Let me start this by saying, I really did not want to hit publish on this blog. It’s not like the diagnosis has been a secret, I just have not made any sort of formal announcement. The longer it went on, the more I just felt like I’d rather be on the other side of things before people knew about it. I went back and forth over whether to do this, but ultimately, if this story can help a single person with early diagnosis, it will have been worth it. So here goes:

The Lump. I was sitting in the bathtub sometime in January 2024 and felt a lump in my right breast. I sort of ignored it at first, but when it did not change or go away after a few days, I called my OBGYN to make an appointment for an mammogram. I honestly didn’t think much of it. I have no family history of breast cancer. I was sure I would go in and it would be a cyst or some other benign thing and we would be done. I am so, so glad I did not ignore it. If you take anything away from this story - DO NOT IGNORE THINGS IN YOUR BODY AND DO NOT PUT OFF YOUR APPOINTMENTS.

Mammogram and Ultrasound. My diagnosis was not exactly what I would have imagined based on ideas given me from the movies. No one called me and told me to bring my husband in for us to hold hands and tearfully receive the diagnosis. It was so much less dramatic than that. I had already had a mammogram at my OBGYN office and they referred me to West Cancer Center. On March 12, 2024, I went to Margaret West Comprehensive Breast Center, where I had another mammogram and an ultrasound. While I was there, a radiologist looked at my ultrasound and a young doctor, whom I believe was shadowing the more seasoned doctor there, came in and asked if I could stay for a biopsy that afternoon. Um, yes. Please. Let’s get this show on the road. She seemed nervous and said the word “cancer” at least once but never said “we think it’s cancer” or “you have cancer.” It was sort of bizarre and I felt like I was still sort of there to determine what the lump was. So you’re telling me there’s a chance. When I went in for the biopsy, the breast surgeon there (not my ultimate breast surgeon) said something along the lines of “well, we just need to get in there and see what kind it is.” I think we missed a step. What kind it is? Aren’t we putting the cart before the horse? No one has told me I have cancer. This was supposed to be diagnostic. WTF. It was very matter of fact. Honestly, in retrospect, I think I am glad it happened this way, because there was honestly no point in the journey where I freaked out. It was just very clinical and treatment-focused.

The Call. I left the clinic with the promise that I would hear from someone about the results of the biopsy. March 13, the surgeon called. I was at work and one of my coworkers was in my office. I asked her to step out and took the call. She started with the basics: it is breast cancer. She talked for a few minutes and then said “look, I’m just going to lay it out there. It looks to be small and isolated. It does not look like it has spread. It is treatable.” I still needed to do genetic testing and await further results of the biopsy (Ki-67, hormone receptive or not, HER2 positive or negative). I honestly felt calm. I did not cry or panic. It was just all so surreal.

The Results. I was diagnosed with invasive ductal carcinoma. HER2 Negative, hormone receptive. Stage 2a.

The Aftermath. Hands down the hardest part of this whole thing was telling my family and friends. I only told a few people at work because I wanted to continue working normally and I was afraid people would treat me differently once they knew. My boss and team (who did know) were the absolute best. When I told my boss, she asked “what do you need?” I remember saying “please don’t take anything from me. I want to see how it goes. I will let you know if it’s too much.” She honored that request and work was the perfect escape because it was the one place in my life where very few people really knew what was going on.

When I told my parents, I was so nervous that my heart was racing and my hands were sweating. As I drove to their house, I told my girlfriends that I felt like I was going to tell them I was 16 and pregnant. It was a ridiculous thing to be nervous about because my parents are the best, and they handled the news just how I needed them to.

My friends and family have been wonderful. Their love and support deserves a post of its own. Telling them was awful. I wanted to reassure them that I was okay. I sent a few group texts that said something along the lines of “there is no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to say it. I have breast cancer. We caught it early and it is treatable.” Once the closest few knew, I told them to go forth and disperse the information as they saw fit because I could not bring myself to a public (i.e. social media) announcement. It’s not my style. So why the blog, weirdo? That’s pretty public. I honestly didn’t know if I would ever publish the blog, or if I would just use it as a journal of sorts to organize my thoughts. In the end, though, I think it is SO important that people know that this happens. It can happen to anyone. Girls, please, please do your self exams and annual mammograms. I would not have the same story had I not found this lump on my own.