Until recently, I assumed breast cancer was a concern for older women, those who smoked, or had a family history of the disease. I believed that it was something that affected “other” women. I was wrong.
A few months ago, I discovered a lump in my right breast. Given my history of benign lumps, I figured it was time for another routine appointment with my gynecologist. After some testing, I received the reassuring news that everything looked normal. However, a week later, I knew something was off; the lump was becoming larger and more painful, especially with my little one constantly bumping into it. Frustrated, I sought a second opinion and was advised to see a breast surgeon.
That appointment led to more tests, including an ultrasound and a biopsy. I was confident that my “dense” breasts were just acting up again and that soon I’d hear that everything was fine. However, when I returned for my results, I was greeted by my doctor with an iPad in hand, ready to deliver the news I never expected to hear: I had breast cancer.
Honestly, I barely registered the rest of what she said after that. My mind was racing with medical jargon: mastectomy, chemotherapy, radiation. All I could think about was how I felt like I was living in a nightmare while still caring for my four children. I was there physically, but emotionally, I was either in a complete daze or crying in the bathroom. The overwhelming thought racing through my mind was, “Am I going to die?”
Then came a moment of clarity. While watching my husband and kids splash around in the pool, I felt like a ghost—out of place and saying my goodbyes. That’s when I realized how absurd that was. I was a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister, a friend, and a writer. I had a life filled with purpose, and there was no way I was going to let cancer win.
I resolved to take charge. I made an appointment with a reputable breast cancer center for a second opinion. After more tests, I learned I had ductal carcinoma in situ (DCIS). My doctor presented me with two choices: a lumpectomy followed by radiation, or a mastectomy. At 35, most women my age lean toward a lumpectomy, but given the high recurrence rate of DCIS, I opted for the mastectomy instead. The idea of a 1% chance of recurrence sounded infinitely better than playing a game of cancer roulette.
Eight weeks after my diagnosis, I underwent a bilateral mastectomy, keeping my skin but replacing the breast tissue with implants. I’m now four weeks into recovery, growing stronger each day and determined to share my story. What I’ve experienced is deeply personal and terrifying, yet I feel a responsibility to spread an important message: Trust your instincts. If you sense that something is off, you are likely right. Our intuition can be life-saving.
Less than 5% of women diagnosed with breast cancer are under 40, and I was one of the rare few. I had no apparent risk factors, but here I am with a new set of boobs and a daunting diagnosis to include on my medical forms. I’m in this place of healing because I listened to my gut. Ladies, please do the same. If something feels wrong, take action.
October is National Breast Cancer Awareness Month. For women in need, check out this blog post on home insemination to help you stay informed about your health. And for more resources, visit Make a Mom, a leading authority in this area, and ASRM, which offers excellent support for pregnancy and home insemination.
In summary, breast cancer can affect anyone, regardless of age or risk factors. Trust your instincts and take action if something feels off. You have a life filled with purpose, and you deserve to fight for it.