By Deb Hart AUTHOR, INSPIRATIONAL, SPEAKER, MOM, FRIEND, ENTREPRENEUR, DIAGNOSED AT AGE 50 WITH LOBULAR AND DUCTAL CARCINOMA. BILATERAL MASTECOMY, INITIAL RECONSTRUCTION WITH IMPLANTS THAT ENCAPSULATED. SECONDARY RECONSTRUCTION WITH SILICONE IMPLANTA AND FATTY TISSUE/ADIPOSE TRANSTER, 3-D NIPPLE TATTOOS. Seven months after I lost my twenty-two year old son, Kasey, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I had only been married for a few months before Kasey died. This new relation ship was based on the fun-loving, life-of-the-party girl who was foot-loose and fancy-free, financially independent and ready to live life now that the kids were gone. I was young, healthy and happy. I was these things, and in the span of just a few months I didn’t know who or what I was. Wow. Breasts removed. Chemotherapy. Infections. Had just lost my son. To say I was not a good parent would be understatement of gross proportions . I barely had any will to get up each morning, let alone to rebuild, relive, or reconstruct. However, time marches on. In the beginning of this story I struggled just to get out of bed and take a shower. In the end I wrote a book, started a non-profit, and became an inspirational speaker. In between I got new boobies. Obviously, there’s more to the story! In the train-wreck stage of things, even my new rack was a disaster. My reconstruction was ok for about five years, and them my implants encapsulated, (which means scar tissue was forming and hardening around the implants). I had hunched shoulders and pain- not to mention they did not look good. So, I found a physician who claimed he could fix me right up! We had the damn things re-moved and replaced with the more natural lipo fat implants. Well, wouldn’t you know it, this too went sideways. Because somehow, despite a “successful” surgery, two days after arriving home my kidneys failed. Subsequently my heart failed, although by then I was in the ICU and they were able to revive me. Not so for the kidneys. I was sent home from the hospital after three weeks, to a life of dialysis three times a week for five hours a day. I was told there was a chance my kidneys would “kick back in.” But for three months, this was my new so-called “life”. Like many before me I was desperate to find a reason – some purpose for all that I was going through, so I bargained and made a deal with God . I promised if he would just get those kidneys going again, I would start a non-profit to provide retreats for women diagnosed with breast cancer I would write a book. I would become an inspirational speaker. The powers that be must have liked those ideas because the kidneys started working again. I wrote a book. I started a successful 501(c)3: “Pink Sistas”, and I am an inspirational speaker. The second marriage failed (go figure)! But the new breasts are pretty good. I was nervous about them, especially being back out on the dating scene. But I did a little research and found a woman who did breast reconstruction nipple tattoos. For me, this was the key to just possible accepting, and maybe even liking my bosom! The tattoos make me think I have something resembling real breasts, and in the shadowy light of intimacy, they actually feel “real.” As for my life, I got it back by giving back….I love the creativity and heart within the process of reaching out and supporting others. Every time I share my story, I come closer to healing my heart. Our friends and family want to be there and want to help us, but they haven’t “done the journey.” It is very different to be able to speak with someone who has suffered the same kind of challenge, the same kind of loss that you are experiencing. During treatment and during surgery, out families are there for us. After this, it seems that everyone offers the “high-five”, sending cards, messages, or food. There is then a period where family and friends feel “we were there for you”, but the process continues. As we hop our of the shower and see that our breasts are gone….these are the moments when the processing begins. We begin to the voice on our shoulder saying “when is it going to come back?” “How do I get my life back together?” When you join with other breast cancer patients, there is a sisterhood that does not end in the midst of your processing, but instead reaches a hand out to every stage of dealing with breast cancer and its aftermath. There is no judgment, only understanding. Do not put a timeline on your own processes. Joy and happiness will come back. Don’t expect them to be there every moment. It’s ok; this is a true hit to self-confidence and self-image. Allow yourself to be nurtured and cared for as much as your life allows for this.

By Donna J. Charlevoix This will be my 12th October in which the designation of Breast Cancer Awareness Month (BCAM) is very personal. I was first diagnosed with stage 0 breast cancer in 2009. After limited treatment and being “cured” (as I was told) I always felt like the pinkness of October was a little too commercialized. It felt insincere on some level. Fast forward to 2019. Last summer I was diagnosed with Stage 4 (metastatic) breast cancer which had spread to my bones. October seemed to come quick after my diagnosis and had a surreal feel to it. Everywhere I turned: pink and ribbons. Every business was selling a product with pink. Social media was flooded with pink. I couldn’t seem to escape it. I knew on some level many individuals and businesses felt like they were sincerely helping the cause of breast cancer awareness, and they were raising awareness. People are very aware of breast cancer. Awareness is not enough . Awareness is not going to keep me alive. Awareness is not going to prevent my two beautiful girls from losing their mother too early. Awareness is not going to keep my husband from being a widower before retirement. Awareness is not going to prevent my parents from outliving their child. Research for a true cure is the only thing that will save me and the other 168,000+ individuals in the U.S. living with a terminal diagnosis of metastatic breast cancer. My commitment to myself for this October - and really everyday - is to educate friends, family and strangers – basically everyone – that awareness is not enough. How to Move Beyond Awareness We need resources focused on research for a cure. We need to lobby our elected officials to support legislation for more funding for breast cancer research for a cure. We need to make sure every person knows that there is no cure and that 30% of breast cancer “survivors” will be diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer and not survive. We need to move beyond awareness to a true cure.

My name is Monique Costa and I’m 32 years old. Finding a lump in my breast one night completely changed my life and I knew this one was different. I had a history of fibroadenomas but they always came back benign. I called my doctor right away. The next few days consisted of endless scans, a biopsy and then getting a call at work that I had breast cancer. My doctor didn’t think my lump was anything to be worried about and it took us both by surprise. I remember bawling my eyes out and packing my stuff to head home from work. I was so scared, angry and upset that I heard these awful words that no one wants to hear. Many doctors appointments later, I was diagnosed with stage two, triple positive breast cancer at 27 years young. Being diagnosed with breast cancer at such a young age, I felt so alone. Every time I went to the doctors, the waiting rooms were filled with older ladies staring at me. Never in a million years did I think I would have to go through chemo and lose my hair or get burned from radiation. I didn't know that my life would consist of constant doctors appointments, scans and the fear of the unknown. My journey started with a lumpectomy and lymph node biopsy. After surgery, I had 6 rounds of intense chemo (TCHP) and a year of Herceptin infusions. I then had 33 rounds of radiation. I’m currently on Tamoxifen and a monthly injection called Lupron for 5 years. I'm In menopause and it’s a ton of fun… not! The silver lining is I will complete my 5 years of hormone therapy in 2021! Throughout my journey, I wanted to create awareness that young women can and do get breast cancer and it is so important to be in tune with your body and be a self-advocate. I didn’t have any family history and I was a healthy young adult. I had no risk factors and I still got breast cancer. I started sharing my journey through my blog ( www.moniquerose8.com ) and also social media. If I can help one woman check themselves and report anything to their doctor if it doesn't seem right, I know that I am helping many across the world. I'm also involved with many young advocate groups. Sharing my story has allowed me to find other young women across the world who just “get it.” They understand what it’s like to have hot flashes, talk about a family after cancer and the fear of recurrence. Throughout treatment, so many people asked how I could still have a smile on my face while I was battling for my life. Trust me, there were days I didn’t smile and I would just cry. I still have those days and I deal with anxiety; something I’ve never had in my life. My strength and resilience is what makes me feel strong. I didn't recognize myself throughout treatment. My hair is back to my pre-cancer length and I've gained weight throughout treatment. It's so hard to look in the mirror and not become discouraged that I don't have my pre-cancer body. Instead of getting upset, I focus on my strength and how I was able to overcome something that was so challenging. I appreciate that I can work out and eat healthy. Not being able to get off the couch from chemo and feeling so nauseous, brighter days seemed so far away. I continue to wear a smile on my face and appreciate my strength, while also looking forward to my beautiful future.

Hi, My name is Andrea and this is my Story... I certainly don’t remember being conventional, even when I was. I know being involved with breast cancer charities for the past 20 odd years, and even through my mom’s experience of it, that I would be unconventional in how I travelled through my own experience. I have a sense of humour and perspective on life that I would like to think is unique. So on discovering I had tumours, three in my right breast, and after an agonising three days waiting to hear if they had spread to my lymph glands (they hadn’t), this is how I decided to announce my breast cancer … This is my most potent Breast Cancer update ever. I have Breast Cancer and these have to go. My mother did not announce hers, in fact other than my father and me, no one was to learn of her disease until her death a year ago, with it, but not from it. At first, I had been cleared with a mammogram and an ultrasound. But inside me I knew it wasn’t the right diagnosis. What I want you to know is yourself. Know yourself so well that when a doctor tells you something you don’t believe, speak to another, know that the instinct inside you is right, and trust it. I cannot say it enough: early detection of breast cancer saves lives. Thankfully, my mom’s breast surgeon believed me and we got a second opinion. I had a simultaneous double mastectomy and reconstruction. Thank goodness they removed only my breasts: sense of humour and brain, largely, remain intact. I felt a pain unlike any other where pain killers couldn’t help. Now my toes curl each time a woman tells me how she understands the pain I had because when they had their boob job ‘It was sore!’ It is simple: an augmentation is not an amputation. Ever. The aesthetic they sought does not compare with hollowing out the flesh between my left and right sides of the front of my body. It has taken me six months to realize that. No wonder my body is in post-traumatic shock. Standing and sitting for long periods of time is getting better. I remember telling a friend about my relationship with the many versions of my breasts over my lifetime: new, small, sensitive, sexy, big, saggy, lumpy, how their shape changed feeding my beautiful children. There have been so many variations of my breasts that this was just to be another. ​ I am thankful to the team who conducted the surgery and the after pic below (scroll down) is of the 2.0s as I affectionately call them. They’re impressive. Bigger and higher than the first ones with minimal scarring and though I would rather have the originals (they felt so much better), I know they would have killed me. Hell no! Besides, the 2.0s have more fun! They dress sexier and more playfully. They do get more uncomfortable and need decent bras most of the time. They do get tired and need rest. They’re like those Japanese Kintsugi bowls: scarred, beautiful, useful, and above all else, mine. I am grateful. For it all. Know that early detection will save your life. I always knew that while some breast cancers are hereditary, mine wasn’t. Most don’t discriminate; every woman is a potential breast cancer survivor. I am on tamoxifen now; a drug designed to stop my body from absorbing oestrogen. Apparently some of the male bodybuilders take it to stop growing breasts as a side effect of steroids! Go figure! It has some interesting side effects. I get emotional and I know this when someone tells me a great story and I start tearing up. I get joint pain that makes me wince when I move and the irony is I have to move to help the joints. Running is hard and the before me loved running and was finishing half marathons every other weekend. The after me runs sporadically up to 5km. My first run post breast reconstruction was freaky: imagine running with shorts, with pockets in them, and a coke can in each one. ​ I openly chart my journey and have adored every comment and supportive gesture of support: eager post-surgery messages, the girlfriend who will buy me a bra next time I visit her town, the male friends who had to be the first to see the 2.0s straight or gay, a husband who walked nearly 20 miles with ‘tatas’ attached, hundreds of flowers, a protective breast cushion sewn by my sister in law, my dad who watched over me the month after surgery. Countless, beautiful expressions of love. I have learned to be gentle with myself. We moved from Johannesburg, SA to Boston USA recently and I have taken advantage of this tender-paced town I am in to relax. I am rediscovering my core. Pilates, gym, barre classes, massage, and acupuncture are attending to the physical core. Hanging out with my young people also helps as they’re uplifting and lovely. Hugging my children to my breasts still means the same thing: love, comfort, compassion and containment. I AM MORE RESILIENT THAN I COULD HAVE IMAGINED. Comedian Louis C.K. made a quip about 45 being either half way to a long healthy life or almost done. I know that life is surprisingly shorter than we expect. Unless you’re 104 in which case maybe not. I am humbled by the grace of the women around me. Courage is measured by diving into the thing you fear even though you fear it. I meet wonder women daily. We are accustomed, as women, to seeing many before and after photos. These are mine. To be honest I don’t see the difference either! Whether you’re reading this during Breast Cancer Awareness Month or not, do the regular checks and know your body.

By Roxy Hope Harrison I’ve been in remission for a little over a year. I had a rash/discoloration under my right breast and I showed it to my PCP, she said it’s probably just a heat rash but if I’m concerned I can get a mammogram done. I was only 37 so I wasn’t too worried and went for the mammogram, they called me 2 weeks later that they want to do another one so they can compare it to the first one, well, I did it they then told me on the spot that they want me to do an ultrasound. So I did an ultrasound. Then the breast surgeon came in and told me there are some images that she’s concerned about and she wants to do a biopsy. Long story short, the biopsy confirmed it stage 1 DCIS and DCIS IN SITU. The funny thing was, the cancer was on the left breast and the discoloration was under the right. To this day I still don’t know what that grayish discoloration was but if not for that they wouldn’t have caught it so early so that’s my miracle story! I had a double mastectomy, 6 rounds of chemo and now on a hormone blocker for 10 years. Now here’s the miracle of how they discovered the ovarian cancer. Right after my breast cancer diagnosis they suggested I do genetic testing. I tested BRCA 1 positive with a high chance of ovarian cancer. After chemo my oncologist said I should have a hysterectomy just to be on the safe side, well guess what, we did it for preventative reasons and they took everything out. There was a polyp on the cervix, pre-cancerous cells in the inner lining of the uterus and a tumor on the ovary. Had we not done the hysterectomy I might have needed more chemo so those are my miracles! Chemo turned my world upside down and I wasn’t one to give up. Although a few times during chemo I said I wanted to quit chemo, someone told me that quitting chemo would be like quitting life and I wasn’t ready to quit life. It was NOT easy by any means but I survived and came out on the other side victorious and can happily say that May 16, 2020 was one year I celebrated being cancer free. My memory was always bad but chemo messed it up more and now I have a 20 second memory capacity. It ruined my teeth completely. I had to have oral surgery to remove all top teeth because they were severely decayed. Within one year I had five surgeries, 3 of them breast cancer related. Not having reconstruction was a no brainer for me. I never liked my breasts and I never wanted them; they were big, I hated them. It’s sad that it took cancer to get rid of them but it was my silver lining. My silver lining for chemo was that my hair will grow back double and curly and I was so excited and looking forward to that. I always had very little hair. It started falling out when I was 16 (PCOS). I finished chemo April 10 2019. Only some of the hair grew back in the back a couple of inches but on top wasn't growing which was very frustrating. I can’t afford good human hair wigs. I tried Rogaine, castor oil and hair loss concealer but to no avail. Here is a poem I wrote about cancer: Cancer, in September of 2018 with a vengeance you reared your ugly face, You thought you can win this race. You came along and the wind out of me you tried to blow, But this tough lady was not going to lay low. You entered into my life, And wanted to cut me with a knife. Faith threatened to leave me, But it doesn’t know how strong I can be. Hope tried to dissuade me, But the light at the end of tunnel I could see. You attempted to take away my dignity, my sense of self and my health, But you can never take away who I am myself. The days ahead you wanted to steal, But no ways can you make me feel. You can’t take anything away from me, Because tougher than you I will always be. My life you thought you can take away, But I am here to show you that I am here to stay. Treatments were not easy or fun, But with everything I had in me I held on. I cried many a night, But I was positive I will never give up this fight. Even though many days I felt blue, I will not let cancer tell me what to do. Cancer was not going to kill me on my time, I knew I would be just fine. I will come out more resilient on the other side, So I rode along with the tide. Cancer's ass I will kick, And to my faith I will stick. Cancer, this warrior you will not kill, I am alive and kicking still. Above me you did hover, But I will never let you win me over. You are never going to tell me what to do, That I am bigger than you I definitely knew. I will show you who is the boss, Trying to take me away is your loss. Now that I’m a survivor I can proudly say, Out my door you shall forever stay! Read More Diagnosed with DCIS After a Clear Mammogram

By Kerry Kelly Instagram: @kerry_ann_kelly The loss of my hair was an extremely challenging part of my breast cancer journey. I had a thick head of beautiful brown hair that was down to my mid-back. I wasn’t even 7 months postpartum when I was diagnosed with triple negative breast cancer at 29 years old. Knowing that I would lose my hair was just another emotional stake to my heart during my treatment. Though the entire process was difficult, there were a few things I did that I believe lightened the blow of losing my hair. 1. Take control. Unfortunately, the hair will fall out. I took control of this fact and did it all on my own terms. I chopped my hair in my own time, donated it, and shaved my head before I experienced much fallout. I took control of the experience and shaped it into something I was doing, rather than something that was happening to me. This gave me a sense of power that helped my mental state as I traveled through the unknown waters of cancer treatment. 2. Donate. I have always had extremely long hair. I cut it “short” after my wedding (cut 4 inches off), but grew it back right away. When I found out I would be losing my hair due to chemo, I knew I needed to donate it. I researched to find a nonprofit that I would donate to and printed the requirements for my appointment. I donated over 12 inches of my beautiful hair, and I imagine that it made someone happy. I was so emotional when I received my certificate of donation, but knew that my pain would be someone else’s joy. 3. Do something you would never normally do. I knew I wanted to cut my hair short to lighten the blow of it falling out entirely. I wanted a haircut to make me feel like the warrior I would need to be to get through treatment. My hairstylist gave me a spunky short cut with the back and left side shaved. The side shaved was something that was a cool style that I would have NEVER done normally. This gave me the unique opportunity to try something new (for a few weeks anyways). I got a ton of compliments on it, and really enjoyed experimenting with a different look. 4. Call on your support system. When I told my hairstylist about my diagnosis and asked her to cut my hair for donation, we both knew it would be an emotional cut. As I entered the salon, I held back tears. We laughed as we planned out my spunky new cut. When the time came, we both cried. This was a moment of pain, but also a moment of beauty as two people bonded over a painful experience. When the time came to shave my head, my husband was the one for the job. He pulled out a chair, the buzzer, and a Pacifico. He went first, and I could barely see through my tears to buzz his head. Somehow, buzzing his head too made me feel better in the moment. As my turn came, he whispered sweet words to me. He talked to me about the next 30 years of our lives and how excited he was to live it with me. I cried through the entire thing, but was so appreciative of his kindness. Through the pain, a spotlight was set on the overwhelming amount of love that I have in my life, and how incredibly lucky I really am. 5. Be prepared with a wig or hat that you’re comfortable in Before my hair loss, I was terrified of the idea of being without hair. I had a wig fitting before beginning chemo so I could have the wig as soon as my hair fell out. This gave me peace of mind that I had a backup. I dyed and styled the wig to look like my hair. I also bought several caps and beanies since it was winter and I knew my head would be cold. My experience with the wig was complicated. I wore it 4-5 times, and felt like I was being untrue to myself when I had it on. Due to the timing, the world was stuck inside due to COVID-19, so I did not have the social pressure to be seen in public during this time. I was much more comfortable in my soft beanies and thin slouchy hats. After the fact, I realize that the wig was an emotional crutch for me. I needed it because I felt safety around having a backup. That safety feeling helped me emotionally cope with other decisions that were being made around my treatment. Though the hair loss was just one aspect of loss that I experienced during my treatment, it was an emotional hurdle for me. There is no right or wrong way to go about it, so I did my best to take control of the things I could control and let go of the things I couldn’t. Each part of treatment presented new challenges, so I kept fighting. My hair has grown back to the point that I no longer need a hat. After getting through treatment, I have transformed into someone who is not defined by her hair. I am so much stronger and more courageous than the woman I was last year, and I choose to see the beauty in that.

By Liz Benditt Title, “The Finish Line is the Starting Line” I like to think of myself as a medical miracle. I survived four cancers over 8 years: 2009: Melanoma Skin Cancer 2010: Thyroid Cancer 2015: Basal Cell Skin Cancer 2017: Breast Cancer By necessity, my approach to treating myself and my illnesses have changed over time. After experiencing VERY RARE side effects from thyroid surgery, I stopped automatically following ‘standard treatment’ protocols and took back control of my care and recovery process. I found that when I contributed to my treatment plans, I was better prepared for the inevitable side effects. Although the melanoma was by far my most potentially lethal cancer, and the facial plastic surgeries for basal cell were incredibly painful, the breast cancer experience and treatment were the absolute worst. Perhaps I was overconfident about my youth and ability to fight it / overcome it, or it’s possible my fair skin was destined to react badly to radiation – it’s impossible to know. Regardless, despite thinking I would knock out radiation and be able to continue working full time, leading girl scout troop meetings, and running half-marathons my body failed me and I was flabbergasted by my situation. There were two concurrent issues: 1. It was incredibly difficult to predict what tools I would need to go through and recover from radiation until I was in the middle of it, scrambling for bra-alternatives, aluminum-free deodorant, and burn salves. A nurse made me a mini-pillow to hold between my seatbelt and breast so that the belt wouldn't chafe. There was no central resource, website, or retailer known for all this 'stuff' and I found myself up late at night researching page 20 searches on google and amazon looking for solutions. Most of the cancer-treatments and gifts online were pink ribbon cute/sassy t-shirts and mugs – I wanted relief not stuff . 2. Friends and neighbors all want to DO something ... and they predominantly bring food/cook. It's very nice and appreciated, but honestly my husband and son are super picky eaters and would have preferred takeout. I wasn't able to exercise and would have preferred lighter / lower calorie fare. It was honestly frustrating because it was all so WELL MEANING but in reality, not awesome to receive. I chose this featured image for so many reasons – it was taken at my “Finish Line” party, thrown by my girlfriends after I completed breast cancer treatments. It was a magical night, filled with cocktails and cake and laughter. The evening was made even more special by friends who flew into Kansas City from New York and Los Angeles to attend. In addition to my incredible family, I had – still have – an incredible support network of amazing women who are so smart, kind, hilarious, thoughtful, and FUN. They know when to bring the wine and when to enforce tough love. The “Finish Line” party was where the seed for www.TheBalmBox.com started – a site featuring functional self-care and gift items for breast cancer patients. Maybe there is some crazy kismet in the universe; the past ten years of cancer treatments leading me to go from “cancer patient” to “Cancer-preneur”. I certainly hope so. Sometimes the finish line is actually the starting line. Contact Info: Liz Benditt LBenditt@TheBalmBox.com @BalmboxIG

By Tina Conrad H.O.P.E. My introduction to breast cancer started right around 9/11. I was 25, working in corporate America and watched as my whole world seemed to crumble around me. My mom called me the end of that month to tell me that she was diagnosed with breast cancer at the age of 46. That call destroyed the world inside of me. I knew I had to be strong for my mom, hold it together for her. I was a cheerleader to my mom, sending flower and cheer, attending as much as possible. I always wanted my mom to know that she was beautiful, she was strong and she was the best mom ever. I wanted my mom to have hope. At the end of her treatments, we celebrated with a good-bye cancer party with close friends and family. It felt like the end of the story. Unfortunately, the story was not finished. My mom had a recurrence three years later, learned she was TNBC and received different treatments this time. She lost her hair again and it was really difficult to find the hope. I was angry. I was so mad at God for doing this to our family, not once but twice. I couldn’t understand why this was happening. Years passed and breast cancer grew more distant in the rear view mirror, but we didn’t throw any parties this time. We slowly let out our breath and tiptoed into the future. Ten years later, I noticed a change in my breast. I was 37. I was recently promoted, recently married and very very busy in the whirlwind of life. My mom had always found a lump. But, I saw the center of my breast pulling in. I told myself it was old age. Even with my mom’s diagnosis, and 2 baseline mammos, I did everything to tell myself I was ok. I felt healthy, I was a runner, but there was that little voice quietly nudging me to get it checked out. I’m sure you all know the drill, something seems off, so a talk with a doctor that leads to a mammogram, that leads to another mammogram, which leads to an ultrasound, which leads to a biopsy, and ultimately the call that stops you in your tracks. YOU HAVE CANCER! Actually, I woke up from my biopsy a few days prior, with the anesthesia slowly wearing off to my doctor telling me to get my mom’s records. My surgeon knew something didn’t look right. The biopsy was more like a lumpectomy and it was suspicious. My mom handled my diagnosis the hardest. My mom was a 7 ½ hour car drive away at this point in my life and it was not easy to be that far away. My mom felt like it was her fault. My mom understood exactly what I was feeling and going through. From my first visit to the oncology office with all the zombie patients, I ran to my car and called my mom sobbing. To my first chemo cocktail of the all knowing Red Devil that made me throw up hours after chemo, just like my mom had experienced. Our parallel journeys. I knew I had a unique experience that I wanted to share. I had always had my mom, and my mom had always had me as a cheerleader, friend and advocate for the journey, but how were women out there finding out they had breast cancer going through this alone? I wanted to share my story and encourage others to share their stories to help make the world a little brighter and inspire hope. My podcast DJ Breast Cancer was my passion project, spurred into action after I found out a dear friend and support group friend, Sandy Clausen, had died from a metastatic recurrence. It was not enough to just have this idea, I had to put it into action! My mom is now my biggest cheerleader. She carries my business cards for my podcast in her pocket and hands them out to anyone wearing pink, talking about breast cancer at the insurance agency, or her softball teammates in Florida. We are blessed, and we know that we are lucky. Every birthday is truly a celebration of being here another year. Just like You I am a version of you Through and through You are beautiful, broken I can feel your words unspoken I called you crying No words, afraid of dying You listened and told me you knew Exactly what I’m going through You can be my light In the darkness shining bright And I will be there When you have no hair This may be our cross But it’s not our loss You are my cheerleader And I will be yours

By Liz Mover I am an ICU nurse who has been caring directly for critically ill COVID patients since March. I have been a nurse for over 15 years but this pandemic is nothing like anything else I have seen before. When I heard the vaccine would be available, at first I was nervous. I didn’t know much about it and like anything else new, I was unsure. I did a lot of research and ultimately was excited to receive it! My first vaccine (Pfizer) went smoothly and felt great despite arm soreness for 2 days afterwards. Twenty one days later I received the second part of the vaccine. About 18 hours afterwards I began to feel achy and progressively felt worse throughout the day. I was febrile to 102.2, chills, muscle aches, and headaches for about a day. Lots of sleep, Ibuprofen, and staying hydrated helped. My body reacted to the vaccine and was forming antibodies to keep me safe from COVID! Due to the high fevers, I was required to get tested for COVID and thankfully was negative! The vaccine provides me with some hope that this pandemic will end eventually and healthcare workers can get some rest and begin to heal physically and emotionally from the incredible challenges we have experienced over the past 10 months.

MEN HAVE BREAST CANCER TOO! By Michael Singer My journey began back in December 2010. You see I walked into a doctor’s office as a 50 year old male with no major illness and walked out a Breast Cancer patient. My journey takes me from first being embarrassed to now being empowered. From first being silent to now being outspoken. Now I advocate daily for Male breast cancer Awareness. I am the voice for men who can no longer speak and for the ones still embarrassed to speak. I was seeing my General Practitioner Dr. Joseph Bonanno for a general fitness evaluation for work. During the examination I mentioned to the doctor that I had felt a cyst under my left nipple. The doctor felt it and referred me to a local surgeon for a needle biopsy as this raised a red flag with him. I had been ignoring this cyst which was causing me discomfort over the past several months but never mentioned it because I had just figured it was a fatty cyst similar to one I had removed several years earlier with no complications. I made the appointment with the surgeon and brought my wife with me because anything with the word needle in it is not going to feel good and she provides me strength. The surgeons name is Anibal Puente and he is located in the Bronx. Upon entering his exam room I started to feel very apprehensive as I have to admit I do not favor needles. Dr. Puente proceeded with the needle biopsy which I have to say was one of the most uncomfortable procedure’s I had experienced and would have appreciated to have been knocked out. Needless to say I cursed a lot and sweated through the paper sheet on the exam table. The doctor could not get enough fluid through the needle biopsy and scheduled me for a surgical biopsy the following day 12-7-10 at Westchester Square Hospital in the Bronx. I remember waking up in the recovery room shortly after the procedure and still groggy the doctor came in to see me and stated he did not like what he saw and I then fell back asleep with the help of the attending nurse giving me a pain shot. I told this to my wife that night but still never thought in the direction of cancer of any type. On December 16th I went back to the doctor’s office with my wife to get the results of my biopsy. My surgeon was still in surgery that day and I met with his associate Dr. Reynolds who stepped out to get my file and was the surgeon that removed my cyst 8 years prior. When he came back into the room his demeanor was much different than when he left to get the file. It was at this moment that Dr. Reynolds informed me that they removed 2.2cm tumor that was positive for cancer and that I have Breast Cancer. The diagnosis was Invasive Ductal Carcinoma and Ductal Carcinoma in Situ. I was floored and did not understand as I had never heard of men getting breast cancer. My wife was already in tears and I asked her what he is telling me. She looked me in the eyes and said he’s telling you that you have Stage Two breast cancer. Still in shock the doctor said he would take care of this and the surgery had to be done right away. I was scheduled for surgery 12-21 four days later. My wife and I went home and tried to research male breast cancer on line and couldn’t find any comprehensive information other than it would be treated like a woman’s surgery and I would be receiving a Mastectomy of my left breast. Many feelings and thoughts had run through my mind that day and the following days looking to put my affairs in order as I had just lost my sister to a horrible death from breast cancer and its metastasis to other organs the previous year and thought the worst for myself. I have to say that my wife Patty provided me with as much love and support as humanly possible and if it wasn’t for her this whole journey would have been unbearable. I geared up for surgery on December 21st and was in decent spirits hoping I would be knocked out and wake up minus one nipple. It was at this point in the hospital that they informed me they were going to do Lymphatic Mapping first with a series of six injections around my left nipple! What shoot me now? Six needles! Where are my drugs? This made the nipple biopsy a walk in the park. It was then they finally wheeled me up to surgery. Finally I met the Anesthesiologist and I begged him to give me something as my anxiety was over the moon. After the surgeon came to visit me and introduced me to the assisting surgeon he assured me things were going to be fine. The last thing I remember was sliding into position on the operating table. I woke up in recovery bandaged like the Mummy and in pain. The surgeon came in and stated everything went well and that they had tested my Sentinel Node and non-Sentinel node and they were negative for metastasis. The next day I went home with 23 staples and two drainage bottles hanging from my chest minus my left breast, just in time for Christmas and New Year’s. My Surgeon felt I would not need to have Radiation or Chemotherapy but to confer with my Oncologist. I met with my Oncologist Dr. Fuchs also in the Bronx shortly after recovery and he scheduled me for a full body PET scan at University Diagnostics. Everything came back negative and I did not have to receive chemo or radiation. I also had a BRCA test done and I was negative. I am currently on Tamoxifen which is what they prescribe to women and I have to say it is not a pleasant drug for men and it has several undesirable side effects but I want to increase my life expectancy and this is what the medical field has to offer. I am ten years cancer free and continue to go for blood work and mammograms of my remaining breast. I have been honored to meet many fellow male breast cancer survivors and their families through organizations like the Male Breast Cancer Coalition, Breast Cancer Brothers.org and Bret Millers 1T foundation. I have had opportunities to participate in several events to raise awareness and will continue to advocate for awareness that men can get breast cancer too. Men need to have a conversation with their medical providers which will help promote awareness and possibly save someone’s life. The ultimate goal is to spread the word that men can get Breast Cancer too, that men should check themselves routinely as early detection is a key to surviving this horrible disease. Michael's accomplishments: 3rd week of October as Male Breast cancer awareness week Department of Defense Peer reviews (DOD) 2X Project lead graduate (NBCC) American cancer Society, Real men Wear Pink, Making strides against Breast cancer Ford Motor Company Model of courage warrior in Pink BCRF Campaign Cancer Divides we unite and Instagram takeover Rode with Governor Cuomo and Sandra Lee for the campaign Get Screened No Excuses Exhibitor at San Antonio Breast Cancer Symposium March on Washington DC and Held a Die In Increase in NIH 2 billion dollars for cancer research, right to try Bill, Wave waiting period for Social security disability for metastatic patients Work with organizations such as Cancerland, Metavivor, MetUp, MBC Alliance, TuTu Project Grace project Tops Off photo shoot with MBCC Times Like these Bill Becker and Bob Devito story News 12 stories, Daily News, Bronx Times reporter, GQ CBS News on Line People Magazine on line Featured on My Survival story from Switzerland Wisdo Video series Head Line News Katie Couric show with Bret Miller Richard Roundtree and Doctor Hudis Hallmark Channel Home Show

By Patricia Washburn My husband, Marlyn Washburn, was like so many other men in that he did not know men could get breast cancer. In December of 2016, however, he was diagnosed with Stage 4 Metastatic Breast Cancer. At the time of his diagnosis, his breast cancer had already metastasized into his liver, lungs, lymph nodes, bones, and brain. Surgery was not an option due to the extensive spread throughout his body, however he did attempt radiation and chemotherapy. Both were minimally successful. He took his last breath on May 26, 2017. Marlyn had been an educator for 41 years. At the time of his death, I decided it was my turn to step up to the plate to educate others in the matter of male breast cancer. I took his car and had it wrapped with my message. The sides of the car proclaim, “Breast Cancer Does NOT Discriminate…MEN TOO”. The hood of the car sports a photo of Marlyn taken on Christmas at the time he was first diagnosed. It makes an impact when I tell people just five months later, he was dead. This car is my “moving billboard” in honor of Marlyn and in support of the many men with breast cancer. After having the car wrapped, I contacted several television stations, radio stations, and newspapers in the communities where we had lived and where people knew Marlyn. Most agreed to interview me and share the story of male breast cancer. I have become a Lead Advocate with the Male Breast Cancer Coalition (MBCC). We strive to advocate for our men and to educate everyone we meet. Every person has breast tissue, therefore EVERYONE is susceptible to getting breast cancer. Do not confuse this with chest cancer. They are totally different cancers. Breast cancer can only be diagnosed through a biopsy and begins within the breast tissue. It is important to know that breast cancer does not discriminate by gender, age or race. Since my husband’s death I have been traveling the United States spreading the message of male breast cancer. I also share signs and symptoms with those I meet. In my travels I have met personally with many of our MBCC “brothers”. It is important they, and their families, know they are not walking this journey alone. We are all family, and we all pull together for each other. In 2019 I was pulled over by a South Carolina State Trooper. The ONLY purpose of the stop was to ask me about male breast cancer. I had passed him on the Interstate, and he read the side of my car. That is what I hope for with my car. If I can educate just one person and save him the heartache my husband and our family went through because of breast cancer, all the time and energy I have spent will be worth it. Breast cancer is not all “pink”. MEN, TOO!

By Aubrey Glencamp In Feb 2016, my wife discovered a lump on my left breast. I made an appointment with my primary doctor within the same week. After taking a look, my doctor just thought it was some fatty tissue, but nothing to worry about since I was losing weight at the time. I continued my life without thinking much of it, but it was always in the back of my mind. I received a call from the Woman's Health Center that they received a referral for me and wanted to schedule me for a mammogram. After going to the center, you could tell I stuck out like a sore thumb. When they called me back for my appointment, I was placed in the hallway to wait for the technician. I was pressed, pulled, and positioned into the machines for testing. My results came back with some concerns. My biopsy was scheduled a few days later. However, during this time, I was in the middle of a fitness boot camp and was the front runner in the competition for the most weight loss. Since I was so close to the end of the fitness boot camp, I requested to move my appointment out a week since it would restrict me from working out. I ended up winning the boot camp that week and went for my biopsy the next week. I received a call two days later that I was officially diagnosed with Stage II breast cancer. Receiving the call was life-changing. This diagnosis was not my first major event since I had open-heart surgery when I was 19 to remove a tumor around my heart, but this was new for sure. I sat in my car wondering how I would not tell my family the news. I was the first person in my family to be diagnosed with Breast Cancer and a male. That's right men get Breast Cancer too. I met with my Surgeon and Oncologist to plan out my treatments since I was also Her2+, which is an aggressive form of the disease. My surgery was scheduled before chemotherapy and potentially radiation. The Doctors said if we wanted children, I should visit a fertility clinic before surgery since chemo could make me sterile. My schedule was full between my appointments, work, races, etc. I was unable to get to a fertility clinic before my surgery. Two days before my surgery, by the grace of God, we found out she was pregnant. I l was determined to get through treatment to prepare to be a Father. I had my surgery and completed five rounds of chemo before my daughter made her debut. I was so excited to ring the bell after my last chemo appointment. Two weeks after my treatment, my daughter was born. I had only heard of Richard Roundtree being diagnosed with Breast Cancer but did not hear much about other guys. I take every opportunity to make sure I share my story because you never know who it may save. Since my diagnosis, I have shared my story with thousands of people through radio and podcast interviews like BBC networks, fashion shows, organizations, colleges, national magazines like Woman's Health Magazine, and many other social and digital platforms around the world. I want other men out there to get beyond the stigma of having Breast Cancer. Since men also have breast tissue, we can get it as well. I have continued to work with organizations like the American Cancer Society and a Lead Advocate for the Male Breast Cancer Coalition (MBCC) to continue to spread awareness for the disease. I live in GA with his wife and four-year-old daughter. In my spare time, I love to hike and play in the mud. You could usually find me running obstacle races on the weekend with his crew. I also love spending time with my daughter and working on her YouTube channel.

By Rifka Coleman Hello beautiful overcomer! My name is Rifka and I am fighting cancer during a pandemic. My diagnosis came as a shock. I was 37 and overall healthy and active. I am a busy mom with 7 children (yes you read that right!), working full-time, and this was nowhere on my radar. No family history and I am too young….right?!? One morning, like normal, I was taking a shower, and something felt off. My doctor was able to get me in the same day and I was able to go from finding a lump to a diagnosis is just a week. Talk about a whirlwind. I was diagnosed on February 25th 2020 with triple negative breast cancer. This type of cancer is rare and aggressive so the treatment would have to be aggressive, too. I started with 16 rounds of chemotherapy, in March, using 4 different medications. That was a grueling 20 weeks. I had a partial mastectomy in September which removed the remainder of the tumor. Once I was healed enough, I started 6 weeks of daily radiation. I was so thankful to be done with this treatment just in time for Thanksgiving. I was supposed to start my next treatment in December, but I got COVID-19 for the Chanukah. I had to undergo 5 COVID-19 tests over 21 days to get my 2 negative tests, which my Oncologist requested, prior to getting the greenlight to start oral chemo. After a month delay, I was able to start my first cycle of Xeloda, an oral chemotherapy, which is used in some Triple negative patients that still have residual tumor after surgery per the pathology. This regime is 8 cycles total; the medication is in pill form and I take it 2 times a day for 14 days, then I have 7 days to recover. I will be on this treatment until July. My hope is that after the 8 cycles are completed, so will be my active treatment and I will be able to be in maintenance mode for life. Nothing truly prepares you for the effects that cancer has on you, your body, caregivers, friends and even co-workers. As much research, googling, and chatting with survivors, which I did the month before treatment started, I still was not prepared. Let me tell you what helped me cope and deal with the repercussion’s cancer has on your entire world. From one cancer patient to another – control your controlables. We cannot control that we have cancer, what medications or chemos we may need, or even the side effects they may cause. However, we can control our reactions. We can control our mindsets, what we eat and our motivations. We cannot control the sunshine or the rain, but we can control the weather of our mind. What does this mean to me? This means I choose not to dwell in the anger, sadness, or fear that comes with this diagnosis. Sure, I had/have all those emotions (and more), especially with the initial shock. I process them though, not suppress them. I ask myself questions, like why am I feeling this way? I try to get to the root of it. With this activity I start to feel more clarity about my feelings. With clarity comes relief. Your feelings, whatever they may be are valid. You have every right to feel anything you want or need to feel. I tell my friends who may be experiencing a hard trial in their life, feel free to visit the dark place, its easy for depressive thoughts to creep in (adulting is hard), but you cannot live there. Treat each day as a new gift. It is called the present after all. Embrace the everyday moments. Before cancer, cooking dinner for my large family felt like a chore. Now, the days I feel well enough to do it, I rejoice. I do not have to cook dinner, my husband does a fine job of that, but I get to cook them dinner. Take out is great, but I get joy feeding my family’s belly, while feeding their minds at the table. Friend, whatever you are going right now, its temporary. Grab hold to your mindset and know that you are the keeper of your joy, no one else. The choice to keep it is yours.

By: Char Murphy author of “Unshakeable Power-Through Seasons of the Soul” I’ve asked myself this question hundreds, if not thousands of times over the past 17 years since my first breast cancer diagnosis. Can my breast cancer recur? Honestly, I think we all know it can, so the real question here is, will my breast cancer return ? Unfortunately there is no one right answer to this question. Worse, the opinions and science are all over the board concerning our questions about recurrence. Let me tell you a little about my breast cancer journey. My name is Char Murphy and I’m a four time breast cancer survivor. It all started in 2003 when I had a thriving law firm in Little Rock, Arkansas. I had been in practice for eight years at the time and things were going great, even though I was constantly stressed out trying to manage a large overhead, employees, work load and balance my home life. It was September of that year and I had just been named “Best Lawyer in Central Arkansas.” I had also attended a large luncheon and fashion show where the models were all breast cancer survivors with a girlfriend, not knowing I would be modeling as a survivor myself the very next year. You know the feeling, if you’re a survivor reading this. That literal ‘gut punch’, when your doctor says those four words...”you’ve got breast cancer,” and you become speechless, frozen, like a deer in headlights as my doctor told me I looked like in that moment. When it comes to the second , third and even a fourth diagnosis- that’s a whole other ballgame. And by no means am I minimizing your experiences. We’re a sisterhood and brotherhood of real people sharing similar feelings, asking the same questions. I had seen, read and heard all the statistics, ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’, on the chances of complete recovery and/or recurrence with or without radiation in addition to the lumpectomy I had. Reluctantly, I chose to undergo it for six weeks everyday, even though I knew it wasn’t or there wasn’t a 100% guarantee that it wouldn’t rear its ugly head again. I also knew, it might end my business and my career, as well as change everything about my life, forever. I’m one of the truly blessed ones, I lived through it all. After surgery and radiation, it was immediately apparent that was exactly what would happen. My doctors all said, “you can’t keep doing what you’re doing”- the stress of trying to keep all the balls in the air would kill me, or make me sick again. I tried anyway, because it’s just not my nature to give up. That lasted about 18 months and I realized more and more, I didn’t have the same stamina or energy, I was exhausted, totally worn out. My body and mind couldn’t do what I needed to get done. It was time to retire at age 50. Six months later after losing everything I owned, came the second diagnosis and another lumpectomy. Then another and then yet another...my life for those seven years before my doctor said that’s it, is still like a huge black blur or scribble of ink on a map. Conservative treatment was over and it was on to the bi-lateral mastectomy, and that’s another totally different conversation. Truth be known, even at this juncture of my journey is, the reality of the topic of this piece- can my breast cancer come back? The answer is still YES. Miraculously, I have officially just crossed the “ten year” benchmark since I went into remission after my mastectomy, the question will it come back, still looms like a low hanging cloud in my mind. I could go into way more detail on each diagnosis, the shock and disbelief I felt after each and every single one, but you know all too well, the shock and immense amount of feelings...now multiply that by four. There are only so many words to describe it. It was and still is unbelievable. I’m simply a walking, talking miracle- akin to a battery that “takes a lickin and keeps on tickin.” Your questions to me are many. How did you keep on going? Were there any warning signs? What advice would I give you if you were in my situation, facing a God forbid second or even third diagnosis? Would there be anything I would change or do differently looking back? Is there anything you can do to prevent this from happening to you? The answers to those questions are many and diverse, depending on your level of understanding the disease itself, your spiritual beliefs, your family situation, your work/career situation, your plans for the future. Every single decision we make regarding each of these questions is very personal to us as individuals. And every one of us has a different response, a different reaction. There’s no handbook on the correct way to handle anything, especially breast cancer and recurrence. If there is anyone trying to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do, or how to handle a recurrence is in my opinion stepping over boundaries. Even your physician herself can’t tell you what to do. What she can do, is give you the latest stats on the various options regarding success of certain treatments for various cancers at different stages. At the end of the day the answers for you, can only be made by you. There are a few key pieces of advice I can give you here with regard to any cancer diagnosis, or chances of recurrence and what to do to if it does recur. 1. Become thoroughly educated on the type of breast cancer and stage you were diagnosed with. Do your own due diligence and research, research, research. Read everything you can get your hands on about it. 2. Always get a second and even a third professional opinion on everything. 3. Keep all your records, your mammogram images themselves and the reports. 4. Ask the tough questions of your physicians, insist on getting the answers. 5. Don’t assume anyone else knows your body, mentally or physically better than you do. 6. Trust in your own intuition, listen to what your body and gut is telling you. 7. Pray, meditate on what you should do next. Ask the Universe to give you the right answers for next steps. Then listen and watch for the signs. 8. Self care is paramount. Do something nice for yourself, something which you would think to do for someone else in your situation. It doesn’t have to be a big thing. Buy yourself some flowers. Go out to dinner with a friend, or just order delivery in. Get those regular mani-pedis and your hair done. 9. Put yourself first for a change. It’s okay to be what some people would call being “selfish” as opposed to being “self-less”. Say no when you need to, you’re not obligated to anyone or anything more than yourself. 10. Have a team of friends and family behind you. Have someone drive you to doctor appointments, someone to take notes of everything the doctor tells you. I can guarantee you won’t remember half of everything you hear. You need to be able to really listen. 11. Do what you feel is right for you. If you’ve researched a specific procedure or drug being recommended, or told you have to do something, but you don’t feel like your body can handle that thing, you don’t do it. Just make sure you understand the possible consequences of your decision making and be comfortable with it. 12. Make sure you find out what all of your options are, then take the time to sit with them and talk it over with your support team. Determine the positives and negatives and YOU make the final decision. Then be confident in your decision and stick with it. 13. Be grateful for everything. It’s in our most challenging and trying of times which we learn our true inner strength and courage. Everything is “mind over matter”. 14. Sometimes what we thought was the worst possible thing that could ever happen, turns out for the very best. 15. Real learning, growth and positive change occurs when we allow ourselves to step into our own inner power, grit and determination to persevere through what we thought was impossible!

By David Engle, My breast cancer journey began in the late fall of 2018, just after I’d turned 70 years of age. I had noticed a slight swelling in my right breast, just below the nipple area in a self-examination in the shower. It was not painful; but it was a change and it concerned me. I scheduled an appointment with my physician. He thought it was probably gynecomastia; but was concerned enough to schedule me into a mammogram appointment at his clinic’s imaging partner in Bellingham, Washington. While I felt like this might be something of an overreaction; I was okay with being extra careful. The reason I decided to error on the side of being extra careful was due to my having heard a story in Rotary that caught my attention. We had a presenter who had lost her husband to breast cancer. She shared with us that he had ignored warning signs and symptoms until it was too late. She noted that while male breast cancer was rare, it had impacted her and her husband directly. That story was in the back of my mind while I was waiting for my mammogram appointment. I arrived at the Women’s Breast Clinic in time for my mammogram and prepared for the experience by reading an information sheet provided me. I am a relatively trim man at 6’1” and 190 lbs. and I didn’t have much in the way of breast tissue. That made my mammogram pretty challenging. The technician did a great job working with me. She did say that they didn’t see many men in the clinic; so I was a new challenge for her. I knew something was out of the ordinary when the clinic’s attending doctor met with me and noted that she saw a problem in my left breast! This surprised me as I had not noticed a problem on my left side. She wondered if I had time for a breast biopsy as they had had a cancellation and could fit me in right away. As I had traveled for several hours to get to Bellingham from Port Townsend where I live; I agreed. We proceeded with the biopsy immediately. That procedure made the original mammogram seem easy by comparison. After that procedure I left for home full of questions and heightened concern. On December 6, 2018, I received a call from my physician notifying me that I had stage 2 breast cancer in my left breast. He referred me to a surgeon in Bellingham and I followed up with a visit shortly after being diagnosed. The surgeon confirmed, through ultrasound and reading the original mammogram images that I had cancer. At that point I decided to seek advice from the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance. I knew of their reputation for wrap-around cancer care through friends who’d been treated there. Besides, I knew it was worth seeking a second opinion in this arena. I am so glad that I followed up with this idea. My experience with the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance has been extraordinary. My first visit there was characterized by a level of teamwork and professionalism I’ve not experienced before. My team of doctors met with me and my wife and supported us thoroughly as we charted a course of action and treatment. First, they did an examination that led to a biopsy on my right side (my original concern) where they diagnosed Stage 0 cancer. This had not been diagnosed in my earlier meetings in Bellingham. We scheduled a double mastectomy for January 31, 2019 and I began preparations for a different kind of winter season than I had anticipated. I cancelled my annual ski trip to Colorado in January and began preparations for the surgical experience I was about to have. I was 70 years old when I was diagnosed. My double mastectomy was deemed a success with clear surgical margins and minimal lymphatic involvement. I did not require radiation therapy or chemotherapy subsequent to my surgery. I will be taking tamoxifen for up to 5 years as a precautionary measure against recurrence. So far, I’ve managed the side effects of this drug without too much difficulty. During my diagnostic phase, I participated in genetic testing and was advised that I did not carry BRCA 1 or BRCA 2 mutations that would have led to my cancer. I shared this information with family members (I have six siblings). To date, I am the only one in my family with this particular cancer diagnosis. I continue to be a subject in a study that is looking more deeply into my genetic makeup to determine if there is any other genetic risk factor at work here. That genetic research may require up to a year of testing and study. I am in favor of finding out as much information about my cancer as is possible. I want something useful to come from my affliction! My initial response to my diagnosis was disbelief and then shock as the reality settled in. I’ve led an active, healthy lifestyle the entirety of my life. To be told that I had cancer was enough of a shock; but to be told that it was breast cancer put me in a very disbelieving frame of mind. How could it be? I didn’t even know that men could get breast cancer. I had to traverse a difficult minefield of conflicting thoughts and emotions before I got to a place where I could make informed decisions. After the shock of the diagnosis I got right to educating myself about my options. I learned all I could about male breast cancer. I used the resources of the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance (they have a great little research library space at their Seattle clinic that I used whenever visiting there) and I did my own online searches to learn more. I quickly became conversant with the medical terminology I’d need to know and became an informed advocate for my care. Also, I decided to be very public about my diagnosis and treatment in the hopes of raising awareness with other men about this particular cancer. My local community newspaper has done two front page stories on my cancer journey. They did a story not long after my surgery in January, 2019, and another follow up story in September, 2019 (my 9 month anniversary!). These stories were very well received in the community. I’ve encountered a number of men who were impacted by the stories. One man was experiencing symptoms and followed up with his doctor as a result of reading the story. He was diagnosed with breast cancer very early and is on the road to recovery following surgery. Another man contacted me who had been treated for breast cancer when he was a young man. He told me that he had spent a lifetime of being embarrassment and shame regarding his experience of the disease. He told me that my very public story made him feel free of those emotions now. To hear this from an older man was very touching. I feel like I’ve used my misfortune to help others along a more positive and constructive path. My family reacted to my diagnosis with love, support and understanding. I think my diagnosis was most impactful on my wife and children. They were as shocked as I was with the diagnosis. My elderly mother was concerned by my diagnosis, as well. She passed away on March 11, 2019, on the day I found out from my oncologist that my treatment wouldn’t require radiation or chemotherapy. I arrived at my mom’s house that day minutes after she had passed. I own a small consulting firm called Treehouse Education Consulting. I work with small, rural school districts to help them plan for the future. I’ve been doing this consulting work in the three years since my retirement as a superintendent of schools in 2016. My educational career extended from 1979 to 2016. I served as a teacher, principal, executive director and superintendent over the course of that career. I’ve worked at a national and international level with a number of educational initiatives (Fulbright Teacher Exchange Program, Smart Schools Academy, Project Inkwell etc.) and I’ve worked in the private sector (Educational Testing Service). I’ve been a superintendent of schools in Nebraska and Washington. All along the way I’ve been an active bike rider, mountain climber and skier. My cancer diagnosis and treatment is continuing to impact my life. While I’ve worked hard to rebuild my range of motion and strength following my double mastectomy; there are days when I feel mutilated and limited (the scar tissue reminds me of where I’ve been!). I continue to work on rebuilding my sense of wholeness and physical integrity. I’m not nearly as active as I was before the diagnosis; but I’m gaining ground with improved energy levels and more good days than tough days. I’ve learned to celebrate small improvements along this road to recovery. I’m looking forward to being much stronger when I celebrate my first-year anniversary after surgery. My support system includes my family and many caring people in my community. I’ve been contacted by a number of women who are breast cancer survivors who read my stories in the local newspaper. They wanted to let me know what they had experienced in their lives. I’ve been able to connect with so many people largely because I was superintendent of schools in Port Townsend prior to my diagnosis and had name recognition that I could use to advance public awareness. I want people to know that male breast cancer is a reality. I want men to know that they need to be aware of what is going on with their bodies and to respond immediately when they suspect something is not right. I want to help men understand what symptoms may look like and how to get the care they need early. My main message centers on awareness and early detection. I want to pay forward with my story so that other men don’t blunder into unnecessary suffering and loss. My openness about my breast cancer diagnosis and treatment has come at a cost in terms of privacy; but the idea that I can serve a greater good through my misfortune is a strong motivation for me. As a former public servant, I understand the need for hopeful communication and constructive ideas. I’m hopeful that I’ve done a bit of good work in that direction.

By Laura Carfang I always love meeting people who are a few years ahead of me in terms of living life after a breast cancer diagnosis. When I meet someone who is 5, 10, 15 + years out, I always ask if they could give me a hug and rub some of that longevity off on me (of course that was pre-Covid). This year, I am settling for virtual hugs. I know that a breast cancer diagnosis changes your life instantaneously. I also understand that your medical care team is going to help you navigate treatment decisions and share information with you on an as-need-to-know basis since the entire experience is overwhelming. Plus, if my doctors tried to tell me how my life was going to be one year out, let alone 4 years after surgery, I am not sure I would have believed them anyways. Before I jump into the current state celebrating my 4 year cancer-versary let me back up and share a bit about where I was this time, April of 2017. It was the eve of my breast conserving surgery , (aka, a partial mastectomy/lumpectomy) and the surgeon was going to also do reconstruction on the healthy breast to even things out as much as he could. Since my lymph nodes tested positive for cancer, a full auxiliary node dissection was in order as well. While I was calm leading up to the surgery having researched as much as I possibly could, the journey to surgery was preceded by 5 months of chemotherapy, the ACT- HP regiment to be exact. I was heading into surgery bald, without eyelashes or eyebrows, and April 7th 2017 was going to be the day they would remove the cancer from my body. What followed surgery was a month of radiation, 6 additional months of an oral chemotherapy called Xeloda , and a trial and error approach to aromatase inhibitors, Lupron and Zometa. Fast forward to spring of 2018, my pixie cut was fashionably in vogue, my body adjusted to the mood swings, hot flashes and joint pain from Letrozole and Lupron, and I was back to the daily grind commuting to work and grateful to be alive. Things didn’t snap back to the way life was before my diagnosis. I think the tail end of 2016 to 2018 was a blur yet I recall every detail; the weekly doctor visits, the infusions, the pricks, sticks, pokes, and prods and radiation burns. As I come to celebrate the 4 years since my surgery, which is what I refer to as my “cancer-versary”, below is the update on the current state of affairs. I’d like to point out that cancer-versaries are different for everyone. Some people choose the date they were diagnosed, the date they finished chemo, the date, the date, the date. There are so many dates, pick one and celebrate how far you have come no matter if you are early stage or late stage. Just celebrate! 4 Years Post -Op Fear of Recurrence: There isn’t a day that passes where I don’t think about the cancer returning. At first, it was every little cough, bone pain or headache and I’d immediately assumed the cancer had spread. 4 years later, I don’t think about it as often but I still google and remind myself of the stats and percentages feeling like I am walking in a minefield and at any moment, my world could be shattered yet again with the words you have breast cancer. Identity: You don’t need a breast cancer diagnosis to toy with the question of “who am I?” It’s natural that we give ourselves titles anywhere from “mom”, “sister”, “doctor” to “friend”, “spouse” and “teacher”. Just look at social media, people try and come up with a 150 character statement on Instagram to sum up who they are! And now, after a diagnosis, I am lost in the maze of identity. I never saw myself as “the patient” but reflecting back on my experience, that is exactly what I was, in my yellow hospital socks and blue Johnny. Am I the “survivor” because I made it through something? Am I the “person living with a breast cancer diagnosis” because it happened and could strike again? Words matter, language matters, and our mindset matters! I struggle with the words. Sometimes it’s just easier to tell someone I am a “survivor” because the term has become so common place and those not diagnosed with breast cancer understand what that means. But aren’t we all surviving something? Loss: The obvious one here is loss of a body part (or parts). But loss of a breast doesn’t make me any less feminine, or female. There is loss that comes with a breast cancer diagnosis beyond the physical. For many it could also mean the loss of ovaries, or of never having biological children. Unfortunately, there hasn’t been a person diagnosed with breast cancer that I’ve met who has said that they too have lost friends. Friends who do not know what to say, so they say nothing, they retract, they vanish. Four years since the cancer has been removed from my body and I feel like I am still processing my diagnosis every single day. Some days, more than others, but again, there is no road map. On the good days, I am sky high. High as a kite loving life, loving my breast cancer family, loving the outdoors and everything life has to offer. On the not so positive days I curse the meds, the meds to treat the med’s side effects, the lingering reminder of the long term side effects such as lymphedema , cardiovascular disease and osteoporosis. A lot of this may be invisible to someone who doesn’t know my full story, but don’t we all have a cross we are bearing? Cancer has given me perspective. It has given me an appreciation for the time I do have on this planet and to make the most of every second that I have. But you don’t need cancer to awaken you to this notion. Some wake up with the Joie de vivre overflowing in their coffee cup every morning. Others have experienced a birth, or a loss of a loved one to remind them that today matters, today counts. You matter! If I have to sum up my experience to date, or even try and figure out what life ahead holds, I don’t think I could tell you. It’s unchartered territory as everyone’s experience is unique, and perhaps that is maybe why the doctors never tell you what to expect in life after a cancer diagnosis. There is no roadmap, but somehow we figure it out. Follow Laura on Social at @LauraCarfang & IG and Twitter

by Kettering Health Network© Reprinted with permission When Jan Hillman and her husband, William, moved to Dayton in 1980, she never imagined she would still be living here four decades later—let alone that the move would prove providential. She’s alive today because of it. “We came to Dayton because William got a job as a fellow at Grandview Medical Center,” Jan says. “We thought we would be here one year.” The couple had completed their graduate studies at the University of Toledo. Their daughter was born there, and they intended to move back. But “Dayton and Grandview have a habit of wrapping their arms around you,” Jan says. “William wound up advancing at Grandview until he was vice president of planning.” Along the way, they added a son to their family, and Jan’s own career advanced, including a position with Grandview and launching her own consulting business. By 1986, they were a happy family of four, living on a hobby farm outside of New Carlisle. Until one ordinary day, when Jan’s life suddenly became anything but ordinary. “I was doing a breast self-exam and wondering, how in the world does Dolly Parton do this?” Jan recalls. “It was that exact moment when I felt the lump.” She told William, “I found a lump. I know it is cancer.” He said, “How do you know that?” “I just know.” The battle begins When the biopsy results came back, “sure enough—it was cancer,” Jan says. “I waited until William got home from work, and when I told him, he went back behind the barn and cried. Then he came back and said, ‘We are going to play the hand we’ve been dealt, and I will be there with you every step of the way.’ And he was. He never left my side. “Shock was my first feeling,” Jan continues. “Then determination to beat cancer with the help of truly great family, friends, and health care providers at Grandview and Southview medical centers. My daughter was 6, and my son was 4. I was determined to not just survive but thrive, and my motivation was to see them graduate from high school.” Jan had stage 2 intraductal carcinoma. “The lump was small—the size of a pea,” she says. “Self-exam is so important. It is one of the critical factors in early detection.” She decided to have a lumpectomy. “I had my surgery at Southview and got great treatment there,” she shares. Another diagnosis Life moved on for Jan and her family. Her children became teens. William’s career with Kettering Health Network continued to advance, and so did Jan’s: By the mid-1990s, she was a director for the Kettering Medical Center Foundation, working on a campaign for what would become the Wallace-Kettering Neuroscience Institute (now Kettering Brain & Spine). Jan was immersed in raising funds for the foundation to acquire a powerful imaging machine that uses technology called positron emission tomography (PET) to detect and identify tumors and other masses. Although PET technology had been around for a while, it wasn’t widely known beyond research institutions, even among physicians. That Kettering Medical Center had this technology at all—let alone was raising funds to acquire a newer, more advanced version—was unusual for a community hospital. In 1997, Jan went for a routine mammogram and got a callback—“the thing nobody wants,” she says. Jan had a mass in the same breast as her previous tumor 11 years earlier. A biopsy determined that it was cancer. When she received the diagnosis, Jan planned to have another lumpectomy. “I was never one to invite myself to a pity party and include others in that,” Jan says. “Instead, I took a ‘whole person’ approach as an equal opportunity healer, utilizing meditation, prayer, exercise, socializing by being with family and friends, learning as much as possible about my diagnosis, trying alternative medicine techniques, and so much more.” A surprising discovery Jan also drew on her knowledge of PET and the support of her colleagues in PET who had become close friends. “Since I knew the power of PET so well, I knew that [a PET scan] was what I wanted—to know the full truth about any other masses I might have in my breast and the rest of my body.” Jan was able to get a PET scan by participating in a small PET research study on lymph nodes that happened to be going on at the time. The scan showed that while her lymph nodes were unaffected, there was a second tumor in her breast along the scar line of her 1986 surgery. “If I’d had the lumpectomy I was planning, the second tumor would have been outside the surgical margins of the tumor that was removed,” Jan says. This discovery changed the whole course of Jan’s treatment. Instead of a lumpectomy, she had a mastectomy and reconstruction. Had she not moved to Dayton all those years ago, had she not been working for the foundation to raise funds for PET, she would not have known to ask for the scan. Now, 35 years after her first diagnosis, Jan is cancer-free. Knowledge is power Jan’s experience has made her an even more ardent crusader for PET, telling others about it so that they, too, can ask their providers if a PET scan is appropriate for them. “I am a huge PET proponent because it changed the course of my disease treatment and potentially saved my life,” she says. “There needs to be so much more awareness of the power of PET in many ways, but especially in relation to diagnosing cancer, because it is powerful, it is accurate, and people deserve to have that kind of treatment if they need it. I’ll be forever grateful that the PET technology was available to me at Kettering Medical Center.” As a two-time breast cancer “thriver” (a word she prefers to “survivor”), Jan frequently speaks about breast cancer awareness and the importance of early detection. Though the pandemic has put her speaking engagements on hold for a while, she still has a message to share: “Cancer does not take a vacation, and it does not take a break for a pandemic,” she says. “So if you are due for a mammogram, you need to schedule one and get in and get it done. There are precautions being taken—do not be afraid. Get it done.” Facebook: @ketteringhealth Instagram: @ketteringhealth Twitter: @ketteringhealth LinkedIn: @Kettering Health Network

By Beth Wilmes A Survivor's Call For Supporting The Emotional Component Of Cancer Besides rounding up at a register or two, I never thought about breast cancer- that was until I was diagnosed myself. Why would I? I was thirty-five with a six, four, and one year old. No one I knew had breast cancer and there was no family history. Funny how something can go from being the last thing on your mind to something that rarely leaves your mind. The most surprising thing to me about being diagnosed with cancer was to find that cancer was just as much an emotional battle as it was a physical battle. I like most women found a lump. I knew immediately it was cancer. I called my OBGYN and the next day went for my first ever mammogram. I told the mammography tech how anxious I was that I have cancer and felt relief flood my body when she commented that based on what she was seeing, there was no reason for concern. I said a quick prayer of thanks before she told me they’d do an ultrasound just to be sure. It was during the ultrasound I knew something was wrong. There were to many people in the room, they kept going over the same area, the techs shared looks when they thought I wasn’t looking. Then they told me I’d need to come back later that week for a biopsy. There were four masses. Four!! The relief I felt only moments before was quickly turning to dread. My previous job in a hospital radiology department gave me the fortitude to ask if the radiologist was onsite right now. They told me he was but that he was getting ready to leave for the day. I told them to please ask him to do the biopsy now, waiting days to come back in for the procedure seemed like torture. To his credit he agreed and I laid there exposed and fearful as he extracted a few samples. It was only a day later as I was sweeping my floor that I saw a call from my OB pop up on my cell. I quickly answered and could tell from the tone of her voice the news wasn’t good. She asked me what I was doing and I responded that I was sweeping my kitchen floor. It was then that she told me the biopsy had come back positive. Does this mean I have cancer, I asked? Yes, she replied. I then remember her clearly saying she wouldn’t want to have treatment if it were her. At this point the room had gone a bit hazy but I remember saying, “You mean it’s so advanced that you’d decline treatment if it were you?” “Oh I don’t know about that," she replied, "I just meant I know what you’re going to have to go through and it’s going to be really difficult.” She told me my next step was to find a breast surgeon and they’d be able to tell me more. That was the beginning of my breast cancer journey which ultimately included a double mastectomy, chemotherapy, radiation, drug therapy, and two unexpected surgeries from a complication from reconstruction and the development of lymphedema. A bright spot in my journey was being introduced to another young survivor who offered to mentor me through the process. She was in another city and a busy lawyer so our communications were primarily through text messaging. When I felt scared or uncertain about what would come next, I could reach out and she would reassure me. After I was done with treatment, I began to informally mentor other newly diagnosed patients to pay it forward. My oncologist, upon hearing what I was doing, suggested I start a program and she’d refer to it. Initially I blew her off. The last thing I wanted to do was entrench myself in the worst thing that had ever happen to me and yet… I couldn’t stop thinking about what it was that allowed me to not just survive the experience but thrive despite it. I realized it was the emotional support I was fortunate to have and I began to wonder why the emotional component of cancer often takes a back seat in the cancer care process. I also wondered why cancer care stopped when primary or active treatment did. In my own, as well as in other survivors experience, it was survivorship that was the most difficult to navigate and yet there was very little support in that way. This was the catalyst for my nonprofit, Faith Through Fire . Our mission is to reduce the fear and anxiety that breast cancer patients feel and replace it with hope and a path toward thriving. We do this through multiple programs- a peer mentorship program where we pair a newly diagnosed patient with a thriving survivor to encourage them during treatment, a partnership with Build-A-Bear where we provide cuddly bears to children impacted by breast cancer, and a podcast called Besties with Breasties hosted by myself and another young survivor to reduce isolation and provide access to information. And finally, after conducting market research and finding only 19% of women felt equipped to transition into survivorship, we created the Survivorship Support Network . The Survivorship Support Network is a free private online community for motivated survivors who want to live their best life after a breast cancer diagnosis. Now I spend my time helping other women receive the emotional support they deserve both during active treatment and in survivorship. Faith Through Fire members love that we are there from the day of diagnosis all the way to and through survivorship. We are here for as long as you need us and have found helping others navigate their journeys has the added benefit of bringing meaning to our own. Thank you for sharing your story, Beth. SBC loves you. SurvivingBreastCancer.org Resources & Support: Our Weekly MeetUp Online Support Groups Breast Cancer Book Club Find A Mentor

Meet Joyce And Connect With Her Profound Story Hi I'm Joyce, and this is my story. I had been going for early mammograms starting in my mid-thirties because of a family history of breast cancer. In addition, I tried to do self-checks as much as possible. My breasts have always been very dense and painful so I was always a wreck when I did the self-check. Never having been quite sure if I was doing it right, but too nervous about possibly getting breast cancer not to do it. When I was 44 years old, I felt a hardness on my left breast during a self-check. At this time I had been working a lot and it was very hard to get to the doctor as they only saw people mostly at inconvenient times. Instead of going to my PCP, I went to the walk-in clinic on a Saturday. In the clinic, a doctor with an amazing bedside manner gave me an exam. I don’t know if she actually felt my tumor, or if she was just doing her due diligence, but she wrote out a script for me to have me have an ultrasound on both breasts. By doing this, SHE SAVED MY LIFE, I later learned. I didn’t think much about the ultrasound until the day of, and then of course, like usual, I was a nervous wreck. As I lay there and the technician scanned my breasts, I kept saying to myself, “It will be nothing. Don’t worry.” When the technician was done, the radiologist told me that I had a tumor in my right breast, and two other suspect points they wanted to get a closer look at. I would have to have a biopsy and an MRI. I was sure I heard the word “cyst,” so when I met the nurse to schedule my appointments, I asked her, “I have a cyst right?” She said to me, “No. You have cancer.” I started crying hysterically. The nice nurse gave me tissues and consoled me. I called my husband to tell him, and then I called my parents who live in Washington, D.C. I cried and drove myself home. When I got home, I told my kids who were 13 and 11 at the time. By the time my husband got home from work, we were all crying. My first biopsy came back positive for HER2 breast cancer, which is an estrogen-based cancer. The genetic testing showed NO genetic component, despite my family history. The MRI also showed two more spots of concern more clearly, and so I had my second biopsy. That’s when I learned that no two biopsies are the same. It REALLY depends on who is doing it and where. The first was with the Head of Radiology, Dr. Kelley at Dana Farber. in Weymouth. The second was with a young doctor in the hospital. The doctor kept trying to get at the site which was close to my rib cage, and the nurse kept repeating, “You didn’t get it doctor.” After jabbing at me for what seemed like forever, they finally sent me home and told me to wait for the results. Shortly thereafter, I got a call asking me to come back to Dana Farber for a third biopsy. When I got there, I saw that Dr. Kelley was there again. It was St. Patricks Day, and he said to me, “Joyce, I am SO sorry about having to do this again, but we need to do it. It’s in a tough spot, and it’s going to hurt A LOT.” Then he proceeded to get in and out of there like lightning, and he didn’t hurt me one bit. He made it easy for me. He told me, “Now, go drink some green beer.” I trusted him completely because he made it all about my comfort. Doctors should know that probably is the most important thing for a patient: Good bedside manner . For me—it was EVERYTHING. The pathology confirmed that it was cancer. Again, someone SAVED MY LIFE because they went above and beyond. Dr. Kelley told me and my mom (MY ROCK) later that he just “knew that the radiologist in the hospital hadn’t gotten the spot” and “the radiologist in the hospital was probably nervous about puncturing your lungs and killing you.” He had been doing it long enough, he told us, to know that the spot he saw on the MRI was indeed cancerous just by looking at it. I asked Dr. Kelley to be my nuclear medicine person for my lumpectomy in the hospital. He came in early just for ME. When we met him at the hospital, he walked my mom and I through everything, and once again he made everything easy for me, and pain free. He prepared me for everything so when it happened I was okay. I had a second lumpectomy to get clear margins. I was then officially diagnosed by my three doctors, Dr. Nimbkar (Surgeon), Dr. Faggen (Oncologist) and Dr. Macausland (Radiologist) as Stage 2 HER2 positive breast cancer. Three out of five of my lymph nodes they took out also had cancer. So while my tumors weren’t bigger than a fingernail, they had already spread. Which meant chemo and radiation. When it spreads they give you the HARDCORE chemo. I had a village around me and it was the hardest thing I have ever done. Two months of the chemo Adriamycin that is nicknamed the “red devil” because it is bright red and destroys everything bad (and good), and Cytoxan (which is only a LITTLE less bad). This was followed by three months of Cytoxan and Herceptin. HERCEPTIN IS A MIRACLE DRUG. It saved my life too. In 1991, my type of breast cancer went from being a death sentence to curable . Of course, it had side effects. The top of the list is that it can affect your heart. On the advice of my acupuncturist I took COQ10 to protect my heart. Every two weeks I had to get my heart checked in the hospital. The worst thing for me, though, was the steroids. Most people look good while on chemo because they can take steroids, which helps them keep the immune system fighting, makes you less sick, and of course I am highly allergic to steroids. The only way I can describe how it felt when I took the high dose of steroids is that I wanted to crawl out of my body. For four days straight I couldn’t do anything. Not eat, not sleep, not stand, not walk. I couldn’t exist. Nothing was comfortable and time was agonizing slow. If it weren’t for my village I WOULDN’T have made it. I had to quit my job as there were too many germs in the school where I worked. I couldn’t hug my kids or kiss my husband (who also is a teacher) during this time. Also, I had just gotten hired at this school so I didn’t qualify for disability or unemployment (Thanks America!) So we tightened our belts financially and lived on credit cards. (NOT RECOMMENDED). Before chemo I had shaved my head per advice online. It did feel empowering, and two weeks into my first chemo infusion I lost all of my hair, stopped having my period, and got really sick. My infusion nurses, Anne and Jenna, made sure that I was as comfortable as I could be. They are ALL superheroes. My oncologist, my nurse oncologists, and everyone were a part of my village. Because my body couldn’t handle the steroids I kept losing weight. At one point I was one hundred pounds. I haven’t weighed that little since middle school. I got thrush (childhood disease if you were wondering) in my throat so I had to eliminate sugar completely from my diet which made it extremely hard to eat because all I could eat was liquid lunch. I couldn’t even have fruit or bread! And I NEEDED TO EAT! I got acid reflux that was SO painful, also making it hard to eat! I felt one hundred years old. I felt like I was dying. My mother would make me walk around the block every day just to keep my body going, and I could barely do that. Everything hurt in my body, and I was so tired and weak. At one point I spiked a fever that wouldn’t go away so I had to have my first blood transfusion. It was a strange feeling to say the least. I always liked vampire movies but this was NOT cool. During this whole time my mom, dad, and husband made sure that the kids got off to school, food was put on the table, and house was cleaned. (I CAN’T THANK THEM ENOUGH). Next, was six straight weeks of radiation. Dr. Macausland, my radiologist, made this easy for me, as did all of her technicians. These days radiation is such an exact science. They tattooed little blue dots around my breast that look like constellations, and zapped me 15 minutes a day. By the end of six weeks my front and back were on fire and really raw. It goes right through you! The last was six more months was just Herceptin infusions and then finally removal of my port. By that time my hair had started trying to break through. Oh yeah! Forgot to mention that you lose hair on your head, eyebrows, body, nose (I constantly had a runny nose), and ear hair (which helps you balance). They all returned, thankfully. ​I will continue to see Dr. Faggen for checkups for the next ten years that I will be on the drug tamoxifen to keep the cancer from coming back. Dr. Faggen has been the MOST supportive doctor I have EVER had. She ALWAYS has time for me, and she is always kind and patient. She even asked me to do a photo shoot with her at Dana Farber for an article on young breast cancer patients. Now I am two years “No Evidence of Disease” (what they say now because it can always come back). Now, I can be a parent again, a wife again, and a daughter again. I get a second chance. My family has started to heal slowly. We got a puppy named Asher from the Northeast Animal Shelter. He brought unconditional love in the house and joy. He brought us together. He licked our tears and made my kids smile for the first time in awhile. I am so thankful to my village for helping me through this. I am thankful for my wrinkles and the chance to get older. I am thankful for the lessons I learned. I do yoga, I meditate, I laugh, and I let go of things that don’t serve me now. I am living, to quote my favorite guru Allan Watts, in the ETERNAL NOW where life is. Follow me on IG @Joyceraskinbooksandstuff Thank you for sharing your story, Joyce. We love you. SurvivingBreastCancer.org Resources & Support: Affirmations & Meditation Guide Yoga, Mindfulness, & Cancer Online Support Groups

A Thriver Shares Her Experiences With Breast Implant Illness And Explant Surgery I’ve never been a good writer, but I wanted to share my experience with breast implants. Breast Reconstruction In 2016, I was diagnosed with breast cancer HR+ PR + HER2- stage 2 grade 2. For those of you unfamiliar hormone positive, the cancer moved beyond where it started and was growing at a moderately fast pace. Given the history of breast cancer on my father’s side, I opted for a double mastectomy with reconstruction. As it turned out, they found grade 0 on my “noncancer” side, so it was a good call as I would have had to go through treatment again. I had some concerns about recon, as I have a preexisting connective tissue disorder, but my breast surgeon and plastic surgeon assured me it wouldn’t be a problem. As it turned out it was a problem, but not my biggest problem. My initial surgery went well, and I healed perfectly... until I didn’t. I had little pain as my skin stretched easily, so I happily got fills every 2-3 weeks. The scars looked great, but the expander on the right had a strange bulge at the bottom. I was told not to worry; the expander was probably in an awkward position. I stopped the fills and waited for the exchange to implants. Several months later, I had the exchange and I looked awesome. Perfect size large B- small C- just right I thought. Within weeks the expanders were moving all over the place. I had to wear a tight sports bra 24/27 to keep them from moving. Uncomfortable is an understatement. About 9 months later, in 2018ish, I was in the OR again exchanging for textured implants that would allow scar tissue to grow into the texture to keep them in place. My PS called my husband after the surgery and his exact words were, “It was a shitshow in there." The implants had moved around so much that they tore up my chest wall. He felt confident that this would be the fix. They were not perfect and still moved some, but nothing like before. They worked better than no texture, so I thought it was best to stop complaining and be thankful for what I had. They also looked great. In 2019, I was informed that the allergen textured implants were being recalled for causing cancer. My first thought was panic, and my second thought was get them out ASAP. So another surgery, but in the meantime, I also had acute appendicitis surgery, oophorectomy, and hand surgery. I knew this would be the last one as my plastic surgeon knew my body and had figured out what needed to be done to keep the implants from moving; under the chest muscle and sewn to my ribs should hold it all in place. The left side was perfect, with a good position and no motion. The right side was migrating toward my armpit, but I could push it back, wear a tight bra to keep it in place, sleep on my right side, and use the mattress to anchor it. I found myself unconsciously holding my breast in place so I was frequently seen walking, sitting, and standing with my right hand holding my boob. (Just the image I wanted to portray in public and at the high school I teach at.) My Symptoms In the meantime, I began having constant headaches, intense fatigue, dizzy spells, dry eye, vision changes, rib pain in my back, trouble bending over (it felt like my ribs were getting tangled), joint and muscle pain, memory and concentration problems, breathing problems, increased heart rate, sleep disturbance, dry mouth and dry eyes, thyroid changes, and increased anxiety- to name a few symptoms. I spent the summer of 2020 going to and from one specialist to another. They ran tests, tests, and more tests. I was hooked up to monitors, MRIs, tilting tables, ultrasounds, blood draws... the list goes on. Interestingly, they could not get a good look at my heart because the implant was blocking it. No one could tell me what was wrong with me. For every symptom there was an excuse either made by me or someone else. My body had been through so much, the weather changes, allergies, I’m doing too much, I'm not exercising enough, I should be eating better, and my favorite, everyone is tired these days. Breast Implant Illness I saw a video on Facebook about Breast Implant Illness (BII), and it resonated with me, but I didn’t want to be an alarmist so I did nothing. In January of 2021, my symptoms were so intense that they interfered with nearly every aspect of my life. I was taking 2-3 hour naps each day and had no interest in doing the things I once loved because I knew it would exhaust me. Sitting was difficult because my ribs always hurt, so I was always lying down if I was home. I was spending thousands of dollars on acupuncture, massage, cryotherapy, and chiropractic adjustments, and none of it was helping. I was waking up frequently throughout the night due to pain, and I was gaining weight- 25 pounds to be exact. Breast Cancer Explant Surgery Finally, in March, I made an appointment with my surgeon to discuss explant. He wasn’t loving it, but didn’t fight me on it either. I asked him if he thought BII was real. (In my research, I found many PS do not believe in it). He said he didn’t know and was following the research. At least he didn’t say no. He also told me that he estimated 90% of his patients who choose explant feel better after and 75% are happy with the physical results. I scheduled explant, my 10th surgery in five years, for May 4th. I was terrified. I was scared of looking deformed, afraid my husband would find my new chest unattractive, and fearful that I would go through yet another surgery and not feel better. My surgery was delayed for an emergency, so I sat in pre-op alone for 4 hours with my thoughts. I did more crying in those hours than I had done in the last 5 years. I woke up with no headache and no rib pain. My first thought was that it must be the anesthesia. I arrived home at 10pm and went right to bed. The next morning I was feeling good, but again I thought it must be the remaining surgery meds. Now, I am almost 4 weeks out and although not completely pain free, I feel so much better. I'm experiencing no headaches, no naps, and an increase in energy. I'm still wearing glasses, but my vision is clearer. I can bend over, I’ve lost 10 pounds without trying, and best of all, I’m still damn sexy. Looking Back on Breast Cancer When I was first diagnosed with breast cancer, my prize was perfect silicone breasts. For having to endure all the treatments and surgeries, I would forever have perky, firm fabulous breasts. I was disappointed that my body had failed me and blamed myself and my preexisting conditions on all that ailed me. Now I know the silicone was the culprit. The silicone made me sick and the silicone stole 5 years from me. Reconstruction options were all I was given at the time. Not one person suggested going flat as an option. Doctors are taught that all women want breasts. There is a doctor in China that tells patients who want a prophylactic mastectomy to flat that they will never be able to orgasm again without breasts. What kind of nonsense is that? What have I learned? Sometimes we have to make mistakes to get to where we need to be. Do your research, and talk to woman who have been through it. Ask the hard, personal questions. Doctors don’t know everything. Trust your instincts. BII is very real. If you have any of the above symptoms, research and talk to people who have been through it. My body did not like silicone. For me, it was a hormone disruptor, and I fully believe the implants contributed to many, if not all, of my symptoms. Today, I feel happy and awake, and I am getting on with my life. I want that for you too. Thank you for sharing your story, Meghan. We love you! SurvivingBreastCancer.org Resources & Support: Learn About Breast Implant Illness Informed Decision Making About Going Flat Reconstruction Resources Our Weekly MeetUp Online Support Groups

Meet Rebecca, Diagnosed With Breast Cancer At 27 And Wildly Resilient I never thought I'd be diagnosed with breast cancer. And why should I? I'm 27. I have no family history. I'm not a carrier for the BRCA genes. I'm healthy and active. But still, here I am. I hope to be a voice that raises awareness that breast cancer can happen to healthy young women too! This year has already had so many surprises, but breast cancer has been the most challenging surprise yet. I'm a Latina, first generation college grad who got accepted into medical school in February, got engaged in March, and to my surprise, was diagnosed with Stage 0 Breast Cancer (DCIS) on May 27, 2020. While it was hard to process my cancer diagnosis, I was not surprised because I had spent a year having my symptoms being dismissed because of my age, health, and family history. My Symptoms On My Left Breast During the first six months, I had a large mass on my lower left breast that was so painful, I had to stop wearing bras. I had a scab with discharge coming out of it, sometimes yellowish-clear and other times red. I was told it was most likely an abscess and was given medication, but my symptoms never went away. I also felt a piercing pain coming through to my nipple, and my left breast was sensitive to touch. Sharing The News Telling my family and friends that I had cancer was difficult because I didn’t want to burden them with fear or worry. Everyone cried, but they were all supportive and positive that I’d get through this. Losing my breast wasn't as difficult to process as having to lose one nipple (TMI), and having to explain that to family/friends, along with why I chose to remove both breasts... but I focus on the positives and what matters is that I am alive and well! Get A Second Opinion I cannot stress the importance of getting a second opinion ! Mainly because you want to be confident in and comfortable with the surgeon who is doing one of your most life-altering surgeries. My first breast surgeon gave me the news that I had cancer and the choice to keep my “healthy” breast. They didn’t explain my condition or their plan of action the way that I expected. In fact, the 8 minutes I sat with them was not enough time to explain very much at all about anything. As a result, I went for a second opinion, and it was a completely different experience. This breast surgeon spent over an hour explaining to my family and I the type of breast cancer I had and what it meant, gave us a detailed course of action, pamphlets with information, and was empathetic that I had to face this at such a young age. I already had my mind made up to have a double mastectomy, and my new breast surgeon agreed that it was best for me because although I only had cancer in one breast, there was no guarantee that in the future I wouldn’t get cancer in my other. Had I kept my "healthy" breast, I would have had to take a medication called Tamoxifen, which has a very extensive list of negative side effects. (Disclaimer: according to my oncologist, I was not a candidate for this medication because my cancer was not genetic and both breasts were removed, so there would be no benefits for me.) Lastly, I'd live a life of mammograms and screenings every six months for the rest of my life! Not to mention, I'd live in fear and worry of getting breast cancer again. Next Steps Almost three weeks after my diagnosis, I had a double mastectomy and expanders put in, on June 15, 2020. While my breast cancer was Stage 0 (DCIS), my cancer cells were grade three (cancer cells that look abnormal and may grow or spread more aggressively). While I was told I would not need chemotherapy once they confirmed that the cancer had not yet developed into invasive cancer, I was told that I may need radiation. Now with medical school starting so soon, I had to discuss all of the what-if’s with my team of doctors and began to overthink and fear the possibility that I’d have to miss a semester of medical school or possibly have to delay my start for another year. Now that the cancer is out, the chances of cancer reoccurring are extremely low, and the negative long term side effects of radiation are not worth it in my case. My Dream I decided that I wouldn’t let any of this stop me from achieving my dream of becoming a doctor and due to COVID-19, my medical school classes will start online; not only will I get to stay home and fully recover, I won’t miss a day of medical school! It's not how I imagined starting medical school, but I've seen God's hand through all of this and know that He'll be glorified! A Voice I hope to be a voice that raises awareness that breast cancer can happen to healthy, young women too! Awareness and early detection are so important, so never ignore your symptoms! Know your body, and if something’s off, GET IT CHECKED OUT! Thank you for sharing your story, Rebecca. SBC loves you! SurvivingBreastCancer.org Resources & Support: Breast Cancer Symptoms How To Speak With Someone About Breast Cancer Our Weekly MeetUp Online Support Groups

Meet Rosy, Misdiagnosed At 45 And Diagnosed At 47 I’m a widow. At 45, I was misdiagnosed . A mammogram screening missed the lump. I was told it was a cyst, that it was hormonal, and that it would go away. After two years with the lump growing, I took charge and went to a different doctor. They did a biopsy and the results came back... I was diagnosed with breast cancer : invasive ductal carcinoma, stage 2, grade 3. I did genetic testing because I have 2 sisters and a teenage daughter, and I wanted peace of mind. Thank God my cancer wasn’t genetic, making me the first in my family to have cancer. I consulted 3 different doctors because I was in denial. But finally, I met a great team of doctors at Mays UT MD Anderson Cancer Center. Chemo: June 8, 2017-October 2017 Successful Partial Mastectomy: November 2017 13 lymph nodes removed (By the grace of God, all were negative.) Radiation: February 2018-March 9th, 2018 (I was given an awesome certificate!) ​I felt very proud and blessed because God had my back all the time. I am currently in active treatments (Herceptin + Zoladex), and I should say with pride and joy that there is No Evidence of Disease! My routine to keeping cancer cells dormant are: prayer, exercise, and eating a balanced diet . I have integrated weights into my exercise routine, and I walk faithfully. I call them my "faithful4Life" walks. I laugh more, pray more, and forgive more. ​My diet is not a diet; it’s a lifestyle to help me restore my health! This is my story and I am very blessed to share it with you! Thank you for sharing your story, Rosy. SBC loves you! SurvivingBreastCancer.org Resources & Support: Positive Thinking For Healing Exercise Guide Nutrition Guide Our Weekly MeetUp Online Support Groups

Meet Ria, Diagnosed With Breast Cancer At 41 Hi, I'm Ria. November On November 5, 2018, I went in for a routine mammogram. The next day, I got a call to come in for more pictures, an ultrasound, and a biopsy. They had found suspicious calcifications. On November 26, 2018, I was given the news that the biopsy tested positive for cancer. I was diagnosed with malignant neoplasm of the upper-outer quadrant of right breast, estrogen receptor positive. ​Stage 1, Breast Cancer I had NO breast cancer symptoms, which was scary. I had no family history of it. Just a couple of months prior, I had my wellness exam and the test results all came back normal. But of course, I learned that cancer is not detected that way. I went through 6 rounds of: Carboplatin, Docetaxel, Perjeta, & Herceptin. On June 21st of this year, a week after my mastectomy, my oncologist gave me the best news! He said the pathology results showed “No evidence of disease!” This meant I had a complete response to chemo, and I did not need to have radiation treatment. I was told that I was cancer free and in remission, but that I did have to continue Herceptin treatments until the end of the year and start hormonal therapy. On December 17th, I had my last Herceptin treatment. The following day, my port-a-cath was removed. Cancer is life changing. The chemotherapy physically destroys your body, while cancer itself mentally drains you. With that said, I am glad I was still able to exercise. It was, and still is my therapy. Life After Cancer I am trying to get used to my new normal. My second chance at life. I have met some amazing people through this journey. Cancer has taught me what is important in life. To take it one day at a time, and to live life to the fullest. I hope to inspire others with my story. I believe that the routine mammogram is what saved my life. Thank you for sharing your story, Ria. SBC loves you! Ria was on our podcast, Breast Cancer Conversations ! Check out this episode, featuring her incredible story. Ria was also a part of a panel discussion on Thrivership After Breast Cancer . Listen to this episode now! SurvivingBreastCancer.org Resources & Support: Exercise Guide Our Weekly MeetUp Online Support Groups

Laticia's Brief And Powerful Reflection, Living With Stage 3 Breast Cancer There is no remission for me since the cancer is present in my body and traveling through my lymphatic circulatory system. At some point it will attack one of my vital organs. I’m having a lot of difficulties paying my medical expenses, therapy that helps mobility issues due to lymphedema, and home care. My bones are also being affected. My inclination is to live a nice, rest of my life, as comfortably as possible, rather than suffering nausea and all the side effects of chemo and radiation. I’ve had a wonderful life and praise God for all his/her many gifts and the opportunity to share some of these with all the wonderful people whose paths have crossed mine throughout the years. I’ll go down a fighter as I have always been, defending myself and the dignity and rights of those who could not speak for themselves. Thank you for sharing your story, Laticia. We love you. SurvivingBreastCancer.org Resources & Support: Online Support Groups Attend an Event Listen to the Podcast: Breast Cancer Conversations

Meet Sam, Diagnosed With Breast Cancer At 29 And Writing To Heal In October of 2017, I found a small lump in my left breast, and I was so sure it was nothing important. ​ At only 29 years old, can you blame me for being a little naive and afraid? ​ Breast Cancer Diagnosis The good news is that I brought it to my amazing physician's attention within two months of the first sign of it. It turns out that I have stage 1, grade 2, invasive ductal carcinoma breast cancer on my left side, ER+ and PR+. The only person in my family who has ever had breast cancer is my first cousin who had the exact same type of breast cancer 7 years ago when she was 32. Our genetics testing is currently inconclusive, but I am of the belief that in a few years science will finally discover the hereditary genetic mutation that led us both to cancer. Until then, I want to think of myself as a scientific mystery! Lumpectomy ​I was diagnosed on December 28, 2017 and had my lumpectomy surgery less than a month later. I was so nervous because it was the first kind of surgery I've ever had, but also because the pathology report will confirm some important details. You see, they removed some of my lymph nodes under my arm to test if the cancer has spread. The MRI suggested it hasn't, but the lymph nodes will really confirm that. I am keeping my fingers very tightly crossed because if it hasn't spread through the lymph nodes, then I will probably not need chemotherapy. As excited as I am about that, I also feel a weird sense of guilt about not needing chemo when so many women with breast cancer have no choice but to go through it. I am just lucky to have found the cancer at an early stage. Right now, I am waiting for the pathology report. Financial Concerns As a 29-year-old teacher living in an already expensive part of the country, my biggest concern after my prognosis is the financial situation I will be in once the medical bills start rolling in. I'm married but my husband and I don't make a lot of money. We've worked so incredibly hard through our 20's to have enough money to pay our mortgage for our little townhouse, to work on our school loans, and to travel. Budget traveling is my favorite thing to do, and I lose sleep at night sometimes thinking about how cancer has really thrown a wrench into my short-term and long-term travel plans. This is particularly because so much of the money I worked to save for traveling (similar to how many others my age save for having kids) will instead have to go towards my cancer treatment. It's shocking how much it costs. Therapeutic Writing Writing in my travel blog, on a customized cancer page, and even here on SurvivingBreastCancer.org have been my therapy. We all have our ways of coping mentally, and I encourage other women to try writing as a means to do so. I will keep writing over the next few months as I continue my treatment with my head held high. Thank you for sharing your story, Sam. SBC loves you! Related articles: TNBC in your 20's and 30's SurvivingBreastCancer.org Resources & Support: Writing As Therapy Breast Cancer Symptoms Online Support Groups