Until recently, I thought breast cancer was a concern for other women—those who were older, had a family history, or perhaps engaged in unhealthy habits. I was mistaken.
In April, I discovered a lump in my right breast and quickly made an appointment with my gynecologist. Having had two non-cancerous lumps removed in the past, I assumed I would face surgery again. My doctor ordered an ultrasound and mammogram, and I felt relieved when the initial results indicated everything appeared normal.
However, a week later, I reached out to my doctor once more, expressing my growing concern. The lump had become larger and more painful, aggravated by my baby bumping into it and the friction from my seatbelt and cross-body bag. I was advised to see a breast surgeon.
That visit led to another ultrasound and a biopsy. I remained optimistic, convinced that the issues were simply due to my “dense” breast tissue. But two weeks later, everything changed. As I donned the uncomfortable maroon medical gown, I felt rather cold and uneasy. The doctor entered with an iPad, casually exchanging pleasantries before delivering the devastating news: I had breast cancer.
The specifics of her explanation faded into the background as she drew illustrations and mentioned terms like mastectomy, chemotherapy, and radiation. I left with brochures and a referral for an MRI, my mind racing with fear and uncertainty.
In the days that followed, I struggled to cope. I took care of my four children on autopilot, physically present but emotionally adrift. One Sunday afternoon, while watching my family enjoy a carefree swim, I felt like an outsider, as if I were already saying goodbye. Then it hit me: I was a wife, a mother, a daughter, and a writer. I had purpose. I refused to let cancer dictate my story.
That day, I resolved to face this challenge head-on. I sought a breast surgeon at a renowned cancer center, where more tests confirmed my diagnosis. My doctor presented me with two treatment options for DCIS: a lumpectomy followed by six weeks of radiation, or a mastectomy.
Most women my age tend to opt for the lumpectomy to preserve their breasts. However, given the high recurrence rate of DCIS in younger women, I learned that if I chose this route, the cancer could return—likely in the opposite breast. When I asked about the likelihood of recurrence with a mastectomy, the doctor estimated it at around 1%. The choice was clear: I would undergo the mastectomy and say goodbye to cancer.
Eight weeks post-diagnosis, I had a bilateral mastectomy with nipple- and skin-sparing direct-to-implant reconstruction. All my breast tissue was removed and replaced with implants, while keeping my exterior intact. Now, as I recover, I feel stronger and more determined to share my experience. It’s a deeply personal journey, but I believe it’s crucial to convey an important message to other women:
If you suspect something is off, trust your instincts. Women possess a unique intuition, and heeding it can be life-saving.
Less than 5% of women diagnosed with breast cancer are under 40. I was among that small percentage, facing a diagnosis with almost no risk factors. Yet here I am, in a place of healing because I listened to my gut. I urge you, dear readers, to do the same.
October is National Breast Cancer Awareness Month, and if you’d like to learn more about supporting women in need, please click here. For additional insights on family planning, consider checking out our blog post on home insemination kit resources.
Summary
This article details a young mother’s unexpected breast cancer diagnosis, emphasizing the importance of trusting one’s intuition regarding health concerns. Despite minimal risk factors, she faced a tough choice between lumpectomy and mastectomy, ultimately opting for the latter. Her journey illustrates resilience and the necessity of advocating for one’s health.