In the seven and a half years one Renton mother has battled cancer she’s been through continual chemotherapy, lost her hair four times and worked full-time.

But not once did Ruth Tasca give up.

“It’s a tough road, but you have to have a tough spirit. You have to have a fighting spirit,” she said. “I know I’m not ready to go yet. I say, ‘This is a minor setback.’”

She’s seen her two sons grow up and purchased her dream car.

Fighting cancer doesn’t come without a cost. With insurance, she still pays about $6,000-8,000 annually in medical bills.

Tasca is one of thousands who’ve received financial aid through the Susan B. Komen For the Cure. Its Seattle Race for the Cure is June 6.

Before being diagnosed with breast cancer, Tasca was a hiker, fond of picking wild mushrooms and fly fishing.

She was a healthy 44-year-old. She exercised and ate well.

Breast cancer wasn’t written in her family history. Her only risk factor was waiting until her 30s to have children.

The 5.8-centimeter lump felt at first like an injury from work, but when it refused to heal, she suspected it was more.

“I don’t know why I got it or how I got it. I just did,” she said.

She had Stage 3 cancer, and an only 20 percent chance of survival. Doctors performed a mastectomy and she began chemo.

“I was devastated, I couldn’t believe it,” said mother Ingrid Russell.

The diagnosis was hard on her husband Michael, who in addition to losing his job also lost a father and uncle to cancer.

“He was just watching his family go one at a time, and then his wife got diagnosed,” Tasca said. “This has been really really hard on my kids.”

Her first hope was to see her kids graduate. Her younger son David, 18, is still working toward graduating online.

Michael, 21, graduated and spent some time on a fishing boat and works part-time at IKEA.

“He wanted to go out to sea, but he’s afraid to leave with me being sick,” she said.

At 46 her cancer appeared to be in remission. She quit her job as a florist for a better-paying accountant position to pay for a new Mustang GT, which she admits came with a mid-life crisis.

The freedom didn’t last. In 2006 she began feeling sick again.

Her joints and ribs were sore, but chemo can cause arthritis. Her liver showed spots, but chemo can cause a fatty liver.

In 2007, she persuaded her doctor to do a CAT scan, she said. “I could tell by the demeanor of the radiologist there was something wrong.”

It was Stage 4 cancer, terminal and metastatic. It was in her bones and covered her liver.

“When he (oncologist) gave me a time limit, I fired him,” she said. “A lot of people get cancer, they give up, and they’re gone.”

She got a second opinion at the Seattle Cancer Treatment and Wellness Center, which balances Eastern and Western medicine.

Her new doctor believed she could still be cured, she said.

“I went through some pretty aggressive chemo and working the whole time,” she said.

She’s stopped work this month, three years later, she said. “My body is telling me it’s time to quit.”

The chemo gave the 51-year-old congestive heart failure, which is reversible in her condition but could be deadly.

They’ve also struggled with recovering financially. Husband Michael has been in and out of work for several years

“I don’t know how I’m going to make my next house payment,” she said. They’ve been paying for the 101-year-old South Renton home for about 23 years. She used a $500 grant from Komen to pay for groceries in November, and applied for disability in May.

“Now I’m just praying we have enough to get us through,” she said.

A faded poster of Jesus hangs above the family piano. The wood floors creak with age, figurines and furnishings tell of Renton memories and a European past.

A beam of light shines down at the dinner table.

“Once in a while I question God, ‘Why am I going through this?’” she said. “Maybe down the line, I can be cured.”

She doesn’t accept guilt, but wonders what life for her family would be without cancer.

Russell, her mother, turned from looking out the window.

“It’s not your fault,” she said in a fading German accent.

“It’s not,” Tasca agreed somberly.

“Then don’t excuse it. It’s not your fault.”

Tasca is as stubborn and as strong as her mother, she says.

She also had her mother’s hair. A photo of Russell at age 20 reveals dark brown curls that flow down her shoulders.

“One of the worst parts of cancer is losing my hair,” she said. “It kind of makes you not feel like a woman.”

Her short thin and grey hair grows beneath a full wig of straight brown hair.

Tasca has four wigs, one she calls her sassy wig. The reddish strands of hair were cut diagonal to make it longer on one side.

“I don’t want sympathy. I don’t want pity. I want positive thoughts around me,” she said. “When you get down like that, you get sicker.”

Three years ago she was told she had no more than four years to live. It’s been three and a half years, and things are improving.

A recent scan found the cancer was reduced by half in her bones. The about 30 tumors in her liver were reduced to six, which are now half the size.

“Always from the get-go, I wasn’t going to let the cancer get to me,” she said.

Few women want to share their story, but Tasca has hope that this can be beat, she said. “Never stop fighting, no matter how bad you feel.”