It all started about ten months ago.
On Monday September 9, 2024, I got the call. “It’s cancer,” she said. “Are you somewhere you can sit down so we can discuss what this means for you?”
But let’s back up a few weeks. It was mid-August, and I had just said goodbye to my college sophomore, Colten, who was moving back to Boston for the year. My husband, Matt, was helping him. My high school sophomore, Oliver, was out with friends. While taking a shower, I noticed a small lump in my left breast. “That’s weird,” I thought. There was not a matching lump on the right. Thinking I was certainly overreacting, I messaged my obgyn just in case. I had a clear mammogram at the end of January, so I wasn’t too concerned. I didn’t even tell Matt when we spoke- it seemed unnecessary.
That was Friday, and by Monday morning my doctor’s office had called to book an appointment. A few days later I was seen. The doctor agreed that she felt something, but that it was quite small. “How did you even notice this?” she asked. I [delightedly!] told her about my new favorite body wash from my trip to France- Nuxe, which is very silky (10/10, highly recommend)- and that I hadn’t even been doing a self exam, just washing as usual when I slipped over the bump. She booked me for an ultrasound and possible biopsy, “just in case.”
I still felt pretty sure it wasn’t anything, but I told Matt. We agreed it was good to do the biopsy just to know for sure that everything was ok.
The appointment started with a mammogram. The tech returned, saying we needed more views- just what you want to hear after your breast has already been smooshed a few times... In my gut, I think this is when I knew- this wasn’t a good sign.
The tech then escorted me to the biopsy room. The ultrasound tech began to explore the area. When he moved over to my armpit, I knew again, at a deeper level, that this was a bad sign. I tried to breath slowly and stay calm.
The doctor came in after a few minutes to tell me they would move forward with a biopsy next- and did I want to do it now or book a separate time? By this point, I was shaking convulsively and realized I wasn’t really hearing what he was saying. I asked him if I could have a few minutes and called my mom. It was September 4th, her birthday. I quickly explained my situation. My mom is an RN and a genetic counselor, having worked at a cancer hospital for years. She agreed it made sense to do the biopsy right then and even spoke to my doctor with me to ask some questions. We biopsied two areas; my left breast and my left armpit (lymph nodes). This was a Wednesday. I would hear back within a week. Agonizing.
On Monday September 9, 2024, I got the call. And I knew.
That call was a deluge of information. Matt and I cried. I called my mom and cried. I called my sisters and cried.
Triple positive breast cancer, stage 2. Agressive. But very treatable.
And then I pulled myself together and jumped on the rest of my work calls for the day.
Mid-week, after I felt I could do so without crying, I texted & talked with my closest friends. They were each immediately there for me in ways that made me cry the hardest; it felt like a heavy load to share and they immediately helped carry it.
In the following weeks, I would make great use of my project management skills, my relationship building expertise, and my advocacy experience. Navigating cancer healthcare is a doozy. I got very good at it.
I would rely heavily on humor, sarcasm, and sheer will to power through each day. Keeping yourself from falling apart and those you love from crumbling under this new weight feels crucial.
I would come to have a new appreciation for what anxiety is and the havoc it can wreak. Every day I would audibly gasp multiple times as I remembered, again and again, that I had cancer. It was the most jarring thought I’ve ever had, each time.
But after about three weeks, I started to be able to move forward. I’d never fully get used to the idea of having cancer (what?!? No. That is so off-brand for me) but I understood that it didn’t matter. It is what it is. I am where I am.
The next weeks and months are now a blur, looking back. There was genetic testing, more biopsies (two more spots were found- changing my plan from a lumpectomy to a mastectomy, something I grieved for a long time). All sorts of blood tests, CT scan, and an MRI biopsy (0/10, do not recommend). Then chemotherapy (6 hours of infusions each time) from October through January. A mastectomy in March. And then final reconstructive surgery at the end of June. (Oh and for fun, sprinkle in a case of Bells Palsy at the end of April, which is still slowly resolving now in early July).
So it’s been a lot. And the journey continues. I’m cancer free (biggest yay ever! I had what’s called a complete response, which also yields better survival outcomes & reduced risk of recurrence later) as of March, and to stay in remission I’ll keep getting infusions every 3 weeks into October 2025 to complete a year of Herceptin (a chemo-like medicine that targets the HER2 receptors from my triple positive breast cancer, and keeps it from recurring). I’ll also soon be starting aromatase inhibitors which will target the hormone positive (ER, PR) factors of my cancer, again protecting against recurrence. I’m not looking forward to that phase (it will be 5 years long!) but I’ve really learned to cross each bridge as I come to it.
Cancer has changed my life, no doubt about it. Lots of negatives and challenges. But to be honest, I look back on the last ten months and I’m grateful for everything I’ve learned and who I’m becoming and most of all- my dear friends and family who I’ve grown closer to through it all.
August 2024- the weekend before my diagnosis, blissfully unaware, with my dear friends Kim, Karima, Moira, and Peggy.
September 2024- my sweet sister Melissa dropped everything to be with me at my first oncology appointments. It was a super scary time and her humor and flexibility and knowledge of the medical landscape helped me stay calm and focused.
March 2025- post-chemo and just before my first surgery. Whether she’s in SF or we’re texting from afar, Michelle’s humor and love and dear friendship brightens my days, daily.
March 2025- my sweet sister Kristen flew out to be with me for my surgery. What a phenomenal support she’s been this year and Best Nurse Ever.
March 2025- My husband, Matt. My rock. All his best qualities have been put to good use this year- his humor, his caring, his patience, his grit.
March 2025- my 16 year old, Oliver. This kid has experienced my cancer as the backdrop of his sophomore year in high school, and has shown nothing but compassion and empathy. What a champ.
June 2025- the weekend before my final reconstructive surgery, again with my college friends. So grateful for Kendra, Peggy & Moira- these women I’ve now known and loved for 33 years! And love that they put on a “serious face” in solidarity with my Bell’s palsy (I can’t really smile, currently).
July 2025- Colten & Oliver have been a huge source of humor for me as I recover from both my last surgery and Bell’s Palsy. They feed off each other, seeing who can make me laugh harder. Such joy.