- I've had breast cancer twice and went through chemotherapy, radiation, and immunotherapy.
- I was finally declared NED — no evidence of disease — but I still worry about it coming back.
The worst day of my life was a steamy July afternoon. I strolled into a medical building with an iced coffee in my hand. This wasn't my $4. The previous two, both removed surgically, were deemed harmless.
Unfortunately, this time was different. The doctor walked in, asking me if we had a nice family vacation. Her pleasantries quickly gave way to a sentence I would never forget. She told me, "I never like to tell women this, but you have breast cancer." The biopsy doesn't lie.
Getting my first — and 2nd — diagnosis
I was diagnosed with stage 0 breast cancer during summer 2017. The kind of breast cancer I had, ductal carcinoma in situ, was contained — or so we thought. After an MRI and another mammogram, I had a mastectomy and implants placed in the same surgery.
I thought my battle was over, but the pathology report following the surgery showed I was actually stage 1. The cancer was so small that it went undetected. Two tumor boards — or a gathering of oncologists — determined I didn't need further treatment.
I again figured I was done with cancer, but I was again wrong. Three years later, I was very ill from my breast implants. As I prepared for $4, I felt a tiny mass in my chest wall. We started the process all over again: an ultrasound, a mammogram, a biopsy. It was cancer — again.
This time, I needed two surgeries to remove the cancer, which were thankfully successful — but my doctors and I decided to pursue chemotherapy, radiation, and immunotherapy. To be stage 1 twice is lucky. I wasn't going to take any chances this time. I dove headfirst into a year of grueling treatments.
Battling cancer twice over a five-year period is absolutely exhausting. People love to deem me "inspirational" since I openly share my cancer journey on social media — I'm told all the time how brave and strong I am — but truly, I'm just as broken as the next person.
I'm now cancer-free, but I still deal with the trauma
After surgery, I was declared "no evidence of disease," or NED, which I am incredibly grateful for. But even though I don't have breast cancer anymore, it still has me.
I've worked relentlessly to disempower $4. I've been in therapy for years, even taking a break from cognitive-behavioral therapy to pursue eye-movement-desensitization and -reprocessing therapy. I exercise every day, eat healthy, meditate, pray, and prioritize sleep. I also find it healing to urge women via social media to do self-breast exams and schedule their mammograms.
Yet no matter what, I cannot erase the past that brought me to the present. The smallest ache or pain sends me into a spiral of anxiety. I find myself wondering: Is my cancer back? I worry all the time whether I'm doing enough to keep my disease at bay.
I often tell people that cancer is a beast, a jerk, a thief, and a liar. It wants nothing more than to destroy, like a villain in a superhero movie. Cancer will stop at nothing. It simply doesn't care how educated, kind, or busy I am. It is lurking and haunting.
Survivors cannot just "get over" or "move on" from cancer. This isn't how trauma works. Many of us live in a space of precarious hopefulness. Though we would love nothing more than to throw all caution to the wind and dance in a field of flowers with a rainbow in the sky, that's not our reality.
Every time I wait for scan results, have more blood drawn, or watch a doctor's hands examine my flat chest, I hold my breath. Will I be OK and for how long? Am I safe? Am I healed and well, or am I sick? Only time will tell, but for now, I will keep fighting for hope to outweigh trauma.