun. I stay positive and try to make everyone smile. Cancer is such a small part of my life and I refuse to allow it to define me! Life isn't over yet!

Sue Douglas

In March 2021 my world turned upside down. I woke one night with an ache in my breast and was able to find a large lump. My doctor thought it was just a cyst and sent me for an ultrasound and mammogram. My mammogram the year before was completely clear, including the 3D version. The ultrasound was first, and I was aware that the technician was not just focusing on the large lump that I was able to feel but that she was also moving the wand into my armpit area. She wasn’t saying anything until she said “This is not a cyst. I’m going to get the doctor.” Left alone in the exam room, laying on my side, my mind was a whirlwind. The doctor came in, picked up the wand and followed the same pattern of exam as the technician. I started to shake inside. She told me that we needed to get a couple of biopsies, of the mass and surrounding lymph nodes. I knew enough that if they were looking at lymph nodes then whatever this was had metastasized. I lay there, quietly crying to myself, feeling blood trickle down my back from the biopsy and wondering if I was going to be able to see my youngest son graduate.

Fast forward a week, checking my electronic medical chart and seeing the biopsy results “invasive ductal carcinoma.” My husband sitting by my side, grabbed my hand and we started crying together. I had the results before the doctor.

It was only another two weeks of whirlwind appointments, tests, placing a port in my chest, and then the news that the cancer was not only in my breast but also my right femur, my right hip, my tail bone and two other places in my pelvic bone. When breast cancer is metastasized from the very beginning it is called “De Novo.” Only 6-11% of women diagnosed with breast cancer are De Novo. My husband told me that I need to stop being an over-achiever.

I had worked for 17 years in an elementary school as a school counselor. I knew that with the upcoming treatments I would not be able to continue to work. First would be the fatigue but more importantly would be my lack of an immune system. I love working with children, but you can catch everything that they do. From March 15^th to August 1^st became weekly appointments, blood tests, bone scans, CT scans, retiring early, deciding to sell out house and move to the Ligonier area where a very generous family member offered us a free house to live in.

I had no idea what the future would hold. Statistics aren’t good with MBC. I never really questioned the “why me” or even how’d I get this. It doesn’t run in the family; genetic testing came back negative for over 30 different types of cancer. Can I accept that it is just a fluke? To see me you wouldn’t know that I had cancer. I had no pain. Doctors with MBC tend to choose palliative care. Let’s throw some meds at it and see what happens. Don’t do surgery, don’t do traditional chemotherapy. I was successful for 2 years on oral medications, with a few little tweaks, then the pain began. It took 11 radiation sessions, starting traditional chemotherapy, trying a variety of heavy-dutypain medications to get me to the point I am today. I still have pain at times, I am very weak and spend the majority of my time sitting around or lying in bed. My mind is foggy from the chemo and the pain medication, but I AM HERE. I don’t feel the need to celebrate my birthday anymore but instead my “Cancerversary.” For my first, I gave myself the gift of a professional photography session, complete with make-up and hairstyling. I wanted at least one good photograph of myself for both my family and for me! I found a wonderful photographer, Tara Hassler. Because of Tara I have over 20 beautiful portraits and had the best time doing it!!

On a hot day in August, bald and in a wheelchair, I (will see) saw my youngest accept his Master of Physician Assistant Studies from Duquesne University. (Yes, I have free medical advice!)

Your goals change when your life is turned upside down and inside out. My husband retired early to take care of me. I’ve become closer with my siblings; my children are around more. They are so supportive and take great care of me. You still make plans, but I tend to keep them in a 6-month window. My husband and I have taken a couple Caribbean vacations and were going to renew our vows in Jamaica in the spring with all our kids present. You don’t worry so much about the day to day worries anymore. You worry about how many pain pills are left, did I get my weekly blood test done. I can’t plan anything for the day or two after my chemo treatments. Life becomes smaller but sweeter. I have no idea how much time I have until this sneaky disease changes itself and tries to get me another way. Until then I greet each day as it comes, trying to make the best of it.

Shannon Kiro

Hi, my name is Shannon, and I feel as if a big part of my life is defined by my Stage IV metastasized Breast Cancer.

I was diagnosed denovo (means that I was stage IV at diagnoses) in November 2016.

I am widowed and have three kids. My children today are 22, 13, and 10 years old.

I was 34 years old when diagnosed. My now 10 year old son, who was 4 years old at the time, is Autistic, and he had accidentally kicked me in the chest during a meltdown, and it had really hurt. After a few days, it still hurt, and I thought I had a blood bubble in my chest from the kick, so I let it go a little longer. After two weeks it was still there, so I went to the doctor. They sent me to the OBGYN, and they sent me to get a mammogram. They did not think it was just a bruise, and said it was probably a cyst because I was young.

After the mammogram, on the same day, they had me go in for some biopsies because they did not only see one spot, they saw four spots. By this point I am just trying to stay calm because they were skirting the word cancer. They biopsied all spots with help from an ultrasound. Approximately five days later I get a call that they want me to come discuss the results, and could I come in right away. I knew right then that it was cancer, why would they do that if it wasn't. I go in, and it is a cry fest with my OBGYN, it is cancer. She referred me to the Forbes Cancer Institute, which I have been going to ever since.

They ordered more tests, more scans, everything is moving so fast now, and I feel like I am in a whirlwind. Before this, I had never really had any health problems, no machine tests, no scans, no surgeries, no daily medications. I found out that I am a little claustrophobic and can not handle the MRI machine too well. After every scan I received another phone call about another spot on it that meant a tumor. After all scans, I have tumors in my left chest, lymph nodes, my lungs, in my spine, and in my arm bone.

I have never cried so much in my life. I felt like I was dying already and kept thinking about my kids and if I would see them grow up, or if I will see any grand babies. I still do worry! I did live to see my first grandchild, Salem, which I'm so freaking happy about! She's 8 months old now!

I have had progression of my cancer, in my clavicle, chest wall, and some have grown a little. Right now I am on my second line of treatments, though I don't know if that will be changing soon because of the progression. Right now I get infusions every three weeks and if my heart can not handle the stress anymore, I have gone on breaks from it. I hope and pray that it will work the rest of my days, whether that be months or years!

Every cancer is different and it can affect each person in a different way. We need more research done on stage IV cancer, so that it can hopefully one day be as simple as a blood test that will determine treatment that will save our lives!

I need to be here for my family!

Chris Needles

My name is Chris Needles. I was originally diagnosed as Stage 3 TNBC in October 2004 at the age of 40. I did my "standard of care" treatments of chemotherapy (Adriomycin, Cytoxan and Taxotere) and radiation (35 treatments) and then resumed my active life of wife and mom of 4 (they were 14, 12, 12 and 8 then).

In October 2007, my oncologist wanted to schedule a breast MRI instead of a mammogram so he could see what the difference in view showed. The MRI showed a shadow in my lung.

With that indication, my oncologist did some additional tests. There was metastatic breast cancer in my lung and chest wall lymph nodes. My oncologist wanted to use Avastin with my chemotherapy, and needed a baseline brain MRI. That MRI indicated a 3cm tumor in my brain.

I met with a neuro-oncologist the next week and had the tumor surgically removed a day after that meeting. I did have a one-time gamma knife treatment to the brain site in January. My oncologist was very pro-active in planning my treatments and had my tumor sent out and treated with 16 different drugs to find what would be effective. Without that testing, I would have been given the first and second drugs, but neither worked on my tumor!

I started with drugs 3 and 4 (Carboplatin and Abraxane) along with Avastin. Unfortunately I had an allergic reaction to the Carboplatin, so my future treatments excluded that. I received Abraxane and Avastin on weeks 1 and 3, and Abraxane on week 2 ... week 4 off for 11 months. I then had Avastin every other week for another 18 months.

Since June 2010, I have had no treatments.

I've seen all 4 of my children graduate high school and college, 2 children have gotten married, one daughter has 3 beautiful daughters, and one son/daughter-in-law are new parents to my first grandson.

Christine Clark

These things are never easy or fun to start, so I guess what better place to start than with a quick introduction. My name is Christine Clark, I am an actor, model and writer in the Pittsburgh area, but many know me by my stage name, Christine Starkey. I’ve had many monumental years in my short life, but 2016 ended up being one that changed my life forever. On April 13, 2016, I went in for a mammogram and biopsy concerning a lump in my right breast. The next day, I received a call that no one ever wants, or should have to receive. The test results came back and I was told that I had the dreaded C word, in this case, breast cancer. It was later discovered that I had the BRCA2 mutant gene. Now what is that you might ask? It’s a person who inherits certain changes in a BRCA2 gene and has a higher risk of getting cancer. Because my mother (who unknowingly carried the gene) was in her 60s and her parents, who lived to be in their 80s and 90s, also never had any cancer related problems, this news came as a total shock to everyone. Despite being young, healthy and fit, cancer did not care. Goodnight innocence, welcome cold hard reality.

At the age of 29, when I should be comfortably saying good bye to my youth, I endured 24 weeks of two types of chemotherapy, a bilateral double mastectomy with lymph node dissection, then followed by 6 weeks of radiation. When I turned 30-years old in early 2017, I was in NED, also known as, no evidence of disease. I may have ringed the brass bell to ring in and celebrate the end of these difficult cancer chapters in my life, but there were still many pages ahead in my cancer journey. From that point on until late 2022 I took Tamoxifen, a selective estrogen receptor modulator, daily to reduce the risk of my early-stage breast cancer from making a comeback. I was meant to be on my hormonal therapy pill for a total of 10 years, but, as un-luck would have it, by mid-2022 I started to experience shortness of breath doing ordinary, non strenuous activities and pain in my chest and back. On December 5, 2022, after a multitude of tests, pokes and prods; I was diagnosed with stage IV metastatic breast cancer at only 35-years old. After just six years since my original cancer had been diagnosed, it had now spread to my liver, lymph nodes, lungs and is primarily in a few bones in my spine. Most survivors mark the 5-year “cancerversary” as a benchmark for when you could say, “My chances of having cancer return is no longer likely.” Instead of marking a milestone in my cancer journey, I was marking the end of one journey and beginning another. Almost overnight, my entire life changed, but in a familiar but unwelcome way. A sequel, where my cancer can be treated but remain incurable. Because as sequels go, everything ups the ante and the body count is likely higher.

My mind is tired, but my body is even more, and not just because it’s a side effect of my current cancer treatments. Depression and anxiety have been an ever present threat to me since childhood. Marriage, divorce and unresolved trauma festered in my young adult years. I welcomed adulthood along with cancer, as well as major depressive disorder, generalized anxiety disorder and post-traumatic stress disorder from processing both my early cancer treatments and past traumas. I am entering early middle age with metastatic breast cancer feeling extremely scared, anxious, and wounded. My life expectancy since my metastatic diagnosis is only five years and unless it’s a prison sentence, five years is never a long time! My cancer journey will kill me, whether or not I reach middle age or have time to heal my mental health challenges. How many opportunities will I have to act on stage and screen? Will I ever feel comfortable and confident in my body to model again? How many more stories do I have to write? When do I get to live? When do I get a break? I am so very tired!

For Whom the bell tolls? The now-widespread tradition of ringing the brass bell upon completion of chemotherapy, radiation, or cancer related surgery was introduced in 1996 at MD Anderson when U.S. Navy Rear Admiral Irve Le Moyne, a patient with head and neck cancer, installed a brass bell at the main campus Radiation Treatment Center. A sign by the bell quotes Irve Le Moyne saying, “…Its toll to clearly say, / My treatment’s done / This course is run / And I am on my way!” For Whom the bell tolls? For me, time marches on. As tired as I am, my course isn’t run yet and my treatments continue, but I am still on my way. I’m still coping and processing my new diagnosis, but slowly learning how to accept what’s happened and work on how to create what will be the rest of my life in this new reality. Only time can help with regaining some feeling of normalcy, and I hope eventually I can see things settle down and move forward. I am very fortunate to have good communication and trust with my medical team that I’ve had over the years, as well as support through my local cancer communities in Pittsburgh. It’s truly amazing the amount of friends, family and total strangers that have come to my aid to help me feel safe and loved. I know there will be days ahead that I’ll be struggling and even more feeling discouraged, I may need to pay more attention to how I spend my time and energy than I did in the past to prioritize the things that matter most. I still hope to see that it is possible to find joy and live a full life with metastatic breast cancer. All any of us can truly do is live, the rest is just icing.

Lisa Szczepankowski