Lifestyle
Breast Cancer? No Thanks
by Lisa Harper
Dec. 21, 2020
A little over a year ago, I received a breast cancer diagnosis at the age of 37. At the time, I was a mother to three young children: an 8-year-old, a 5-year-old, and a 1-year-old. I had no noticeable lumps or sense that something was amiss; in fact, I felt healthier than ever.
After finishing breastfeeding my youngest, I decided it was time for a long-overdue check-up. My doctor recommended a breast specialist due to my strong family history of breast cancer. I underwent genetic testing and was relieved to learn that I tested negative for all known markers. The specialist advised yearly MRIs and mammograms, and it was during my first MRI that my life took a dramatic turn.
My surgeon called me two days before Halloween with the news: a biopsy confirmed cancer, but it was classified as non-invasive—at least for the moment. Unfortunately, the tumor was too large for a lumpectomy, necessitating a mastectomy. I was advised to consider a double mastectomy. I thought that after the surgery, I could put this behind me, but the thought of not being able to hold my baby for six weeks was heart-wrenching.
I underwent the surgery on December 10, 2019. Just two days later, my husband and I celebrated our 10-year wedding anniversary while I was still in the hospital. Despite the circumstances, I realized the importance of having a supportive partner. He was there for me during the most challenging moments—helping with basic needs and simply being there.
Fortunately, my lymph nodes were clear. However, I received the final pathology report while getting a pedicure—only to find out the cancer was present in both breasts and had spread beyond the milk ducts, classifying me as Stage 1. This news meant I would need chemotherapy, which was a heavy burden to bear. I remember sitting in that salon, fighting tears, and wondering if I would ever feel normal again.
After consultations with oncologists, it was decided that I would undergo four rounds of chemotherapy. My biggest worry became my hair; I was fixated on not looking sick. To combat hair loss, I opted for an expensive cold-capping treatment, a method that involved wearing a freezing cap during chemo sessions. While I experienced significant thinning, the visible loss didn’t occur until after treatment ended. By that time, the pandemic had begun, allowing me to blend in and not draw attention to my appearance when I picked my kids up from school or attended their activities.
Although chemotherapy was grueling, the mental toll was even more significant. I began counting down the days until my last treatment and hung a quote from Robert Frost on my bathroom mirror: “The only way out is through.” I struggled with feelings of depression and eventually sought help with antidepressants. Post-chemo, I often lay in bed, unable to envision a future that felt normal. My children’s visits and snuggles provided the comfort I needed during those dark times.
Chemotherapy concluded at the end of March, coinciding with the onset of COVID-19. I found myself grappling with a new reality—who was I now? Those questions still linger, but they no longer consume my every thought. Gradually, I decided to cut my hair into a pixie style, as the remnants from chemo were in rough shape. I look forward to the day I can wear my hair in a ponytail again; I promise myself I won’t go short again.
Some days, I struggle with my reflection. My breasts are numb, and I no longer have nipples. I miss my old body that nurtured my children. The medication I take to combat the cancer has thrust me into an early menopause, leaving me feeling older than my 38 years. I know I should feel grateful for my three healthy kids and supportive husband, but guilt often clouds my gratitude.
I still find myself crying unexpectedly—in the shower, during drives, and even during routine check-ups. Just recently, I broke down when a technician asked about changes over the past year. How could I convey the profound shifts I’ve experienced? I feel like a stranger in my own body, wrestling with emotions and a story I never wanted to tell.
Meeting new people has become a challenge. My appearance has changed; my hair is awkward, and my features have altered. I long for others to see me as I remember myself.
Despite the hardships, I have been enveloped by love and kindness from friends, family, and neighbors who offered support, meals, and help with my children. Instead of the usual pink ribbons or “farewell to the tatas” parties, my loved ones understood my need for normalcy. They took me out for shopping and drinks, which provided a much-needed escape. The enduring lesson from this journey is that the kindness of others can lift you through the darkest of times.
Initially, I spent sleepless nights researching worst-case scenarios, but I no longer find myself trapped in that cycle. I’m learning to piece my life back together and recognize that this is merely a chapter in a longer narrative. Like many, I attribute this tumultuous year to 2020—a year I’d rather forget.
Search Queries:
- How to navigate a breast cancer diagnosis
- Emotional struggles after chemotherapy
- Support for women with breast cancer
- Coping mechanisms during cancer treatment
- Early menopause and breast cancer treatment
Summary:
This personal account details the journey of a woman diagnosed with breast cancer at age 37. Amid the challenges of treatment and emotional turmoil, she highlights the importance of support from loved ones and the gradual process of coping with her new reality. Her story reflects resilience and the difficulty of adjusting to monumental life changes while maintaining a sense of normalcy, particularly during the pandemic.