Highlighting Inspiring Women: She stands up to cancer

Throughout March, which is Women’s History Month, the North Iowa Times-Clayton County Register is again publishing a series of articles highlighting local women. Whether it’s through their careers, hobbies, volunteer efforts or unique personalities, these women have become an inspiration to others.

By Audrey Posten, Times-Register

Patty Mullarkey Fettkether said she’s always been a planner. 

The 39-year-old mom of two grew up in McGregor, graduating from MFL MarMac High School in 1999. After earning a bachelor’s degree in athletic training, and eventually a doctorate in physical therapy, she went to work in the Waterloo area. She lived there for around six years, getting married and having her first child. 

When daughter Evelyn was nearly two, the family decided city life wasn’t part of the plan anymore. They moved back to the area, where they could be closer to relatives, and Patty took a physical therapy position at the hospital in Prairie du Chien. That was six years ago, during which time she had her second child, Wesley.

Not long after the birth, Patty said she started experiencing some female issues. But her gynecologist chalked it up to the recent delivery, or even medication, so Patty didn’t give it another thought.

“I took the first opinion and said, ‘Don’t worry about it,’” she remarked.

Fast forward a year, and she was back at the doctor for a routine checkup.

“It was actually to have my moles looked at,” Patty recalled. 

There, she received news that wasn’t part of the plan.

“They found a lump. They said, ‘Did you notice this?’ I said, ‘No, I did not.’ They took me in for a mammogram, followed immediately by a biopsy,” Patty said. “It came back as breast cancer, which turned my whole life around.” 

“I was diagnosed at 38,” she added. “No real family history of cancer. No real symptoms. It came out of nowhere.”

Soon, scans revealed another curve ball.

“All of a sudden it went from you have breast cancer to you have stage four breast cancer. My world immediately stopped,” Patty said. “At that time, I was told, at stage four, they no longer treat to cure. They just try to keep you comfortable.” 

Patty’s thoughts immediately went to her young children. How do you tell them you might not be here much longer?

Amid that discussion, a co-worker encouraged her to seek a second opinion. Patty called Dr. Key at the Mayo Clinic in Prairie du Chien.

“He said, ‘You’re 38 years old, you have two young children, you’re not going to do this. We’re going to get you into Rochester,’” she shared. 

After a lot of convincing, Rochester finally accepted her. 

“Thank god they did,” said Patty. “When I walked in, you don’t just have an oncologist, but a team of 10 people fighting just for you. It went from we’re no longer going to call you stage four, but oligometastatic breast cancer. They said, ‘Yes, you have metastasized in one little spot in your back and we’re going to treat you like stage three. We’re going to go after it, try to kill it and give you as long a life as we possibly can.’ My whole outlook changed.”

Treatment started quickly, starting with chemotherapy. Patty said the second round was the hardest.

“Most people get hit hard when they still have an immune system, but I got hit second, so my immune system was gone,” she said. “I did many rounds of chemotherapy while working and taking care of the children. I ended up moving back in with my parents so I had an extra hand. It was just too exhausting.”

Patty said her kids handled the diagnosis resiliently.

“When I started losing my hair, I ordered Evelyn a fun blue wig and I ordered myself a rainbow wig, and we had fun with that,” she joked. “There’s been questions all the way through. I make sure they are always able to talk.”

Even as a medical professional, Patty admitted it was difficult for her to wrap her brain around the foreign terms. At every point, had sister-in-law Alicia Mullarkey come to appointments with a note pad. 

“Before we started, we’d write down all our questions, and we’d not leave until all those were answered,” Patty said.

She credited her oncologists and the other staff—both in Rochester and La Crosse—who explain everything in both layman’s and “huge” terms. 

“I learned a lot and how it works. It was very stressful—all that information,” she said. “I highly recommend—and this is different because of COVID—but I always had two different people beside me so we got different perspectives.”

Last winter, after finishing chemotherapy, Patty got to make vacation plans. The extended family visited Disney World—one of her lifelong goals.

“After my diagnosis, I said I didn’t care how we got there. I told my oncologist to pick a day I could leave,” she shared. “We’re trying to get as much stuff done because, with the prognosis, you’re originally told you don’t have a lot of time—they never give an exact date. Even though we’re fighting, that’s still always in the back of your head.”

After returning to Iowa, Patty had a double mastectomy in Rochester. By then, the COVID-19 pandemic had begun. She had to enter the building alone while her dad, Pat, waited in the parking lot. She was in and out the same day.

Patty had a simple mastectomy, without reconstruction, a move that’s encouraged for those who have already metastasized. Patty said implants can affect imaging, making any future spots harder to detect.

The mastectomy was followed with radiation in Rochester. Patty received a special version called proton, which she described as more precise. During that time, she stayed alone in a campground.

Patty said radiation was more difficult than the chemo treatments because she didn’t return home, where she could be distracted by her kids or her job. 

“I wanted to keep busy. I tried to keep my mind off things and tried to focus on the here and now and not what’s going on five years from now, which is not normal for me,” she said. “I did some journaling. I did a lot of reading. I hadn’t read in years.”

Because of COVID-19, Patty was off work from the middle of March. 

“I was immunocompromised and we didn’t know what was going to happen,” Patty said. “I have since returned to work full time. Now, I continue to get maintenance chemo every three weeks.”

According to Patty’s oncologist, this will continue until it no longer works. Patty admitted it’s difficult not having a “target” now.

“That was my big number one question when this was all done: now what? What happens when this doesn’t work?” she said. “[The oncologist] says there are options. That’s good to have in the back of my head: you’re not done yet.”

Reflecting back on her journey, Patty said she’s learned to savor the little moments.

“The cuddles at night are a lot more special than they used to be,” she remarked. “It’s cancer. It’s evil. You don’t know when your last moment is going to be your last moment.”

“I no longer plan,” she quipped. “I take it one day at a time.”

Patty stressed the importance of a strong support system. Since the diagnosis, she’s received support from countless family members, friends, community members and organizations. 

She said letting people help is part of the journey.

“Surround yourself with positive people who are in your corner. That’s the trick of getting through this, because there are going to be terrible days. There are going to be days you don’t want to get out of bed,” she said. “But then there are going to be days you feel OK and are like, ‘woo-hoo.’”

Most importantly, though, Patty said she’s had to stay positive. 

“I’m usually more of a half empty class type of person,” she stated, “but with this cancer, I never felt that at all. I always felt, ‘Let’s go get it.’” 

While it’s been a wild ride, she wants people to understand it’s not over.

“Some battles have been won, but the war is not over. It will never be over for me,” she said. “That’s something people without cancer don’t understand. Just because it’s not showing up in scans doesn’t mean it’s not hiding in the bushes. But I’m keeping a positive outlook.”