I was never good at doing breast self-exams. But one day in 2018, it occurred to me to check my breasts while I was in the shower—and I felt something. I’d just turned 40, and my daughters, Autumn and Lily, were one and five. When I felt the lump, I figured maybe it was related to recently having a baby. I had my husband, Oren, feel it, and he thought I should get it checked out. I’d felt something in the opposite breast a couple of years earlier that turned out to be fibroids, and when I called my gynecologist, she said this was probably the same thing. But after she felt it herself, she said, “Let’s schedule a mammogram.”
The wild thing is, I initially scheduled a 3D mammogram because it’s more in depth. But it was going to take weeks to get an appointment, and I kept second-guessing whether waiting was a good idea. I walked out of the doctor’s office—only to go right back in to ask if there was any way they could fit me in sooner. They said I could get a regular mammogram that week, and if they saw something, they’d take more pictures, so it would be similar to the 3D scan. Thank goodness I went that route because at the mammogram I could tell pretty quickly that something was off. After the imaging the radiologist came in right away and asked if I had another hour to do a biopsy. That’s when I started freaking out. The nurse literally held my hand through it all. A biopsy is just so uncomfortable; I remember this awful clicking sound.
They told me I’d probably hear something the next day. That afternoon I was at my daughter’s swim lesson and still hadn’t gotten an update. It was 3:45 p.m.—if you go through something like this, you never forget details like exact times—when I decided to call them. The nurse hadn’t seen any results but said she would go check. Then she got back on the phone and said, “I’m so sorry. You have breast cancer.”
I went into shock. I called my husband and told him to come home. I grabbed Lily from her lesson and brought her and Autumn out to the car, where I started bawling. Lily asked, “Mommy, what’s wrong?” And I said, “Everything’s gonna be all right. Mommy’s gonna be fine. Mommy’s gonna be fine.” I was just repeating that over and over. I don’t even remember getting home.
As I began processing the news, I called family and friends but not my parents; they were on vacation, and I didn’t want to ruin their trip. That was hard because I talk to my mom pretty much every day. I had to play it off, texting them that I was really busy. Thankfully, they knew I worked a ton. I was in real estate and property management, which was a 24/7 sort of job. So I’d text my mom, “I’m with a client. I’ll call you later!” When they got home my brother and I showed up at their house, and I immediately broke down. I was just like, “Mommy, I have breast cancer.” We were all freaking out. But I knew I was incredibly lucky that my parents had a second home near mine in Phoenix. They did so much to help me get through the first year of treatment. A lot of people don’t have that extra support, and I feel so grateful I did.
I was initially diagnosed with stage 1 cancer and was told the tumor was small. I immediately began interviewing doctors. My husband and I went to one appointment after another—breast surgeons, oncologists, a plastic surgeon. After the fourth oncologist he was like, “Is this our last one?” Turned out it was. When Dr. Brendan Curley walked in, he gave me a big hug and said, “We’re going to fight this. You’re going to live for your babies.” I knew he was my oncologist. Now I always tell people with breast cancer: You’re going to be with this doctor for the long haul; you need to get that warm fuzzy feeling.
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