By John Johnston
The Cincinnati Enquirer

Jayme Cope 35, of Hamilton, and Stacy Allen 35, pose in Stacy’s West Chester home wearing their Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation Race For The Cure t-shirts. (Brandi Stafford/The Cincinnati Enquirer)

Stacy Allen 35, and Jayme Cope 35, of Hamilton, started to goof around together while posing for a picture outside Stacy’s West Chester home wearing their Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation Race For The Cure t-shirts. (Brandi Stafford/The Cincinnati Enquirer)

They're giggling like schoolgirls.

Jayme Cope and Stacy Allen, both 35, are recounting the day last month when they hopped in the car after Jayme's most recent chemotherapy treatment and ended up at a tattoo parlor in Northside.

They figured it wouldn't hurt to go in and take a look. Next thing, the tattoo artist was sketching exactly what they wanted. So ...

"We now have matching tattoos," the smiling women say, almost in unison.

The design: a pink ribbon within a purple heart.

Pink ribbons, ball caps and T-shirts will be very much in evidence at Bicentennial Commons at Sawyer Point on Saturday for the Susan G. Komen Greater Cincinnati Race for the Cure, which raises money for breast cancer research, treatment, screening and education. The race/walk unites thousands of people against a disease so awful it might seem nothing good could ever come of it.

But something surely has: the friendship of Jayme Cope and Stacy Allen.

Jayme was 32 when diagnosed with breast cancer in August 2001. The day after 9-11, both her breasts were removed, and she had reconstructive surgery. Chemotherapy began the next month. She lost all her shoulder-length blond hair, her eyebrows, her eyelashes. Treatments continued until the following spring.

ABOUT THE RACE

What: The Komen Greater Cincinnati Race for the Cure, which raises funds for breast cancer research, education, screening and treatment. When: Saturday. Race-day registration is 6:30 a.m.-8 a.m. The competitive 5K run begins at 8:15 a.m.; a noncompetitive 5K co-ed run/walk begins at 8:30 a.m.. And the 2K family run/walk starts at 9 a.m.. The awards ceremony begins at 9:45 a.m. Where: Bicentennial Commons at Sawyer Point. Registration: Adults, $25; under age 14, $15. "In The Pink" registration, which includes T-shirt, sleeveless fleece vest, pre-race breakfast and parking pass, $65. Information: (513) 451-7453 or www.komencincinnati.org.

The Hamilton resident, who sells skin care products out of her home, had strong support from her husband, Arley. Her in-laws helped care for her daughter Nacey, now 6. Jayme also has a stepdaughter, Ashley, 18, who is in college.

But in support group meetings, Jayme had little in common with the women she met, most of whom were older and didn't have children at home.

So when chemotherapy was behind her, her hair had grown back and her health had improved, Jayme considered starting a group to help young women with breast cancer. Then she met a founder of an existing group, Pink Ribbon Girls, and in February 2003 Jayme attended her first meeting.

It was Stacy's first time, too. The stay-at-home mother lives in West Chester Township with her husband, John, and sons Jared, 9, and Riley, 5.

Two months earlier, she had seen a young woman on Oprah tell of finding a lump, which turned out to be cancer. The next morning, Stacy performed her first self-exam and discovered a lump. Her doctor told her, "Women your age don't get breast cancer." The woman on TV had been told the same thing.

Allen pushed aggressively to be tested. Within a week of learning she had cancer, she was sitting among Pink Ribbon Girls, at the same table as Jayme.

Besides their age and cancer, they had other things in common. Both lived in the northern suburbs. Jayme's daughter was close to the ages of Stacy's sons. After the nighttime meeting, Jayme asked, "You want to get some coffee?"

They wound up in a bar and stayed until closing time, talking about their kids, how they met their husbands. Everything. Including cancer.

Later, in her journal, Stacy wrote of meeting Jayme: "We had an instant bond. ... She is my soul sister."

The women grew closer through phone calls, e-mails and lunches. Before Stacy's mastectomy in March 2003, Jayme brought her a care package with items such as creams and lotions, and offered practical tips and caring advice.

Facing it together

But Jayme was facing a crisis herself. She had experienced severe leg pain through the winter of 2003. She knew it might only be an aftereffect of chemotherapy. But it could be cancer.

Initial tests proved inconclusive.

"I would call her and sob and she'd cry with me," Jayme says. She told her friend: If you can't handle this, I'll understand.

"I'm here for you," Stacy said.

Stacy's first chemotherapy treatment was April 25.

One week later, she was sitting on Jayme's porch when the doctor called with the results of Jayme's bone biopsy. Cancer had returned.

The friends, joined by Jayme's stepdaughter, spent much of that night on the porch, wrapped in blankets.

Stacy later wrote in her journal: "We sat and talked and cried and laughed. ... I got home late that night, sat on the back porch and sobbed."

There was only one thing to do.

"We decided we'd be chemo buddies," Jayme says.

When Stacy had a chemotherapy treatment, Jayme did, too. They sat side-by-side in the doctor's office, with tubes carrying cancer-fighting toxins into their bodies. Each treatment took several hours, so there was plenty of time to talk: about shopping, the best sales, kids, and TV shows such as Trading Spaces.

As Stacy neared the end of her chemo treatments last summer, she became quite sick. Her run-down body developed a severe sinus infection, and she suffered intense headaches. She was hospitalized, and once during her two-week stay, Jayme stayed overnight with her, monitoring her more closely than any nurse could.

No regrets

Even if it were possible to rewind the story of her life and replay it differently, Jayme says, "I wouldn't give my cancer back, because I got to meet Stacy."

Jayme's recurrence of cancer was caught early. That's the good news.

But the prognosis for metastatic breast cancer is not good. It's in her bones: femurs, pelvis, spine.

"I'm basically terminal," Jayme says. "But I'm a fighter, and I'm not going anywhere until I'm ready. So I will be on chemo - barring a miracle, which I pray for every day - the rest of my life."

She has met a woman who has lived with a similar diagnosis for 14 years, which gives her hope.

"I will see my daughter graduate from high school," Jayme says. "I will see her graduate from college. I will be there for her wedding, and I will meet my grandchildren. There's no other option. There's just not."

Jayme will postpone her next chemo treatment. She wants to be strong enough so she and Stacy and their husbands and children can walk together in the Komen Race for the Cure.

And so on Saturday these two Pink Ribbon Girls will pull on their pink T-shirts and ball caps and join others in a show of force against an awful disease, all the while grateful for its gift of friendship.

E-mail jjohnston@enquirer.com