Loretta Howard was terrified when she learned she had breast cancer in 1988. "On a scale of 1 to 10, (my fear) was about a 15," she says.

When Tina Sansone was diagnosed in 2002, "my first thought was that I was going to die, and I had two little kids. That was the initial thing for my husband, too, and then I thought, 'What am I going to do to fight this and be here for them?' "

This year, more than 200,000 women in the United States will learn they have invasive breast cancer, and another 40,000 will die of it. More than 2 million women living in this country have been treated for the disease.

Breast cancer doesn't discriminate: It strikes women in their 20s and their 70s and everywhere in between. It strikes doctors and lawyers and waitresses and stay-at-home moms - women you know, women just like you.

Programs like this month's Breast Cancer Awareness Month, improved screening and better treatments mean breast cancer survival rates are improving every day, and survivors have an important message for women battling the disease or worried they might one day develop it: Never give up hope.

Connie Hudson

Hudson was a newlywed in 1999 when she learned she had breast cancer.

She underwent a lumpectomy and 20 weeks of chemotherapy, and there's no sign of the cancer returning.

Hudson, a 45-year-old West Chester Township resident, made it her mission to encourage other African-American women to get mammograms. Last year, she and five other survivors founded the Cincinnati chapter of Sisters Network, a national organization aimed at educating African-American women on the importance of screening for breast cancer and the difference early diagnosis can make in survival.

The group works in collaboration with the American Cancer Society, and the local chapter now boasts more than 70 members and associate members.

Members go into churches and other venues to talk to women about the risks of breast cancer and the importance of screening mammography and monthly self-exams.

"Our national slogan is stop the silence, and that's what we're all about. Talk about breast cancer. Learn about your family history and do the things you know can help you live longer," Hudson says.

Loretta Howard

Howard was 39 and a recently divorced mother with four kids - the youngest was 5 - when she learned she had cancer in both breasts in 1988.

She had a biopsy and her doctor told her she didn't have cancer. "And then three days later, they called me back and said, whoops, I did have cancer," Howard says. "Even if you think you're prepared for that diagnosis, you're not."

Her mother had died of the disease at the age of 27, and Howard had always kept up with news of treatment options.

Before she had the double mastectomy, she'd already lined up a surgeon to perform breast reconstruction.

Now 55, she volunteers with Reach to Recovery, a group of survivors who meet with newly diagnosed women to offer encouragement and support.

The Loveland woman says breast cancer taught her to live in the present.

"For years, I didn't make any plans for the long range. You get over that. I'm making long-term plans and plan to live to be 100. There was a time where it was all about living to see my kids graduate from high school," Howard says.

Now her kids are grown and she has four grandchildren. "So I'm a truly blessed person," she says.

Tina Sansone

Sansone, now 35, of Erlanger, had a 7-month-old and 3-year-old at home when she learned she had breast cancer.

At first, her doctor was sure the lump wasn't serious. "He said, 'You're young; don't worry about it,' " Sansone recalls.

But at 32, she had to have a mastectomy and six months of chemotherapy.

"It was really tough," she says. "I lost a lot of weight - which I wasn't that unhappy about, 'cause I'd just had a baby - and I was really sick."

The hardest part was not being with her children, Mason and Logan, now 6 and 3.

A Reach to Recovery volunteer called her after she was diagnosed "and it was very helpful." Now Sansone volunteers with that group and the Pink Ribbon Girls.

It takes a lot of courage to battle breast cancer, Sansone says, and she tries to help the women she counsels find it.

"Having breast cancer doesn't mean you're going to die. You can be here to play with your kids and do all the things you want to do, and it doesn't mean that you have to die. That's the first thing you think, but it's not true," she says.

E-mail pofarrell@enquirer.com