Faith, Humor, and the Power of Community: Susan Tallman’s Journey Through Breast Cancer

As Breast Cancer Awareness Month draws to a close, Clinton’s Susan Tallman hopes her story will remind others of the power of humor, community, and faith — and of the quiet strength of family that makes survival possible.

Susan and her husband, Jeff, moved to Clinton in 1996 with their daughter, Ellie. Nearly three decades later, the Tallmans are deeply rooted in the community. Jeff serves as Director of Golf and Club Manager at Musgrove Mill Golf Club, a 300-acre Arnold Palmer–designed course that Susan describes as “just beautiful — nature at its best.”

But in 2005, that peaceful rhythm of family life was interrupted when Susan made an unexpected discovery. “Our house was freezing, and I tucked my hands under my arms to warm them,” she recalled. “That’s when I felt a small bump — and I just knew. I’d been diligent about checking myself and being screened since I was 30, so when I felt it, I was pretty sure what it was.”

Having lost her mother to breast cancer at the age of nine, Susan was both familiar with and prepared for what lay ahead. “I didn’t panic. My first thought wasn’t ‘why me,’ it was ‘what’s next — what’s the protocol, what’s the job?’” she said. “Jeff probably carried the fear for both of us. I think being the spouse is the harder position. You have the space in your head to worry.”

Still, her mother’s battle with the disease cast a long shadow. “My mother’s cancer was horrific — debilitating and isolating,” Susan shared quietly. “She had a full radical mastectomy, and I could count every rib from her chest down. There was no openness, no community support back then. It was all done in silence.”

She explained that in those days, women bore their illness privately, often without the emotional or social support that surrounds patients today. “Now, when you’re diagnosed, the whole world shows up at your door with casseroles and cards, ready to help — and that’s incredible,” she said. “But my mother didn’t have that. She suffered quietly, and that kind of loneliness leaves a mark. I think that’s why I’ve always been open about my own experience. Women changed that. We came together and said, ‘No more doing this alone.’”

A Husband’s Steady Strength

Throughout treatment, Jeff was the family’s anchor — caring for their children, managing the household, and making sure Susan could focus solely on healing. “We were together a lot then,” Susan reflected. “Those drives to Greenville for treatments, lunches afterward, little Target runs — it was retail therapy, and it was time together. I actually enjoyed that season with him. It simplified everything.”

Even as chemotherapy brought exhaustion and pain, Jeff’s steadfastness never wavered. “He just took over,” Susan said. “He handled it all — the family, the house, me. I don’t think I could have done it without him.”

Finding Laughter in the Hardest Days

When Susan and her best friend, Mary Whitman, launched their blog Susan and Mary, they didn’t know they were ahead of their time. “We were blogging before blogging was even a thing,” she laughed. “We had 11,000 followers and we just made people laugh. Dumb humor — self-deprecating stuff. It helped everyone, including us.”

At one point, Susan even invited readers to vote on her reconstructive surgery options. Yes, she really did that. “People literally helped me pick out my new boobs online,” she joked. “It was hilarious. Humor was everything — it’s still everything for me.”

That laughter became a lifeline, transforming fear into connection. “We met amazing people through that site — women like Julie and Dana who were walking through their own cancer journeys. We laughed together and supported each other. Julie has since passed, but those friendships were some of the best things to come out of all this.”

Faith and Perspective

Through it all, Susan says her faith deepened. “Cancer stripped away everything that didn’t matter. I was closer to God then than at any other time. It was simple — I just trusted that the good Lord had it handled.”

Even the grueling parts — the chemo, the fatigue, the endless appointments — brought unexpected blessings. “I met so many kind people. I enjoyed my doctors, my nurses, the drives, the quiet. It reminded me what life’s really about — people, relationships, and grace.”

Community That Cares

The Tallmans’ friends and neighbors rallied around them in practical and powerful ways. “Tracie Scarborough, Mary Whitman, and Heather Tiller literally came over and got me off every committee I was on. They also organized a hometown meal train so my family would have dinner covered every night,” Susan recalled. “And Brenda Stewart came over, cleaned out my cabinets, and reorganized my kitchen so I could reach things after surgery. It was probably the most organized I’ve ever been!”

The love and creativity didn’t stop there. “David and Ruth Greene built a set of Adirondack chairs and had them placed in our front yard so that on warmer days I could sit outside, soak up the sunshine, and just breathe,” she said. “Those chairs became my little sanctuary — a place to rest, think, and be grateful.”

That outpouring of care still humbles her. “Clinton showed up for me,” she said. “And that support meant even more for my kids. When a family is in crisis, helping the children is what really matters. That’s what community does best.”

A Second Battle

Susan is a two-time survivor. Her cancer returned around 2013 — even after a double mastectomy — in the same breast. “It’s an important reminder,” she said. “A double mastectomy doesn’t always prevent future cancer.” This second time, she endured a full year of chemotherapy, plus radiation, and a different drug cocktail — “your body learns chemotherapy,” she explained, “so they rarely give you the same regimen twice.” The round was harder on an older body, and the conversations changed, too. “My kids were older; they could understand more. I had to manage life differently, so I didn’t disrupt theirs — different conversations with them and with friends.” She’s realistic about the future: “It may come back again, and if it does, I’ll be ready to fight again.”

Lessons in Living

Susan beat breast cancer, twice, and though life is busy again with work and new ventures, she says the experience permanently changed her outlook. “Cancer taught me to enjoy every person who crosses your path. People are good — they want to help. You just have to let them.”

She hopes her story will encourage others to pay attention to their health. “If something feels off for more than a couple of weeks, go see your doctor,” she urged. “Early detection saves lives.”

For Susan, laughter, love, and faith remain her strongest medicine. “Faith got me through, humor kept me sane, and Jeff — well, Jeff kept everything else running. I couldn’t have asked for a better partner.”

As the Tallmans continue their life in Clinton, Susan’s story stands as a joyful reminder that even in the hardest seasons, faith, laughter, and love can carry us through.

And while she is deeply grateful for the community that surrounded her, Susan is quick to add that hers is just one story among many. “I feel humbled, but I’m not the only one who’s gone through this — not by far,” she said. “People still reach out to me, and I’m happy to talk about it, but there are others in our community walking this same path. Everyone’s journey is different, and every voice matters. Maybe by next October, we’ll hear more of those voices — because none of us should walk this road alone.”

Editor’s Note:
Below is a video Susan created to commemorate her breast cancer journey and to shine a light on the hometown that carried her through it all — Clinton, South Carolina. Through her story and this heartfelt video, Susan reminds us how vital community truly is in a small town — how friends, neighbors, and even casual connections can make a life-changing difference when someone faces the fight of their life. In Clinton, that kind of care isn’t the exception — it’s the heartbeat of the town.