Strange family no stranger to breast cancer battle

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Courtesy Paul Lester

Curtis Strange poses with some of the volunteers at The Woodlands before the second round of the Administaff Small Business Classic.

THE WOODLANDS, Texas -- Maybe it was the hug that gave it away.

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It lasted a bit longer than usual. It was a little tighter.

Maybe it was the emotion. The smiles.

Whatever it was, the late Dave Marr knew it was something more there than just the exhilaration of winning a second consecutive U.S. Open. He knew Sarah and Curtis Strange too well.

"This one,'' Marr said on the air as he watched them together on the 18th green Oak Hill Country Club, "seems to mean more to them for some reason.''

Indeed it did.

Sarah smiled as she recalled watching the broadcast later with Curtis.

"We both went, Yeah. you're right.' ''

Marr didn't know. In fact, only a precious few outside their family -- about a half dozen -- at that 1989 Open knew that Sarah was a breast cancer survivor. She had been diagnosed after Curtis won his first Open at Brookline and underwent a lumpectomy at Houston's M.D. Anderson Cancer Center.

Clear margins. Good diagnosis. But only the beginning of the story.

Twenty-one years later, Sarah is a two-time breast cancer survivor. In 2004, they found another lump and she made the decision to have a double radical mastectomy at M.D. Anderson. Her mother, grandmother and aunt were survivors and she wasn't taking any chances.

"I just knew I had two strikes and I didn't want a third,'' she said Thursday after her annual checkup with her Houston doctor. "I knew I was old enough to handle it and young enough to want to do the reconstruction.''

Curtis will tell you she was the strong one during the decisions, the surgery and the recovery. Sarah will tell you he was. Truth is, they both were.

"Isn't that so funny?'' she said. "All during the time frame, he said 'You don't have to do this. You don't.' I said, 'This is what I'm doing.'

"I want to see my children and my grandchildren. I have an option now. I don't want to wait until I don't. And I was so grateful for that. Why would you not?''

Curtis smiled. "It's a brave, aggressive treatment, but it was the right thing to do in her case because you don't have to worry every day the rest of your life.''

Back in 1989, Sarah wasn't ready to talk about her cancer, but today she and Curtis are there when anyone asks. And they do ask.

The conversation starter is usually the pink ribbon on Curtis' golf bag. It's there all the time, not just during October -- Breast Cancer Awareness month -- and his pro-am partners and businessmen usually open the conversation.

"My dearest memories are the friends and family who helped,'' she said, '' . . . the people who I called who had been in similar situations to ask my questions. I have since returned that as much as I can. I've talked to people I don't even know. Curtis may have played golf with someone and they may ask, will Sarah talk to my wife?"

She doesn't hesitate. Absolutely.

Both Sarah and Curtis are pragmatic about their journey, Sarah's surgeries and the disease. They remind you it's awareness and early detection that saved her life and she is adamant that friends make their annual appointments. And this week, that's something all the players are driving home at this week's Administaff Small Business Classic, where Saturday is Pink Out day.

Curtis and Sarah both spoke at an M.D. Anderson fundraiser a few years ago in El Paso, Curtis played in Cristie Kerr's recent Birdies for Breast Cancer event in New Jersey, youngest son David has played in breast cancer tournaments and Sarah pitched in when older son Tom asked for help on a breast cancer event in Nashville.

"We're lucky that Sarah survived it and can help other people,'' Curtis said. "We can help the patients who were frightened like we were.

"I can talk to spouses and tell them, 'Hey, it's going to be a year until things are back to normal.' Doctors aren't going to tell you that. I can tell them, 'Hang with her. She might get depressed.' Sarah didn't.''

She simply had faith. So did Curtis. They still do.

Sarah turns 55 next month; Curtis will be 56 in January. She and Curtis just celebrated their 34th wedding anniversary. And the grandchildren? Their first -- Tom and wife Katie's first child Thomas -- is due in December.

For them, it's always been about family and friends. Friends from Virginia and North Carolina; friends from Wake Forest. They were there through it all. Friends who were there at the hospital and those who brought dinner. The ones who helped clean the dog poop off the lawn or were there with a smile.

"They were all so tender and wonderful,'' she said.

They all say the same thing about her.

Sarah was 33 when they found the first lump, which was tiny and encapsulated. Doctors were confident, but, to this day, it was the scariest thing she'd faced.

"I was young, my kids were young,'' she said. "It was like whoa... what? And to not know how I was going to wake up from the operating table, because we had to sign the papers for everything. I didn't know what shape I was going to be in.''

Her first memory after the surgery was Curtis in her face telling her everything was ok. She was ok.

It wasn't the first tough moment in their marriage. Sarah has always been the rock; Curtis the rough edge. They came up on the PGA TOUR when there weren't courtesy cars or a top 125. Curtis missed Q-school by a shot in his first try. He struggled at times with his temper. And then there was the 1985 Masters when Curtis opened with an 80 but when into the final nine up by four. He hit his approaches at 13 and 15 into the water and finished second.

Those made the good times -- two sons, two U.S. Opens and a spot in the Hall of Fame to name a few -- even sweeter.

Especially that second U.S. Open. In fact those two years, period, when he won five times -- no one could touch him on the course -- were exceptionally special considering.

"It's so overused, but so true -- things are put into perspective pretty quickly,'' he said. "Me playing well that year or in the Open . . .golf is important, but you're motivated by Sarah's attitude. Why should I get upset? Here's a person who could possibly be fighting for her life and she was going about it like it wasn't a big deal. It was, but she was incredibly positive.''

"I was ready to do what I had to do, which was take care of her. On the other hand, she was ready for me to do what I needed to do. She kinda kicked me out and said go play. But the red flags were up.''

Sarah Strange at the Administaff Small Business Classic.

Everything came back normal for the next 15 years. Then, just before David's high school graduation, she had the second biopsy.

Sarah didn't consider another option and the post-mastectomy pathology confirmed her decision. There were cancerous cells in both breasts.

"I didn't know,'' she said. "I just knew that was what I needed to do."

And Curtis? He admits grilling the doctors on what to expect. He wanted to be prepared -- for anything.

"It's hard for the spouse, too, because it's hard to see your partner go through so much,'' he said. "The patients are the strongest ones. I didn't meet one patient in the cancer unit over there that wasn't incredibly optimistic and strong. It's a special place.

"It's uplifting. These people are fighting for their lives and they have an attitude like we all should all have everyday. What's the Tim McGraw song? 'Live Like You Were Dying.' I'm telling you. That song hits home to a lot of people.''

Houston was a special place for Curtis and Sarah before they went to M.D. Anderson. He won the last of his three now-Shell Houston Opens before Sarah's first surgeries and one of his good friends/teachers was the late Dick Harmon. The night before the mastectomy, Harmon, his wife Nancy and Charlie and Judy Epps had dinner and it was Harmon who would pull Strange away from the hospital for a few hours to hit balls when they came back to town for annual checkups.

There wasn't, Curtis said, another option. From the first diagnosis on, Sarah was coming back to M.D. Anderson once or twice a year. Whatever the doctors wanted.

Through it all, "Little Sarah" as one nurse called her, kept a positive outlook. And she met some other strong women. She encouraged them, they encouraged her.

One told her she was going to watch for her on television with Curtis because then she knew she would be ok.

Then six years ago she met a woman who kept being called back for more tests.

"I'm thinking everything is ok,'' Sarah said. "And this lady was having a really hard time. I said 'That's ok. That's why you're here. Don't worry about it. You're in the right place.' Then, lo and behold, who did they call back three times?''

Boom, boom, boom. Then the doctor took her for a biopsy.

A week after the second surgery, Sarah was sitting in a chair at home, unable to do anything but rest. She looked into the kitchen and saw friends making dinner. She heard a laugh and looked outside where Curtis was having a beer with friends and grilling.

She started to cry.

"At that point I really knew everything was going to be ok,'' she said. "It was so special to have them here. It was so good for Curtis.

"We were back to normal.''

And today? She and Curtis are blessed. With friends, family and that grandson on the way.

"I have truly,'' she said, "been given a gift.''

One Sarah, the two-time survivor -- as she calls herself when she talks to women she doesn't know -- hopes early detection, research and simple awareness will give other women too.