My Breast Cancer Diagnosis: Gratitude, Grit & Navigating Invasive Ductal Carcinoma
Writing Through the Journey
Writing is one of the most powerful things we can do—it allows us to give shape to our experiences and offer something of value to others. As James Clear wrote, “There is someone out there with a wound in the exact shape of your words.” This is my story, and if it helps even one person, then sharing it will have been worth it.
My Breast Cancer Diagnosis: Resilience, Hope, and Healing
In January 2024, a routine mammogram changed everything. I want to encourage all women to start their year by prioritizing self-care beyond facials and cleanses—this includes vital health checks like mammograms and gynecological appointments. These routine steps can save lives.
My breast cancer diagnosis came as a complete shock. I had no symptoms—this was just a routine check-up. I was diagnosed with invasive ductal carcinoma, LB, ER-positive. I was already a cancer survivor—at 20, I had synovial sarcoma, a rare cancer in my right arm. That journey was brutal. After years of misdiagnoses, I finally had a 14-hour surgery involving nearly 30 medical professionals, which ultimately saved my life and my right arm. That experience left me with permanent physical limitations but also an unshakable sense of gratitude and optimism. It also ingrained in me the importance of never missing a check-up.
Because I had tested negative for BRCA1 and BRCA2 a decade ago, I wasn’t expecting this recent diagnosis. But a routine mammogram flagged something suspicious, leading to further imaging and a biopsy on Valentine’s Day. I had dense breasts and had undergone a biopsy two years earlier for what was believed to be a clogged duct. This time felt different. When I caught the knowing glance exchanged between the technicians, I felt a sinking realization. They took 12 tissue samples from one area and six from another. I usually attend these exams alone, but thankfully, a friend waited for me in the waiting room—it made all the difference.
Diagnosis & Planning Mode
The moment I was diagnosed, I went straight into logistics mode—it’s how I cope. I sought guidance from fellow survivors, gathered multiple medical opinions, and mapped out my options. I was given two very different recommendations:
1️ One surgeon suggested a double mastectomy and months of chemotherapy.
2️ Another wanted more imaging before making a final decision.
I chose the path that felt right for me. Initially, my doctor considered a lumpectomy, but an MRI revealed that the cancer was too close to the nipple, meaning a mastectomy was necessary. When he told me I would lose the breast, he asked if I needed a moment to process it. My response was immediate:
“No. The first surgeon already had me losing both breasts. Thank you for trying—I am in it to win it. I will do whatever it takes.”
Telling My Family
Breaking the news to my husband and children was one of the hardest moments of my life. My husband had already walked this road with me before—we were dating during my first diagnosis—and it felt unfair that he had to be my rock once again. But the toughest moment? Waiting for my kids to wake up so I could explain it to them.
My children have always known me as a survivor, and I reminded them of that—pointing to my scars as proof that I would be okay again. When my son asked if I was going to die, I was honest but reassuring. I told him I was confident we caught it early and that it hadn’t spread beyond the breast.
The outpouring of support from family and friends was overwhelming. Thoughtful gifts—bracelets with warrior messages, saint medallions for protection, hospital pillows, scar-reducing creams, and even a photoshoot to commemorate my breasts—were reminders that I wasn’t alone. The cancer community helped me choose my medical team and gave me the encouragement I needed to move forward.
Preparing for Surgery
We chose Memorial Sloan Kettering (MSK) in New York for my surgery, which meant we would sell our Dallas house and move back home to New York. At the time of surgery, you don’t know what pathology results will reveal or whether additional treatment will be needed. We planned logistically for the worst and hoped for the best. Being back in New York would allow us to be close to MSK and have family support if needed.
I spent the next month packing, donating as much as possible, handling school applications for the kids, and preparing for the move. I drove from Texas to New York for my surgery, leaving my husband and kids to finish the school year. We would all reunite in the summer.
The week of surgery was a whirlwind: pre-op tests, signing consents, and meeting my plastic surgeon. The night before surgery, as I looked in the mirror at the purple marker outlining my breast, reality set in.
The morning of surgery, I followed protocol—washing with Hibiclens to prevent infection. As I was wheeled into the OR, I felt a gut punch of grief and disbelief—this isn’t fair. But as soon as I got onto the operating table, I looked around the room and thanked each and every person for their hard work and dedication. As I drifted into anesthesia-induced sleep, my last words were, “Thank you, and my family thanks you.”
Recovery: Pain, Setbacks & Triumphs
No one prepared me for how painful a mastectomy would be. Seriously—no one told me how much it would hurt.
The nerve blocker helped in the first week, but by weeks two and three, the pain was intense. I struggled with medications, convinced it was the spacers causing the discomfort. I was actually glad my kids weren’t around to see me in that condition. Finally, a nurse told me:
“You’re not giving enough credit to the extent of the surgery. It will get better.”
She was right. Each week got a little better. Sometimes, you just need someone to acknowledge how hard it is before you can move forward. At six weeks post-op, just when I was cleared for movement, my vertical scar line separated—requiring emergency surgery the night before my husband and kids flew back to New York to move permanently. It meant my reconstruction surgery would be delayed, which I had hoped to complete before summer’s end. And it also disrupted another school year. But the day after surgery, we reunited as a family and visited some of our favorite NYC places—we walked through the Met, saw a Broadway show, and had dinner at our favorite spot. It was a perfect day—a reminder of why I keep fighting.
Finding Light in the Dark
Humor helps. After my third and final surgery, my husband and mother were changing my bandages when she asked him to hold something. Instinctively, he grabbed my breast implants. We all burst into laughter—a much-needed moment of comic relief!
Reflections & Advice
Cancer changed me, but it didn’t break me. Instead of anxiety, I feel peace and optimism.
If I could offer one piece of advice, it’s this: Schedule your annual check-ups. Find a team you trust, and don’t be afraid to lean on others. Early detection saves lives.
A fellow survivor told me to focus on self-care before surgery—get your hair done, wax, and do things that make you feel good. It’s about embracing a living mindset and reminding yourself:
You are going to be here. 💕
#NoOneFightsAlone #Breasties #MastectomyRecovery
