Thinking victory prevailed, she thought life would once again return to normal. She was unprepared for what came next.
"If my wife had the slightest chance of one cell still floating around in there, I would insist she have chemo," the oncologist told her.
In December 2000, she began the first of four aggressively invasive treatments. Jacobson’s hair was continuously falling out, until there was none.
"Losing my hair was odd, but a small sacrifice for being granted life," said Jacobson.
Taking her prescribed medication, tamoxifen, she continued with her regular oncology appointments for the next three years.
In the course of her May 2004 appointment, her lab results came back unusual. Jacobson's medication was then changed to femara. On June 1st, she was sent to Rochester for further testing.
"I do not believe her cancer has metastasized," the pathologist argued with her oncologist.
Tests confirmed spots on her lungs and liver had developed. She was informed she was stage four, and there was nothing they could do.
"Don't go home and curl up," said her doctor. "Go home and live."
Jacobson’s emotions skyrocketed then quickly plummeted like a raging roller coaster as she contemplated the hurt her family would have to bear.
"I want to live to see my grandchildren; I want to talk things through with my husband; and how do I tell my family that I'm going to die?" Jacobson pondered.
Jacobson’s tears silently fall as she revisits the memory.
Through it all, her faith never wavered.
Three weeks later, she awoke to an unfamiliar voice.
"You know where the cancer is," said the voice. "Lay your hands on your liver, and pray."
Jacobson, along with her husband Norris, did exactly that. Shortly after, the Jacobsons were walking out the door. Suddenly, Bonnie Jacobson experienced a fluttery feeling wash through her.
"I think my cancer is gone," she informed Norris.
They continued to hope and pray that Jacobson’s cancer had dissipated. Upon repeating the test, that October day, she learned her cancer had vanished.
"I wouldn't believe it myself, had I not had your previous results," the oncologist said.
"It was a higher power," said Jacobson. "Some people believe it was the medication prescribed. While others believe the biopsy was misread. I know it's a miracle, a gift from God."
After having a couple of years without cancer rearing its head, Jacobson’s tests revealed abnormalities had once again returned in June 2008. Her CAT scan and biopsy showed spots on her liver. Her oncologist in Albert Lea, immediately telephoned breast cancer and liver specialists across the world to devise a plan of surgery. On July 10, 2008, part of Jacobson’s liver was removed, along with her gallbladder. Since surgery she receives faslodex injections every four weeks to block estrogen from the cancer cells.
Jacobson continues meeting with her oncologist annually for tests, including breast exams. Her goal is to make it to the five-year mark without any abnormalities reappearing. Sometimes, she finds herself apprehensive about 2012 approaching, but she has complete trust in her doctors and faith in God.
Bonnie Jacobson truly is a hero of hope. She inspires those around her to appreciate the simple things in life, while staying hopeful that miracles still happen. She encourages others not to take things for granted because every day is a new day. She urges others to accept help because sometimes you really need it. And, she’ll tell you to rely on faith through the hand of God: "It is then you will hear you’re going to make it."
