Cathy Osmundson

When Cathy Osmundson's ovarian cancer was diagnosed — again — in November 2001, her local physcians said they had no experience with a third occurrence of the disease and referred her to Mayo Clinic. "When I first got there, and met Dr. Wilson, I was instantly impressed," she recalls. "I felt trust and told him this was my last hope." As it turned out, Mayo became her "last hope" again in December 2002 and February 2005.

Cathy was sure about her own plan for herself and her family. She was six years into her 10-year plan to earn a bachelor's degree in nursing when she began her journey on what she calls "the road less traveled." A single mother of four children, Cathy had worked as a licensed practical nurse while taking night classes. She was accepted into Minnesota State University's nursing school in the fall of 1996.

Six weeks into her first semester, she was diagnosed with stage 3 ovarian cancer. The surgeon, who had planned a hysterectomy because her symptoms suggested endometriosis, discovered the cancer during surgery. Cathy says of getting the news, "I can still hear those words like it was yesterday." That doctor probably still remembers her response: "I can't quit. I have four kids to raise, and I need to finish college."

Eleven years and four recurrences of cancer (with surgery and chemotherapy) later, her children are young adults: 18-year-old twin sons, a 21-year-old daughter, and a 26-year-old son. Cathy received her Bachelor of Science in Nursing, cum laude, in December 2005.

On the way to her long-sought BSN, Cathy made use of her experiences in some of the papers she wrote for her classes. For a sociology paper on "How Cancer Affects Families," she interviewed friends, acquaintances, people who had lost someone to cancer, her own children, and her mother, who is a breast cancer survivor. She found that the research helped her to come to terms with her own feelings. She wrote, "I don't let cancer control my thoughts and decisions, yet know it as a reminder of where I've been and . . . where I'm going."

One place she goes regularly is on the road, on her beloved Harley-Davidson motorcycle. "My Harley is my therapy," she says. "There is nothing like a little wind in my face to make me appreciate being alive." Among the headwear for what she calls "the bald, chemo look" was her Harley bandana. Cathy promised her son she wouldn't wear it to his wedding, though. For that occasion, she chose a ladylike wig.

She also goes to Mayo Clinic every three or four months for regular follow-up care. That is a shorter trip now that she has put her Blue Earth, Minn., home on the market and moved to Rochester to work as site manager for a migrant health program.

In a story about the local "Relay for Life," the Faribault County Register commented on Cathy's participation in the event: "If cancer was a boxing match, the referee would have called a halt to the action after Osmundson toppled the disease for the fourth time in nine years." In February 2005, however, a follow-up CT scan revealed a return of the cancer. The August 2005 Register story went on to state that the "mother of four has again surrendered her blond locks to chemotherapy regimens that continue to this day."

She maintains a sense of humor about the hair loss. These days, when someone compliments her pretty hair, she tells them "It's a very expensive hair treatment, and I wouldn't recommend it." In December 2005, just before her graduation from nursing school, she was able to stop wearing a bandana, and she gave up the baseball cap that announces "Chemo Sucks."

Womeninc, a magazine for women in South Central Minnesota and North Central Iowa, chose Cathy for a 2006 Survivor Award, "an award exemplifying the strength of the woman's mind, soul and body."

When the Mayo team physicians tell her she is one of the lucky ones, Cathy isn't so sure that luck is the proper description. "I'm not willing to quit or give up. I'm not sure what God's plan for me is, but I'm still here," she says, adding, "It's the knowledge and skill of the doctors that make me lucky."