By Triona Lonergan I’ve been chosen….. yeah, wasn’t even aware there was a competition, but here I am ….winning!!!  Requirements for entry were ever so difficult, but I sailed through without even studying! Sounds pretty elite…. But that’s just me, right   Everyone wants to belong, be part of something, feel significant, have commonality with like-minded folk. Friend groups…communities, cool kids, artists, writers, pop groups. But you cannot join my group. You only qualify as groupie. I can’t decide ‘not’ to be part of this group. When you’re in, you’re in (it’s like the mafia) and there’s no going back. No welcome letter, No Christmas card, It’s a secret Society, and you only learn of other members through whispers and nods.   I like to think of us as astrologists, Except it doesn’t matter what your birth month is…. There’s only ONE zodiac sign matters!! My initiation was not a champagne toast or round of applause as I was called to a podium in a billowing ball gown, bowing while being presented with my certificate of acceptance to the Knights Templar, Freemasons or Illuminati.   It’s a lifetime membership, with no benefits, And I made the cut!    Share your poetry: https://www.survivingbreastcancer.org/submit-breast-cancer-story SurvivingBreastCancer.org Resources & Support: Podcast Weekly Meetup s Free Events

By Marylou DiPietro July 13, 2018 – Friday the 13th  One day after hearing that I have a “very suspicious mass” on my breast.  Suddenly everything is different: the vastness of the sky, the depth of the water, the songs of  birds ricocheting across the valley.   Now there’s a temporariness to everything, a shallowness, a thinness that’s impossible to describe.   My blue pencil case reminds me of the first article of clothing that was not a hand-me-down: a  royal blue shirt with a white scalloped neckline. I only had the shirt a week when it must have  fallen out of my bag when I was walking home from a sleep-over at my brand-new best friend’s  house. I remember praying to Saint Anthony as I retraced my footsteps along the maze-like  streets between our houses. I remember thinking how mad my mother would be when she heard I  lost the shirt I begged her to buy me. I can still feel the deep sadness that the thing I loved so  much was gone so fast. A thing – like my mother’s unexpected kindness – I hoped would last  forever.  The idea of temporariness settles into my bones like an anchor. Do we really think we’re going to  live forever? Could we be that stupid and naive? Do we trick ourselves into believing we’re  immortal?  There’s an urgency now…a deep dive to recover the truth: who I am, what powers do I have?  What limits I have denied?  I’ll draw now… for drawing has given me great solace. I ignored that part of myself for so long.   July 14, 2018  Turn toward the water. Find peace and clarity. Call Sally. Do not wait for answers. Do not let  anger impinge on your ability to move ahead. Let the bad memories drift out to sea. Have faith  that your children know how much you love them. Remember that the true love of the man you  married is what saved your life.  July 15, 2018  Suddenly everything is black and white. The door is open, the door is closed. There’s no doubt  who to trust and who to love. No doubt what I want, what I cannot bear. Everything is in its proper place. There’s no illusion of control or rewards or punishments. Someone else – a doctor  – will speak the truth about my life. The words that come out of her mouth will be all that  matters.  July 16, 2018  My body is holding me captive. I cannot escape the wrath my body has bestowed upon me. I  cannot banish the cancer growing inside me. The cancer is just as much a part of me as my  hands, my feet, all my internal organs.  July 17, 2018  It’s better if others don’t know, I think. I need to share the news with those who love me and who  I love.   July 18, 2018  Suddenly the clarity is astounding. The unnecessary accouterments fall away like an outer skin I  did not know I had.   I thought I knew where I stood with my own body, but I was wrong.   So, the battle begins – between the person I thought I was and the person I have been tricked, unwittingly, into becoming.   There is never a warning – even when we think there is, there is not. Much like the shock of  giving birth. We think we know what is going to happen … we read about it in books, see it in  movies, are told bits and pieces by other women who have been through it before us. Still,  nothing, not one ounce of information can prepare us for what is about to happen.  July 19, 2018  We tell ourselves we must go forward … we must keep breathing, even though it feels like  someone else, someone you never met, is taking each breath.  My sister says she’ll put me on the prayer list. I wonder what that means. I want to say yes,  please put me on the prayer list, but all I say is thanks.  July 20, 2018  I write down the word “invasion” instead of “invasive”  I have been invaded. I am in a fog. I wonder how strong I really am.   I paint the sea and sky and hills like perfectly formed breasts, and for now, at least, I am  satisfied. Connect with Marylou:   www.maryloudipietro.com Read More: In Love with Cancer Find One Good Thing in Every Little Moment An Open Space On the Podcast: Breast Cancer Conversations The Power of Storytelling in Breast Cancer Share your story, poetry, or art: https://www.survivingbreastcancer.org/submit-breast-cancer-story SurvivingBreastCancer.org Resources & Support: Podcast Weekly Meetup s Free Events

By Joelle Cleo Valente Episode 1 - THE SQUATTER -  1 - My routine self check - How it all started In October 2023, coming back from a run, I noticed a little bump  on the top right side of my breast when taking a shower. It was barely visible to the naked eye, no pain or discomfort were noted. Puzzled, I tried to make sense of this intruder by recalling an incident on my right shoulder a week prior as a possible explanation. Keeping a positive mindset and pushing away the thought of “could it be the ‘C’ word?” I phoned my primary care physician, a no-nonsense, old fashioned woman that I trust and respect. She immediately ordered a mammogram/ultrasound , reassuring me that whatever it was, we will get to the bottom of it together and not to worry. I rang a friend for the drive to the breast center located forty minutes away from my house to brighten the undertaking . The facility dealt exclusively with breast care, an impressive building with several wings that looks like a hospital and a waiting room full of anxious women waiting. Overwhelmed and confused about my visit to such a place, I felt like an impostor intruding in other people’s business, thinking that’s a bit much for just a mammogram check up? Besides, I have never been sick in my life, and there is no “C” word in my family history . Of course I’ve had mammograms before, but the surroundings were more casual. I needed to snap out of this twilight zone presto and be present mentally. I took a deep breath, grabbed a glass of water from the cooler and sat back waiting for my turn. A strong nudge from my friend Pam woke me out of my stupor. “Hey! they called your name twice already,” she whispered. “I’ll be outside waiting for you when you’re ready, chin up girl.”  2 - The exam - May the show begin After a ritual checking in, a nurse came to pick me up, instructing me to remove my clothes from the waist up in a cool and collected manner that demanded no more inquiry from me. “Put on a gown and wait in the designated area, someone will come and get you.”  My name was mentioned again as a new woman in her early 30s stepped in, introducing herself as the technician in charge of mammograms, displaying a warm smile as he could sense my angst. She was very pleasant, apologizing in advance for the breast squeezing, flattening, pretzel twisting positions, cold surface and cold hands.  “Almost done,” she claimed, “one down, one more to go.” I knew she was trying to make me feel at ease, but it wasn’t working – by no fault of her own. Apprehensive to ask, I mumbled something like, “Did you find anything?”  “Your left breast is clear, but it seems that your right breast needs further exams ,” she replied calmly, offering me a lollipop to seal the deal as we walked to the ultrasound room, where I was barely greeted by another lady in her 50s with a stern demeanor who clearly didn’t want to be there. She briefly described her next move and went on with the painless “transaction.” I tried to relax and clear my thoughts, but my heart was pounding and my cloudy brain kept on shouting, “Get out of there.” What's with this place that made me feel so uncomfortable?  I didn’t recognize myself. Once again I blabbered something like, “Did you see anything significant for me to worry about?” She dismissed my request immediately with a cold, “Front desk will proceed with your checkout and will inform you about a follow up if necessary.” In a hurry to get me out the door, she blurted a “Yeah right” when I wished her a good day, which she clearly needed. Happy to change into my civilian clothes, I was back again in the main waiting room packed with newcomers scrambling to find seating, puzzled by this insane scene of women, young, old, alone or flanked with friends or family members, for “the” special visit, I couldn’t help thinking how insane this was. Who are all these women? Why so many? Is there an epidemic of some sort I’m unaware of?   I was asked to wait again for my paperwork by one of the front desk girls – they were girls really, in their early twenties, cackling as they couldn’t pronounce anyone’s name correctly and didn’t care to, doing it as their distraction for another boring day at the office.  Another forty-five minutes went by before my name was voiced for the last time (I hoped). I was told that a biopsy was scheduled for the following week , asking me to contact my doctor for more details, giving me my walking paper with no more details besides how to prepare for the procedure.  I guess that was all for today, folks!  I lastly stepped out of the facility looking for Pam, I breathed deeply, and felt such a relief. I realized that the energy inside these walls was full of pain, suffering and mental anguish that triggered my uneasiness and panic mode. I made a mental note to protect and prepare myself for my next appointment to the collective heartache that place was.  The drive home was a cinch. I kept on taking deep breaths, feeling more at peace with the next exhale. Pam was chatting away, explaining that she had to leave the waiting room because “the air was suffocating.” Those were her words, I wasn’t crazy! Pam felt it, too.  The next day I phoned my doctor to chat about the next step, the biopsy, as she outlined the procedure as being a positive move to the next step in making the right decision and action toward recovery. She continued her positive reinforcement by saying: “We’re no longer in medieval times my dear, all will be resolved in due time, trust me.” She’s such a peach!  I sensed that a new chapter of my life was about to unfold , calming myself with the understanding that my combative nature and sense of humor would overcome these fears, noticing that the unknown was my enemy at this time. “One day at a time” was my new motto, reminding myself that I have walked through many storms already and emerged enlightened by the lessons I have learned.  “Everything that shows up in our lives has something to teach us” - Wayne Dyer To be continued … Joelle Cleo Valente  AKA: Cleo Valente is an award-winning filmmaker with two decades of experience in the entertainment industry, working for major networks as a writer, producer, for major shows and independent productions.  Contact: realgrlproductions@gmail.com   https://bio.site/CleoValente Read More: Breast Cancer Symptoms Breast Cancer Risk Factors Supporting Loved Ones with Breast Cancer: How to Offer Meaningful Help Breast Cancer Story: The Waiting Room On the Podcast: Breast Cancer Conversations The Power of Storytelling in Breast Cancer Share your story, poetry, or art: https://www.survivingbreastcancer.org/submit-breast-cancer-story SurvivingBreastCancer.org Resources & Support: Podcast Weekly Meetup s Free Events

By Samantha Kuhr Ten years ago, my “normal busy” life came to a crashing halt when I heard those infamous words: “I’m afraid it’s cancer.” I was a 43-year-old mom of two very active boys, wife of 17 years, active, non-smoker, with no family history of cancer. We work hard and play hard. Perfect, right? It turns out none of that mattered when I was unexpectedly diagnosed with stage 2, grade 1, invasive breast cancer. I had no indication that my body was being invaded and felt no lumps. In fact, I ran six miles the morning my medical team discovered two tumors and a third suspicious calcification area during my routine mammogram.  As a mother, I needed to not only process this diagnosis and manage how my body felt, but I had my young children to worry about , too. Once I had complete testing to know exactly WHAT I was dealing with AND what the path forward would be, I sat with my boys and told them mummy has cancer. I’d immediately be undergoing a sentinel lymph node biopsy, a double mastectomy, and lymph node removal. BUT here’s what that means, and I reassured them I would be okay (like I had a crystal ball or something!).  Julian’s first words were, “Are you going to die, mummy?” Seeing his little face tremble was the hardest part. It was incredibly jarring. I vacillated between shock, fear, sadness, and frustration watching my family suffer alongside me, as I tried to make sense  of this out of control freight train headed towards me.  The anxiety of waiting on pins and needles for test results is now part of my new normal. I’ve experienced a marathon of tests, scans, and surgeries from a sentinel lymph node biopsy, double mastectomy, tissue expanders, PET scans, bone scans, multiple implant exchanges, and everything in between. My late-night negotiations with the universe still weigh heavily on my scarred heart. I’ve spent countless hours lying in various scanning machines (and still do), begging and praying for good news. The fact that life could be taken in an instant was never more clear to me. Then came deciphering the doctor-speak, and I had to make choices that would ultimately determine the course of my life, as if I was picking out what knickers to wear. I was forced to become an expert in tumor markers, genomic profiling, Ki-67 levels , medical insurance, Tamoxifen side effects   – it was all very overwhelming and exhausting. Yet losing focus and flinching for one moment could be the difference between living and dying. I thought a team of doctors would tell me what to do, but I discovered that this is science and they are all “practicing” medicine. Ultimately, I had to make my own   decisions about surgery and treatments. We pondered such delights as potential recurrence and survival rates versus percentage of potential side effects for chemotherapy and radiation. And  as Hot Hubby pointed out, I decreased my survival rates by driving to these appointments with the crazy LA drivers out there each day! At some point during this nightmare, my oncologist dangled the carrot: “ If we reach 10 years cancer-free, your risk of recurrence drops significantly .” Well, challenge accepted! Ta-da, here I am 10 years later, still standing, and at the risk of being cautiously celebratory, I am taking a moment to do a little victory lap.  The truth is, I’ve lost count of my seemingly endless surgeries and procedures, and I’ve fought many private battles over the past 10 years. What still shocks me is how this disease came from nowhere. I had no family history, felt no lumps, ran six miles the day of my diagnosis, and had never felt more healthy. Who’d have guessed my own rogue cells were plotting a coup? The harsh reality of cancer is that not everyone survives the fight. What’s humbling and quite evident is that my outcome wasn’t decided by medical treatments and lifestyle changes. I didn’t “fight harder” than other cancer patients. I did everything medically possible to rid my body of this disease, but ultimately I had to accept my unpredictable course of fate. And if you know me, that was the hardest part. Cancer turned out to be my unexpected teacher, forcing me to squeeze joy out of the ordinary and to cherish my loved ones. Now, little things; the sound of rain, the smell of my morning coffee, my ability to hike up a hill, or simply laughing with my boys… all these simple pleasures now feel deeply significant.  So I’m here to remind you that cancer is sneaky, and can show up when you least expect it. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE take a minute today to give yourself a quick self-check, schedule regular annual checkups, and embrace the friendly mammogram machine.  Early detection is my superhero. Remember, if something feels or looks off, get it checked. My survival is a testament to the importance of regular health screenings, a practice I value now more than ever.  Join me in this party of life and survival on Instagram  and Twitter ! Read More: Understanding Your Pathology Report HOW? They Were My Blessing: Facing Breast Cancer With Young Kids Parenting and Breast Cancer 7 Things To Never Say To Someone With Breast Cancer On the Podcast: Breast Cancer Conversations Preparing for Breast Cancer Surgery: What You Need to Know Share your story, poetry, or art: https://www.survivingbreastcancer.org/submit-breast-cancer-story SurvivingBreastCancer.org Resources & Support: Podcast Weekly Meetup s Free Events

By Sue Goodchild It all started on a sunny day in July 2024 when I received an invite to go for a mammogram . I opened the letter, read it, and put it to one side. At the age of 67, the thought of having to take everything off from the waist up fills me with embarrassment, what bra shall I wear, does it fit nicely, will they think that I’m fat, all of you ladies will know what I mean. A few days later I picked up the phone and made my appointment. With the date and time arranged, I carried on with life as normal. I had always been for my mammograms when invited, as one day they could save my life . Little did I know then how important this particular mammogram would be and how the next few weeks would change my life. At my mammogram appointments, there are no men. The whole thing is done by a very professional group of ladies, who talk me through what is about to happen, how to stand, where to put my arms, and the like. The machines are huge and are programmed to take scans of my breasts and underarms at all angles. I remember thinking, “I hope the machine doesn’t take on a mind of its own,” as it could be painful and leave me with an extremely flat chest in all the wrong places. But seriously, mammograms may be a little uncomfortable, but that’s it. Before I know it, it’s over and I’m getting dressed. No one cares what shape I am, what size my boobs are or anything like that — they have a very important job to do. Now normally in the past I would receive an all-clear letter, but this time, I was invited back for more investigations. On reading the letter, a little bit of fear ran though my body. In total denial, my mind started talking to itself... “It has to be wrong,” “I don’t have anything wrong with me,” all sorts of reasoning was going through my mind. I then thought, “Why shouldn’t it happen to me? I’m no different to anyone else.” I showed the letter to my husband. He said that it is what it is, and whatever it is, we will deal with it.  The day came for my visit to the breast clinic. I gave my name to the receptionist and took a seat in the waiting room with my husband. There were a few ladies there waiting with me, and I was watching as they came and went for their appointments. A nurse then called my name, and in I went to see the radiologist. He was a very nice gentleman sitting in front of his computer, which had two screens. He welcomed me in and said that he knew a lot about me. I thought, “Oh no!”  When I looked at his desk, he had all of my previous mammograms in front of him. On the screens he had the scans of my boobs. I remember thinking, “My god they’re big,” but then he would have to have them large on the screen so I could see what he wanted to show me.  He explained that he had noticed something suspicious  on my left breast that had been there since 2012, but had changed. He said that he was going to do some biopsies and asked me to lay on the couch while he gelled me up and used a scanner to find what he thought was suspicious. An injection was given in my boob to numb what he was about to do, but I have to say this whole procedure was very painful indeed.  He took four biopsies and put a titanium tag in my breast at the suspicious location so if it turns out to be cancer, it can be found easily. He said that the titanium tag won’t go off in Gatwick airport security. I wait to get confirmation of this in a few weeks when I go on holiday; I hope he is right, as it could be a little awkward. I then got dressed and left to go home. I was advised that they would be in contact with the results in about two weeks. The follow-up letter came inviting me back for the results of the biopsies. I met with a lovely team of nurses who were very caring. I felt sure that the results wouldn’t be anything serious, but I was about to have the biggest wake-up call ever. They advised me that it was cancer, but assured me that it was small and had been caught early. I was told that it was a 14mm grade 1 invasive ductal carcinoma (breast cancer). The consultant advised me, I was given a lot of information to read , and an appointment was made for me to meet the consultant and arrange a date for surgery.  Not long after, I met with the consultant, who told me that a lumpectomy would be done to remove the cancer and that my lymph nodes would be biopsied. It was Thursday, and as I sat there, she advised me that the following week there was an opening on Wednesday. I was so tempted to say, “Leave it for a few weeks,” but my friend who was with me said to get it over and done with, so the following Wednesday was booked. I don’t know if I am naive, but I thought I would be going in, having the tumour removed and sent home for recovery. I can tell you that there can be a lot more to it.  On Monday, I went to the hospital for a check-up, blood tests, and ECG to make sure I was safe for a general anaesthetic. On Tuesday, I went to the nuclear department at another hospital to have a sentinel node scan and a radiopharmaceutical injection in my boob the day before my operation. Then on the day of the operation, I had to be at the breast clinic by 10:30 a.m. to have a wire inserted into my left breast that would help the consultant find the tumour more quickly. To me, this seemed like something out of a horror film: this long wire sticking out of my boob. I thought, “How am I going to get my clothes back on with this?!” The nurses rolled it up and taped it down before sending me for more mammograms to make sure it was in the right place. Myself and another lady were taken across to the main hospital to get ready for our operations. The other lady went down first, with me going down at just after four in the afternoon. I woke up in the recovery room at just after six in the evening and was then taken to the ward. I wasn’t in there for long, but they wouldn’t let me go until I had a wee, and I was surprised that it was blue! This was due to the dye injected during surgery. It wasn’t long before I was up, dressed, and ready to go home.  Since my original first meeting at the breast clinic, life went really quickly. I am pleased to say that I am now clear of breast cancer and healing slowly but surely. I cannot thank the radiologist, the consultant, the nurses , and everyone else involved enough for their never-ending support and care. I don’t have to have radiotherapy, but I do have to take letrozole hormone therapy and Adcal-D3 (a calcium and vitamin D3 supplement) for five years and have mammograms annually. But other than that, I now look forward to a full recovery and being able to wear a bra without it being uncomfortable. My advice is to always go for your mammograms no matter how embarrassing you think they are. They will save your life. Secondly, make sure you have a very comfortable bra that fits nicely over your boobs and doesn’t rise too high under the arms, just in case your lymph nodes are tested. If you have ample boobs like me, you will be grateful that they are under control post-surgery.  I must say a big thank you to the wonderful team at the West Sussex Breast Clinic, the consultant and team at Worthing Hospital. Read More: Understanding Contrast-Enhanced Mammography Breast Cancer Symptoms Understanding Your Pathology Report: A Comprehensive Step-By-Step Guide Nurse Navigators: Your Guide Through Treatment On the Podcast: Breast Cancer Conversations The Power of Storytelling in Breast Cancer Share your story, poetry, or art: https://www.survivingbreastcancer.org/submit-breast-cancer-story SurvivingBreastCancer.org Resources & Support: Podcast Weekly Meetup s Free Events

By Nicholle Chadwick Some mornings I wake up thinking or maybe it’s me pretending to be just a normal person, but then I put my fingers through my hair and it all flashes back like a bad nightmare. I remember that the reason I have little hair is because I recently had to fight for my life and the fight is something that I’ll always have to do.  It was 2022, a day before my thirty-seventh birthday. Everyone in my house was fast asleep. I got up and went to the bathroom, and before climbing in bed I reached over to grab some chapstick and rubbed against my right breast by pure accident. Little did I know that my life changed in that moment. I felt a lump .  The lump was hard, almost like a small BB from a BB gun, but I told myself that it was nothing and went to sleep. I waited a few days and decided I should probably tell my boyfriend, who happens to be a radiologist. He then discovered several lumps. I decided not to freak out because I was young  and had no family history of breast cancer, but I made an appointment at my OB’s office. They got me in relatively quickly and did an exam. The NP’s words were, “You have pretty lumpy breasts so it’s probably nothing, but we will order a mammogram and ultrasound just to be safe.” As I awaited these tests I had several talks with my boyfriend without any worry; that if anything it was just a cyst. I went in for my exams without much anxiety and without answers. The exams came back inconclusive, so an MRI had to be ordered. I started worrying a little just because I wasn’t sure why I needed further tests if I just had lumpy breasts , but then again, I reasoned it as that. So I went for the MRI. The breast MRI was one of the most uncomfortable things I had done at this point in my life. I was not ready to be face down for an extended period of time, but I got it done. Those results stated I needed a biopsy, so of course I went ahead and got that scheduled. Up until the night I received a call from the breast surgeon, I remember saying, “There’s no way I have cancer, I have no family history and I’m too young.” The last time I said that was the night before my surgeon called.  That call is one that I’ll never forget. I had really bad phone service at that time, so the first time I answered I couldn’t hear the surgeon on the other end. I didn’t know the number and I was working, so I just hung up. The second time, I answered rudely and had her on speaker phone. There was a day off of school and I was working from home, so my son was standing right outside my bedroom door; at this time he was 14. All I remember the surgeon saying is “It’s cancer, but treatable.” Everything in the entire world changed for me at that very moment . I was upset about how I found out, how my son found out at the same time, how I doubted I could ever have cancer, how I didn’t educate myself more of the possibilities. I just kept thinking, “How? And now what?” Life got very real after that. I was in the process of changing jobs. Luckily my new boss was understanding, as I am a mental health therapist and was going to need some of my own time to process my new diagnosis. My father (well… at the time, the man I thought was my father) died one week after my diagnosis, and as the only child I had to settle all of his affairs. I then found out that I tested positive for the BRCA 1 gene mutation , but again, HOW? I had no family history. So, I decided to do an ancestry test in the middle of chemo and all the pain associated with this new diagnosis. I found out that my biological father was a man I never knew , and that he carried the BRCA 1 gene mutation. I also found out that ovarian and breast cancer run heavily in my biological father’s side of the family. Again, I was left with the question: HOW? I felt like everything I knew about myself was wrong, and I wasn’t sure what to do. The only thing I could do was FIGHT. I fought my diagnosis by showing up for chemo every week despite the reactions, the low blood counts, and the negative feelings. I fought for my kids and my family. I decided that I could fight back by spreading awareness because anyone can get breast cancer, it doesn’t matter how old you are or if you think you have family history or not.  I spent so much time doubting I had cancer that I never thought about the possibility that I had it and what it meant. What it meant was that I had chemo for the next eight months (12 rounds of carboplatin, Keytruda, Taxol and then Adriamycin-Cytoxan and Keytruda), then a double mastectomy, and then thirty rounds of radiation.  My genetic mutation also means that my children have a fifty percent chance of developing the BRCA gene mutation . I also am at an increased risk for melanoma of the skin and eyes, pancreatic cancer, and ovarian cancer. I have more surgeries scheduled, including an exchange surgery for my breasts as well as an eventual hysterectomy and monitoring every three months.  Even though the “hard” part of chemo is done, I have constant reminders – whether it’s my short hair or the yellowing of my nails – that my life is far from normal. My new normal has been hard to find, but I’m taking it one day at a time. I am thankful that despite the hard days, I got up and fought every day for my kids. I never lost track of my reasons. Cancer is tough, but I believe that I am tougher because of my support system . I am thankful to have a care/medical team that constantly makes sure I am doing what I need to be doing so that I can continue to outlive cancer. I’ve decided that 2024 is my year of travel and my time to give back whatever I can to those in the community that need extra support emotionally. So here’s to living and enjoying instead of just surviving.  Connect with Nicholle on Instagram Read More: Breast Cancer in Young Women: Common Questions Answered Understanding Genetic Testing for BRCA1 and BRCA2 Mutations They Were My Blessing: Facing Breast Cancer With Young Kid s On the Podcast: Breast Cancer Conversations Understanding the Complexities of Genetic Testing Share your story, poetry, or art: https://www.survivingbreastcancer.org/submit-breast-cancer-story SurvivingBreastCancer.org Resources & Support: Podcast Weekly Meetup s Free Events

By Victoria Ramirez I always thought of myself as a planner. I had a master’s degree, a career in clinical research, a supportive partner, and a future I thought I could predict. But in June 2023, at 31 years old, I found myself facing a reality I never saw coming: stage 2 triple-negative breast cancer . Before my diagnosis, my life revolved around deadlines, meetings, and goals. Like many women, I often put others’ needs ahead of my own , pushing through exhaustion and stress, believing that if I could just finish one more project or take on one more task, everything would eventually fall into place. I thought I was invincible, assuming breast cancer was a concern for an older version of myself. But everything shifted one day when I felt a small, unassuming lump on my breast. My initial reaction was denial. I was too busy, too young , too healthy  for cancer—right? But something deep inside told me not to ignore it. I scheduled a doctor’s appointment, and within days, I was thrust into a whirlwind of tests, biopsies, and anxious waiting rooms. The day I heard, “It’s cancer,” everything else fell away. Triple-negative breast cancer (TNBC) is known for being aggressive and more likely to affect younger women, particularly women of color. Suddenly, I was part of a statistic I didn’t even know existed. The next few weeks were a blur of fertility preservation , chemotherapy plans, and preparing for the unknown. I chose to be proactive and freeze my eggs before starting treatment, knowing that chemo could impact my ability to have children. While my friends were planning weddings or family vacations, I was bracing myself for the fight of my life. I lost most of my hair after the second chemo session. It seemed like such a small thing compared to everything else, but watching clumps fall out in the shower was devastating. It was a moment where the reality of what was happening truly sank in. I didn’t recognize the woman staring back at me in the mirror. But as much as the physical changes were challenging, it was the emotional toll that really took me by surprise. I felt like I was losing parts of myself—my energy, my confidence, and even my identity. However, as I moved through treatment, I found strength I didn’t know I had. Each chemo session became a small victory. Each day I woke up feeling even slightly okay was a reminder that I was still here, still fighting. I leaned heavily on my family, my partner, and the few friends who truly understood what I was going through .  After five months of chemotherapy, I had a double mastectomy. It was the hardest decision I’ve ever made, but I knew it was necessary. There were moments when I doubted myself, times when the fear of the unknown felt suffocating. But in the midst of it all, I began to see my journey as more than just survival —I saw it as an opportunity to redefine what strength and resilience looked like. Now, in survivorship, life feels different. I’ve had to confront the reality that “normal” may never return. There are scars, both physical and emotional, that will never completely fade. But I also see how this experience has shaped me in ways I never imagined. I have a new perspective on time, relationships, and self-advocacy . I learned to say no, to prioritize my health, and to speak up when something doesn’t feel right. This journey has taught me that I am capable of withstanding more than I ever thought possible. Today, I’m passionate about using my story to raise awareness, particularly for young women and women of color . There are so many of us who fall through the cracks, who are told we’re “too young” for this diagnosis, who struggle to find resources and support that reflect our experiences. I want to change that. I hope to use my voice to empower others to pay attention to their bodies and prioritize their health. Cancer is a chapter I never expected to be written into my story, but I’m determined to use it to make a difference. While my scars may serve as reminders of a difficult journey, they are also symbols of strength, survival, and the promise of a future I’m still planning —one that I hope will be even more impactful than I ever imagined. Connect with Victoria on Instagram Read More: Breast Cancer in Young Women: Common Questions Answered Different Types of Breast Cancer The Promise of the Triple Negative Breast Cancer Vaccine Breast Cancer and Fertility On the Podcast: Breast Cancer Conversations Jacquie Carter Angell: Balancing Business, Motherhood, and mTNBC Share your story, poetry, or art: https://www.survivingbreastcancer.org/submit-breast-cancer-story SurvivingBreastCancer.org Resources & Support: Podcast Weekly Meetup s Free Events

By Emerald van Wyk One fateful morning in July 2019, my world shattered as I discovered a lump in my breast . A wave of sheer terror crashed over me, leaving me breathless with fear. Desperate and trembling, I immediately reached out to my general practitioner, Dr. Lakha. His promptness in setting up an appointment for further investigation felt like a lifeline, yet the dread only deepened when he confirmed my worst nightmare. Dr. Lakha confirmed that there was a lump present and that further investigation would need to follow. Without hesitation, Dr. Lakha referred me to the hospital radiology department and within a week, I held the results in my trembling hands. The word “biopsy” echoed in my mind, shattering my spirit. But this was just the beginning of an uphill battle. My medical savings were depleted, leaving me helpless in the face of the biopsy’s daunting cost . The irony of my situation was not lost on me – I felt both relieved and trapped. On one hand, I was grateful for the brief reprieve, a moment to brace myself for the possibility that the lump might be malignant. But the crushing reality remained: time was of the essence, and every day I waited brought me closer to an uncertain fate. In my darkest hour, I confided in my dear friend, Vanessa, explaining that I would have to wait until January 2020, when my medical savings would renew, to undergo the biopsy. Her concern was palpable, but all she could offer was her prayers. Little did I know, God had sent me an angel in the form of Vanessa. A week later, she called me with urgency, urging me to see Professor Carol-Anne Benn ( a renowned surgeon and breast-disease specialist) at Helen Joseph Hospital in Johannesburg, South Africa. Vanessa assured me that Professor Benn wouldn’t turn me away, as she was a champion of equal healthcare for all. That phone call felt like a ray of hope breaking through the suffocating darkness. When I finally met with Professor Benn, she didn’t hesitate. A biopsy was scheduled immediately. At that moment, I couldn’t help but feel that Vanessa had opened a door I hadn’t even known existed – God’s grace working through her. The days leading up to my biopsy were agonising. On the morning I was to receive the results, my anxiety reached a fever pitch when I learned that Professor Benn had been called away to an international conference. Another week of waiting. Another week of torment. I clung to my Bible, finding solace in its pages as I prayed for strength to endure. Finally, the day arrived. I sat down with Professor Benn, her words forever etched in my memory: the lesion in my right breast was malignant, but it was a slow-growing cancer. Invasive ductal carcinoma , stage 1. My world crumbled in an instant. The weight of that diagnosis was unbearable, like a heavy load of bricks on my back. The news was a devastating blow, one that left me debilitated for days as I struggled to comprehend the enormity of what lay ahead . Yet, somehow, I found myself at Professor Benn’s practice at Milpark Hospital, greeted by a compassionate young woman named Zamo Mguli, the navigating nurse . Zamo’s kindness pulled me from the abyss, guiding me through the overwhelming process that lay ahead. For the first time in days, I felt a glimmer of hope, a determination to confront the demon growing inside me. But the news kept getting worse. The MRI at Rosebank Clinic in Johannesburg, South Africa revealed more lesions, smaller but no less terrifying. I remember leaving the clinic, tears streaming down my face, overwhelmed by the horror of it all. Yet, even in my despair, I found a spark of positivity when I learned that a disciplinary committee of experienced doctors would decide my treatment plan. I knew then that God was guiding them, and I placed my faith in their hands. The call came soon after, and the navigating nurse informed me that I would undergo a lumpectomy with reconstruction surgery, followed by radiation. The news brought a mix of relief and fear, but I knew I had to fight with every ounce of strength I had. On November 14, 2019, my 90-minute operation was performed. I woke up the next day, surrounded by machines, my body fragile and my mind racing with fear. Being diabetic complicated everything, but with the careful management by Dr. Barend, the surgery was a success. Still, the aftermath was gruelling. I returned home with two drains attached to my body, a constant reminder of the battle I was waging. The pain was relentless , and the challenges seemed endless, but I pressed on, determined to heal. Radiation began on January 21, 2020, and continued for 31 excruciating days. This was the most harrowing part of my journey. The anxiety was suffocating as I lay motionless, positioned in precise angles, terrified of making a wrong move. But I wasn’t alone. The other women undergoing treatment shared my fears, and their tears became my comfort. We were in this together, and somehow, that made it bearable. I am eternally grateful to the multidisciplinary team who cared for me with such compassion and professionalism. To the radiation team at Netcare Clinton, your patience and dedication were a beacon of light during my darkest days. You treated me with kindness and understanding, even when I was at my lowest. And to my oncologist, Dr. Ramdas, who saw my anxiety and immediately referred me to my psychologist, Monica Austen – your holistic approach saved me. But the road was far from over. During my annual gynaecology visit, my doctor discovered a large lump inside my uterus. Concerning factors were the sheer size of the lump and its placement (under usual circumstances, a lump like this is located on the uterus wall, making removal easier – but in my case it was in my uterus, making removal more risky). Being a breast cancer survivor and a diabetic patient added to my risk factors, so my gynaecologist and oncologist agreed that the best course of action would be hysterectomy. On May 25, 2020, I underwent my hysterectomy. The prayers from various churches enveloped me, and I give God all the praise and glory for guiding me through yet another trial. God’s presence was undeniable throughout my journey, sending angels to support me along the way. On September 29, 2020, during a consultation with Dr. Ramdas, I received the words I had longed to hear: I was cancer-free . The Lord’s mercy and grace had carried me through, and my heart swelled with gratitude. Yet, the battle wasn’t entirely over. On October 6, 2023, I met with my new oncologist, Dr. Karen Motilall, who, along with Professor Benn, recommended another operation: a wide local excision of a breast sarcoma to ensure that any tiny lumps were benign. The procedure, though successful, was a severe test of my physical, mental, and emotional strength. This new chapter is fraught with uncertainty, but my resolve has never been stronger . I will continue to fight, to heal, and to trust that God will see me through, just as He has done before. Reflections and Inspirations I have always believed that like many cancer survivors, I am a living testimony. Every time I come through a major life challenge, I learn more about who I am and become a stronger woman because of it. With my renewed health, I strive to be a better person than I was yesterday. This path requires me to trust that the Lord’s purpose for my life has not yet been fulfilled. I have been put here on Earth to encourage and inspire, and I remain hopeful. God knows how this chapter of my life will end. I remind myself every day to allow the process to unfold and not be afraid to fear the unknown. Read More: Newly Diagnosed: Now What? The Cost of Breast Cancer Nurse Navigators: Your Guide Through Treatment Tips for Pain Management with Cancer On the Podcast: Breast Cancer Conversations Preparing for Breast Cancer Surgery: What You Need to Know with Dr. Tammaro Share your story, poetry, or art: https://www.survivingbreastcancer.org/submit-breast-cancer-story SurvivingBreastCancer.org Resources & Support: Podcast Weekly Meetup s Free Events

By Beth Cazalet So many articles and books provide great information about what you might want to have with you when you are undergoing chemotherapy treatment to make it more bearable. Creating or receiving these chemo bags  or products for chemo bags can be a very therapeutic way of taking some control during your cancer treatment. However, almost nothing I've seen tells you how to prepare a hospital bag for a longer stay or inpatient treatment , when more factors are out of your control. I started a chemo regime of carboplatin, paclitaxel and pembrolizumab (immunotherapy) in October 2023 for triple-negative breast cancer  and I was in hospital with hepatitis by December 2023. I HAD packed a hospital bag, but I assumed I would only be in overnight for a check over, not that I would be there for two weeks, so the bag I had packed was pretty inadequate.   After weeks of antibiotics and steroids, I was released from hospital. I was taken off paclitaxel and pembrolizumab, which are known for attacking the liver, and had more weeks of steroids to get my liver back to normal. I was extremely lucky that even with the limited amount of chemo I had, the drugs had shrunk the tumour enough to remove it. I now have no evidence of cancer but am back on oral chemo to be safe and to limit the potential of recurrence. My hospital bag is ready, just in case. Below are some ideas for what to pack in a hospital bag . If you have private medical care or are lucky, your hospital may provide some of these items, so take this list as a starting point.  Day clothes/nightwear:  Several sets of each. Preferably, outfits should not go over the head. Opt for button-down shirts with loose fitting sleeves so that if you have a cannula in your arm, you can take your top on and off when needed for blood tests and infusions without disturbing the cannula. Trousers with elasticated waistbands are easier than zips and buckles, especially if you have a cannula. A zip-up sweater or cardigan is also helpful. Take several pairs of underwear and socks (not just one). A dressing gown (robe) and non-slip slippers give you much greater dignity if you stay in PJs. Wash bag and toiletries:  The hospital may give you toiletries, but it is best to have your own toothbrush and toothpaste. If they end up washing you, they usually provide all of it. They may also give you towels and a washcloth, so you do not need to pack those (my hospital didn’t provide washcloths). Body lotion and lip gloss are also helpful as you can feel dried out from temperature differences compared to your home.  Eye mask and ear plugs:  The hospital can be very noisy and light, making it difficult to sleep and recover. I found eye masks, earplugs and noise cancelling headphones essential (preferably headphones that you can keep on even if you roll over in your sleep). Contact list of phone numbers and chargers:  You need to have a list of people’s telephone numbers either printed out or be able to access them on your mobile phone/tablet. A good charger and cables are also important.  Details of your cancer medications, other regular prescription medications and over-the-counter supplements (like vitamins):  This helps ensure that there are no adverse drug reactions and that you can get what you need. I created a spreadsheet to keep track of my cancer medicines and when I took them, which proved very useful when they were trying to figure out what I was reacting to.  Notebook and paper:  These items are helpful if you have questions and want to make notes or create lists of things for people to bring to you or instructions for home. Entertainment:  A puzzle book, novel, magazine, craft activity or a tablet with some movies, TV, or music downloaded can help pass the hours, especially if you wake up in the night and need help going back to sleep. Read More: Packing a Care Bag for Cancer Treatment Why a Second Opinion Matters for Breast Cancer Nurse Navigators: Your Guide Through Treatment On the Podcast: Breast Cancer Conversations Good News for Triple Negative Breast Cancer: A Vaccine and Hope for the Future Share your story, poetry, or art: https://www.survivingbreastcancer.org/submit-breast-cancer-story SurvivingBreastCancer.org Resources & Support: Podcast Weekly Meetup s Free Events

Boston, MA – October 2024 – SurvivingBreastCancer.org is thrilled to announce the success of its second annual Tell Cancer To Go #TakeAHike event. This year, 100 teams and nearly 200 participants came together to raise more than $20,000 in support of breast cancer awareness and resources for patients and survivors. "We’re incredibly grateful for everyone who participated and donated," said Laura Carfang, CEO of SurvivingBreastCancer.Org . "This event shows the strength of our community and the commitment to making a positive impact in the lives of those affected by breast cancer." Though the event has wrapped, donations are still being accepted at  https://givebutter.com/0fCiEU   to continue supporting SurvivingBreastCancer.org ’s programs. About SurvivingBreastCancer.org :   SurvivingBreastCancer.org (SBC) is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization supporting those who have been touched by breast cancer. SBC provides free online resources and emotional support services to guide individuals when they are first diagnosed, through treatment, and beyond. Media Contact: Ana Quintero Marketing and PR Specialist SurvivingBreastCancer.org ana@survivingbreastcancer.org

By Alyce Stewart On October 19, 2016, I was diagnosed with breast cancer . My first reaction was, “Are you kidding me?” I had already gone through this drill once, diagnosed in December 1993 with stage II kidney cancer . This was not a scenario I ever wanted to repeat, but there it was… the Big C, once again staring me in the face. How could this happen? I had my annual mammogram in January, and the results were negative, with no evidence of disease. Breast cancer doesn’t run in my family, and kidney cancer doesn’t metastasize there. Did I lose a bet or what? Being a type A personality, I went home, got on my computer, and did exactly  what the doctors tell you not to; I went to the internet. Having supported many others through their breast cancer journeys, I was pretty well versed in the subject, or so I thought. Nope, I had no idea what was ahead for me . But the one thing I did know was had I not listened to my inner voice and my aching body, this may not have been diagnosed . Hmmm, that’s a familiar story; seems I was on this path before. Oh yes, I remember it took almost ten years to discover the tumors growing in my kidney . In the late 80s, I complained of pains in my back, headaches, and flu-like symptoms. Many doctors saw me over the ensuing years and said ridiculous things; for instance, “Your underwear is too tight.” What a bizarre diagnosis, and there would be others just as absurd. The last one was my favorite, “You’re that age.” What the heck does that mean?  I finally met a doctor in November 1993 who listened and sent me for an ultrasound. As I lay on the table, I asked the technician if I could watch, and she said, “sure.” She applied the cold, goopy gel, adjusted the screen so I could see, and began the exam. We were chatting with each other when there it was : a white, ghostly-looking image. She stopped talking; the quiet scared me as I realized it wasn’t supposed to be there. When she finished, she softly asked if I had a follow-up with my doctor, and then I knew  something was very wrong. A week later, the prognosis came back, and that was the first time I met the Big C. I was hospitalized immediately and lost my right kidney on the 9th of December 1993. After removing the kidney, the doctors pronounced me cured, and I thought I had dodged a bullet. As the years passed, I would tell others to listen to their bodies and not give up. I told them to get second opinions  and to question their doctors. I was on a mission; I wanted to save others from going through what I did, searching for answers to my pain. I would tell them you know your body best, listen to it. I thought I’ve got this. WRONG!  In 2010 I went to my GYN doctor and told her I had a strange pain in my left breast . She examined me and said, “You’re fine; you just need better bras.” Yup, underwear again. This scenario played out for several years; why I didn’t question her, I honestly don’t know. Here I was telling others to seek second opinions while I accepted what my doctor said. I turned a deaf ear to my body’s messages and never sought a second opinion. What a hypocrite I was. In 2016 the pain worsened and spread to my armpit; I thought I had pulled a muscle. I had massages, adjustments, and exams. Nothing worked, the pain continued, and there was no relief. It was time to listen to my body and get to the bottom of this. I got my second opinion when I saw my family doctor, who ordered multiple tests resulting in a diagnosis of breast cancer both in my left breast and my left axilla. I learned I had dense breasts , and my mammograms could not pick up these images. With dense breasts, other tests have to be ordered, such as MRIs and ultrasounds. I had surgery, chemo, and radiation and was declared NED: no evidence of disease. My mission continues as I jog along this crazy trail called life. I talk about dense breasts and share my story of six years of pain and not seeking a second opinion. I didn’t listen to my body, and I put all my trust in a doctor’s hands, which was a huge mistake. I stress that you MUST listen to your body, don’t ignore the message, and seek other opinions. The results can be deadly if you don’t. When I had my surgery in 2017 for my breast cancer, the doctor was unable to remove all of the cancer, so I was deemed at risk. Due to this risk, I have been having blood work every six months . In October 2023, my cancer marker results were high. I was told this could be a false positive and the test was repeated a week later, again the results were high. After much testing it was determined that I am now in stage 4 and I have metastatic breast cancer  (MBC) in my lung and bones.  I have now added speaking about MBC and explaining that there are many treatment options available, and patients are living longer with this diagnosis. I am a Thriver and I tell my story and talk about MBC whenever I can. Education and early detention are so important , and I emphasize that to all because I feel so blessed that this was found as early as it was. I have monthly treatments and will for the rest of my life. I’m doing well, my breast cancer is under control, but now I live with a chronic disease, metastatic breast cancer , because I did not listen. Your body knows; listen to it! Read More: Breast Cancer at 33: A Young Mom’s Story of Self-Advocacy Metastatic Breast Cancer: Understanding the Significance of Stage IV Why a Second Opinion Matters for Breast Cancer Breast Cancer Symptoms Video: What is Breast Density? On the Podcast: Breast Cancer Conversations Understanding Breast Cancer Screening Modalities Share your story, poetry, or art: https://www.survivingbreastcancer.org/submit-breast-cancer-story SurvivingBreastCancer.org Resources & Support: Podcast Weekly Meetup s Free Events

By Alicia Henry Harris Facing a cancer diagnosis  during pregnancy is a rare and challenging experience that can impact both your health and your unborn child’s well-being. The journey of managing cancer while pregnant  is filled with unique obstacles, affecting your emotional and physical resilience.  Concerns about how cancer treatment might affect not only your health but also the well-being of your baby and your future fertility are natural. My husband and I personally underwent this journey when I was diagnosed 14 weeks into my pregnancy .  I had no symptoms ; it all started from a routine check-up with my OB. She asked if I wanted to check my breasts, and I agreed. She felt something, but thought it could just be milk coming in. To be cautious, she ordered a sonogram. After the sonogram, they ordered a biopsy, and that’s when I received the diagnosis: invasive ductal carcinoma , ER/PR positive, HER2 negative, grade 3. We scheduled surgery a couple of weeks later and did a lumpectomy when I was 16 weeks pregnant. I started chemotherapy during my third trimester , just before being induced, and continued with more chemo after my baby was born, followed by radiation. My doctor recommended the TC chemotherapy regimen with both docetaxel (Taxotere) and cyclophosphamide (Cytoxan). It was an intense journey, but having faith and a plan helped me focus on both my health and my baby’s well being. My experience being pregnant while battling cancer was a whirlwind of emotions. On one hand, I was filled with the joy of expecting my baby, but on the other hand, I was terrified of what the diagnosis meant for both of us . Every decision about treatment carried the weight of not just my health, but my unborn child’s well-being. Chemotherapy while pregnant felt overwhelming, and I constantly wondered if I was making the right choice to protect my daughter. There were so many questions and fears: whether the baby would be born healthy, how my body would handle the treatment while pregnant , and what the future held for both of us. But through it all, I had an incredible support system  and medical team that monitored me and the baby closely, which helped me feel secure in my decisions.  All this was very hard to go through during the postpartum period, but I got through it. There were moments when the exhaustion felt unbearable, but having my family and medical team  by my side made a huge difference. My husband , my faith, and a strong support system of friends and loved ones  helped me get through the toughest days. Simple things like walking, meditation , and studying helped me stay grounded. I also found comfort talking with a counselor.  In the end, I was blessed with a healthy baby girl who I named Journi , symbolizing the transformative journey we embarked on together. It was during this experience that my mission crystallized: to support and empower other expectant mothers facing a similar challenge. I want them to know that it is feasible to navigate pregnancy alongside treatment and still bring forth a healthy, joyful baby . I want every mother in this situation to understand that they need not face this journey alone. It’s possible to navigate pregnancy and cancer treatment simultaneously, emerging with both a healthy child and renewed strength.  When my daughter Journi was born healthy, it was the most beautiful moment hearing her cry for the first time . Surviving cancer while bringing her into the world made me even more passionate about supporting other mothers going through similar battles. That experience inspired me to start Journi for Two, my nonprofit, to ensure no mother faces the journey alone. My aspiration to establish this foundation stems from the resilience and hope that guided me through my own journey. By sharing my story, I aim to provide a source of inspiration and information for pregnant mothers undergoing cancer treatment . Together, we can navigate this challenging path and emerge with strength, courage, and the belief that a positive outcome is attainable. At Journi for Two, our mission is to support mothers battling cancer with practical help and heartfelt care. We have a support group and community for mothers to connect along with providing hope baskets filled with essentials, and offer services like counseling, childcare, cleaning, and food. We also offer free breast exams to the community at our events.  Our work is now expanding internationally, and we’re excited about our recent trip to Washington, D.C., where Congresswoman Kathy Castor invited us to the White House and Capitol, and chose me as a survivor to play in the Congressional Women’s Softball Game. We have some wonderful events coming up, including free breast and health exams. I also speak at various events across Florida to raise awareness and advocate for mothers with cancer, especially those who are pregnant or have young children. We’re truly excited about the future and the chance to make a difference in many lives. Connect with Alicia on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/journifortwo Read More: Breast Cancer and Fertility Breast Cancer and Pregnancy: Managing Health for Mother and Baby I Found The Lump Myself Nurse Navigators: Your Guide Through Treatment Supporting Loved Ones with Breast Cancer: How to Offer Meaningful Help On the Podcast: Breast Cancer Conversations Parenting with Metastatic Breast Cancer Share your story, poetry, or art: https://www.survivingbreastcancer.org/submit-breast-cancer-story SurvivingBreastCancer.org Resources & Support: Podcast Weekly Meetup s Free Events

By Elizabeth Allen Dear Northern California, I was just passing through and I wanted to thank you. Thank you for your doctors, artists, nurses  and researchers, oh and your clam chowder, famous wine, windy ocean and magical forests. I’ve always felt rather possessive of Northern California, and without any personal connection. In my early twenties I felt sure I would move here, having never even seen it (obviously never did). In my thirties I thought I might retire here, “maybe Petaluma,” I said confidently after a few days in wine country. I think now, it was a foreshadowing of this unforgettable interlude. Perhaps if this place hadn’t already called me for years, I might have missed a beautiful opportunity. My visit is more specific than I implied. I came here to get a little help in healing my breast cancer, but I do so love to wax on poetically, I hope you didn’t mind. I’m convalescing in a cabin in the redwoods in the Russian River Valley. All of my recent memories crowd for attention, but let me collect myself and start at the beginning.  I was laying in bed one night with my arm thrown across my chest when I realized my hand was perched on top of my breast like a little bird. I tapped it and it was hard. I tapped the other and it wasn’t. I felt alarm shoot through me. I decided I should just casually have a mammogram four years late and not mention it to my husband. Of course the tech saw micro-calcifications and a cascade of events unfolded. I was sent to a breast clinic for an ultrasound/biopsy which landed me in a virtual meeting with a local surgeon who wanted to do a lumpectomy. It was too fast. I requested a physical exam which led to an MRI, which revealed a mass twice the size they had originally estimated… so she revised her plan to a mastectomy, which drove me to find a second opinion  offering a complicated option, which borrowed me enough time to scour the internet for my diagnosis, ductal carcinoma in situ  (DCIS).  Ductal carcinoma in situ is one of the most treatable/curable breast cancers , but mine had concerning characteristics. It was high-grade DCIS, I had a large (greater than 5 cm) palpable mass and abundant T-cell infiltration, it was hormone receptor negative (less than 1%) and Her2 positive, and I was diagnosed under age 45. In DCIS, all roads of progress lead to Dr. Laura Esserman, the director of the Breast Care Center at UCSF. And so I came. She taught me to count chickens before they hatch, so you can always count them, and she convinced me that she’s possibly more curious than even I am.  Her curiosity has led her to the doors of those who hold the money to fund research . Her late-night phone calls with me were filled with all of the possible scenarios racing through her mind to find the key to the sometimes-miraculous cures with immunotherapy , and sometimes complete resistance. While my curiosity led me to her, it was no match for the curiosity that led her to head a research team with 20 interns, all racing to explore the viability of scenarios. I do rather hope her children read this story and decide who will take one for the team and give her the grandchild she deserves… but I was overjoyed to become patient number 9 of 11 in the third arm of her clinical trial  to treat DCIS with intratumoral immunotherapy injections (mRNA-2752). I made three quick trips to San Francisco and then one long trip after the trial to have surgery to remove and donate my tumor to research and get my dream “four babies later”: breast reduction.  When surgery time came, I brought my family and we wandered all over San Francisco a few days beforehand, experiencing its charm. One day at the Embarcadero, I scanned a local photographer’s work when he noticed me connecting with one. It was a shot he had taken of a painting of a doctor done by a famous street artist with live pigeons flocking around the painting. He pointed at the doctor and said, “Who is this?” I said, “God?” He said, “Yes, and who are these?” now pointing at the pigeons. I said, “People?” He said, “Yes, the people come to God for help.” I had felt God guiding me through this entire health journey without question, but the timing of this man’s natural affirmation warmed me. He flipped to a picture of the Golden Gate Bridge. He said, “Do you see the clouds and the sun together in this photo?” I said, “Yes.” He said, “This was a golden moment, it never happens.”  I thought about my upcoming surgery, with two of the very best breast surgeons in America caring for me in tandem, improving my odds of a favorable outcome and reducing my surgery recovery exponentially . It was more lucky than a golden moment. I bought the photographs, moved by the divine appointment, treasuring the mementos of my pilgrimage to San Francisco.  Two days later, I was sitting in pre-op. My very well-known plastic surgeon, Dr. Robert Foster, arrived with about five female interns and told me they would be observing. I nodded seriously and announced they would see a great example of ptosis today, and the observers erupted in laughter while the doctor merely shot me a glance with a glint of humor.  Dr. Foster knelt down in front of me, collapsing his giant frame to accommodate my short stature, and drew diamonds on me. “My husband will be thrilled with diamond-shaped areolas!” I crowed. Again the girls all laughed, and he remained undistracted. I asked him if his job is easier when women are 5’ 10” and he paternally smiled and said “It’s OK, I’m adaptable.”  The girls were clearly a captive audience, so I continued my comedy act. I said, “You know when I met with a plastic surgeon in Denver, he was a tall gorgeous man from Greece with a very attractive accent. He examined and measured my breasts in a very clinical, professional way, but he kept saying ‘ptosis’ to the nurse taking notes, so I finally asked what it meant. He said, ‘Excellent question, I’m measuring the sag of your breasts.’ I gazed into the middle distance and thought, ’This is a moment.’” The girls were now helpless with giggles, but Dr. Foster remained the consummate gentleman and finished with great precision, giving me only an enigmatic smile. It appeared my show was over so I bid them all farewell. When Dr. Laura Esserman (The Singing Surgeon) blazed in, she had been listening to the song I chose for her to sing me to sleep with, and she was all in a tizzy. She burst out, “Elizabeth, he dies! You aren’t going to die!” I smilingly feigned ignorance of her implication and said, “I’ve always been a fan of tragic romance.” She wrestled for a moment with my absurd song choice and declared, “Well, the tumor will die! Felina it is.” They wheeled me into operating room 11, put a mask over my face, and Dr. Laura started singing a song my father had sung to me hundreds of times. Without warning, grief filled my chest and tears ran down my cheeks as I mourned the man who cancer had taken from me over a decade ago without a fair fight. Dr. Laura tenderly wiped my tears with the corner of a blanket while she sang and then I was asleep. What happens in the OR stays in the OR, unless you find tape on your forehead and grow curious enough to read the surgery notes. Apparently they do all kinds of things with you, even putting you in a sitting position during surgery, which is quite funny to me, but I came out with prettier breasts than I’ve ever had, thanks to the magic hands of Dr. Foster, so who am I to question these mysteries? At my request, Dr. Laura sent me a picture of what appeared to be a chunk of burnt chicken that evening (it had dye on it). I sat in my hospital room and gazed at the offending object, intrigued by its grisly shape. As I looked more intently, I realized that I knew those curves. After tracing it for six months with my fingertips, begging it to shrink, melt, die or crumble, it was a very familiar enemy indeed. It was right where it belonged: in the hands of a doctor with a team of researchers determined to unlock its secrets. At present, we await the final pathology  so Dr. Esserman can create my future treatment plan. We don’t want radiation to disrupt the lymphocytes being stimulated by the immunotherapy to prevent future cancer, so it will be groundbreaking stuff and I love it. Despite a background noise of people who questioned the process, God took me down a path less traveled with a handful of other women.  Dr. Esserman inspired me by stating a bold goal: to put herself out of business as an oncology surgeon. My experience with cancer became a thing of purpose, to contribute to progress in medicine. I also left a little piece of me (that looks like burnt chicken) to pave the way for the women who come behind me so they can experience a cure without a knife. I’m just passing through. Thanks for the memories and the perky little boobies, No-Cal. I’ll be back soon.  Read More: Ductal Carcinoma in Situ (“Stage Zero” Breast Cancer): What You Need To Know Immunotherapy Response Monitoring in Patients with Breast Cancer Why a Second Opinion Matters for Breast Cancer On the Podcast: Breast Cancer Conversations Building a Strong Relationship Between Patients and Their Medical Team Share your story, poetry, or art: https://www.survivingbreastcancer.org/submit-breast-cancer-story SurvivingBreastCancer.org Resources & Support: Podcast Weekly Meetup s Free Events

About #takeahike 2023 Join us for the biggest fundraiser of the year! Tell Cancer To Go #TakeAHike Fundraiser on October 15th! 🎗️ 🌟 Get Ready to Make a Difference, One Step at a Time! 🌟 📅 Date: October 15th, 2023 🏞️ Location: Anywhere You Are - Nationwide and Across the globe. Get Your Gear! Are you ready to lace up your hiking boots or put on your walking shoes? October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month, and we're inviting you to be part of something truly special - the Tell Cancer To Go #TakeAHike fundraiser! 🌎 The Idea 🌎 We understand that our supporters are spread across the United States and the globe. That's why we're introducing a unique and inclusive concept for this year's Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Here's how it works: 👟 Step 1: On October 15th, you can spearhead a hike or a walk in your local neighborhood or nearby scenic area. Whether you prefer a leisurely stroll through the park or a challenging mountain hike, the choice is yours! 👥 Step 2: This is a peer-to-peer fundraising opportunity! You can form your own teams or join an existing team. And guess what? It's completely FREE to sign up and get started. Rally your friends, family, and colleagues to join your team. 💌 Step 3: Reach out to your network and ask for their support. We believe in the power of the grapevine - as your friends and family get involved, they'll connect with even more people who want to join the cause. 📢 The Logistics 📢 Ready to get started? Here are some essential links to help you on your #TakeAHike journey: 🌐 Fundraiser Page: https://givebutter.com/zs07EP - Sign up, create or join a team, and start fundraising today! 🛒 Purchase Swag: https://www.bonfire.com/takeahikecancer/ - Show your support with exclusive #TakeAHike merchandise. 📚 Once you’ve registered, you will be invited to join our #TakeAHike Private Facebook Group to connect with fellow participants, share stories, and get updates. 🎥 On October 15th, We Hike (or Walk)! 🎥 Get ready for an incredible day of unity and awareness. We'll have a live stream featuring participants from all over, and we'll be sharing inspiring pictures from all of our destinations. Together, we'll create a powerful sense of community and spread breast cancer awareness far and wide. This is your chance to make a tangible difference in the fight against breast cancer. Let's step up, step out, and step together towards a world without breast cancer. Join us for the Tell Cancer To Go #TakeAHike fundraiser on October 15th, and let's hike our way to a brighter, healthier future! 💖🚶‍♀️🚶‍♂️ Together, we can make every step count. 🌸 #TakeAHikeCancer

By Verity Lester On June 26, 2024 I woke at 3:00 in the morning with pains in my left breast . I squeezed my breast to stop it from hurting and discovered a small lump next to my areola. I woke my husband three hours later, and he confirmed he could feel the lump. As it was a public holiday, I waited until the following Tuesday to get a GP appointment. My doctor referred me to St George’s Hospital Tooting, to the two-week wait (2WW) scheme. I phoned them on the Friday of the same week I saw my doctor, querying I had heard nothing. They said that unfortunately it would be much longer than two weeks’ wait, and I wouldn’t be seen before July 4 at the earliest. I went private and saw a breast specialist  at Parkside Hospital Wimbledon; he promptly sent me for an ultrasound. The radiologist said that the ultrasound showed an irregular shape with a diameter of 15 mm , which should be biopsied. On June 4, I had a core biopsy, which was very painful despite the numbing injection. It left a horrific bruise across my breast for weeks. On June 12 I was referred back to the NHS at St George’s. I was diagnosed with stage 2, grade 2 invasive ductal carcinoma . My cancer was ER positive and HER2 equivocal , so I would have to wait another week for results . I was advised to go on our 29th wedding anniversary trip to Rhodes and the breast consultant would contact me the following Wednesday to tell me if I was HER2 positive or negative. In the meantime, he scheduled me for a lumpectomy and lymph node biopsy on July 4, unless my cancer was HER2 positive  – then he would cancel the biopsy and start with chemotherapy to shrink it. The surgery would be exactly 3 weeks from my breast cancer diagnosis . On June 19 I found out I was HER2 negative , so the lumpectomy and lymph node biopsy went ahead on July 4. So here I am with my M&S post-op bra on, two surgical bandages on my left breast from the lumpectomy and node removal/biopsy. I had a bad reaction to the anesthetic and was dizzy and sick, but each day I’m feeling a bit stronger. Lying on my back to sleep is hard, and I have sharp pains where the surgery was. I had my follow-up on July 17 to find out what the lump size is, if it has spread to my auxiliary node and surrounding tissue, and what treatment is in store for me next. I learned that I have an Oncotype DX score of 30, and I will have 8 rounds of chemotherapy starting on August 21. I’m mostly strong and optimistic, but I have bouts of depressing thoughts. I find meditation  and deep breathing a great help. Read More: Why a Second Opinion Matters for Breast Cancer Newly Diagnosed. Now What? Different Types of Breast Cancer Understanding Your Pathology Report On the Podcast: Breast Cancer Conversations Michelle Sandlin, Living Her Best Life with BRCA 1 Share your story, poetry, or art: https://www.survivingbreastcancer.org/submit-breast-cancer-story SurvivingBreastCancer.org Resources & Support: Podcast Weekly Meetup s Free Events

By Adrienne Kapstein On my morning trudge to the subway the other day, I passed a poster of an assorted group of cool, edgy musicians. One celebrity posed wearing an outfit with an artfully placed pastie of what appeared to be duct tape, but on further reflection, was probably leather, over her nipple. Apart from the nipple being concealed, the rest of her breast was visible. Did the fact that the nipple was covered mean her breast wasn’t fully revealed, I wondered?  Facebook will sometimes censor posts that show breasts with nipples, but doesn’t censor images on the double mastectomy group of which I am a member. A group where brave women share pictures of themselves post-surgery, nippleless, with scars in their place. Do the Facebook monitors consider these not  to be breasts if there is no nipple?  A brief survey of Western art history reveals endless depictions of breasts with nipples suckled,(1) bitten, tweaked, pinched, poked, groped, squeezed , sniffed, twiddled, delicately draped and yet fully revealed. Is the nipple what makes a breast, a breast? I’m asking because 11 months to the day I am writing this, I lost my breasts. That sounds careless. 11 months to the day, my breasts were taken from me. That doesn’t sound quite right either. They weren’t stolen, in fact; much to my horror, I had to grant permission. 11 months to the day, my breasts were removed. There. As cold and ruthless as it sounds. 7 months and 19 days ago I had “exchange” surgery to replace temporary “expanders” that stretch the muscles with implants. I was not a candidate for a nipple-sparing mastectomy, and so they were removed too. Now, almost a year out, I am left with the decision “to nipple, or not to nipple.” The visible breast is made up of the nipple and areola. The English word areola  comes from the Latin areola , diminutive of area  – open space. An open space . This captures how I feel right now. Inhabiting an open space. Existing in the open space between the before and after of cancer; the open space between mourning the body I had for 48 years , and accepting a new one. The open space between having a breast mound, but no nipple. And therefore, the open space between, do I really have breasts, or not?  Diagnosed  with   invasive ductal carcinoma  and with the pre-existing condition of lobular carcinoma in situ (LCIS) (which is not considered cancer, but are cells with a high chance of becoming malignant), I was given the excruciating choice to opt for a lumpectomy and radiation or a mastectomy . It feels like an impossible task to try and remember the avenues of research and self-reflection and anxiety and sadness  I navigated during that time. So, to avoid that and summarize: There was no way of knowing how large an area of breast would need to be removed by lumpectomy, and with small breasts and the location of the cancer, I feared major physical deformation. Radiation would further complicate things – damage the skin and shrink the remaining breast tissue. Additionally, with the LCIS diagnosis, there was the strong possibility that more cancer would develop (I had already had 5 biopsies before the cancer was found), and my breast and skin would be significantly compromised with radiation, possibly meaning that I might not have the choice for reconstruction if needed in the future. After much agonizing, I made a decision I never would have dreamed of making. In fact, previous thoughts of mastectomies gave me visceral adverse reactions that made me feel physically ill. Jump-cut in time and emotion: I now have implants. Although the surgeries   went smoothly, I healed fast, and every medical professional compliments me on how “good it looks,” I have what can be best described as Barbie boobs. Too hard, too round, and nippleless. (Spell check does not  like this word. Well spell check, neither do I.) But without nipples, my breasts are blank. When I see myself naked, I feel a little like an alien. Wearing a bra helps because it hides the missing part and tricks my brain. Almost a year out from dealing with cancer, I’m picking up the pieces and trying to understand and come to terms with my new body. I have learned that there are tattoos one can get that create the optical illusion of an areola and nipple. From the pictures I have seen, they are convincing. But the “open space” between this illusion and the reality is that the breast surface is still flat and the very nippley nature (take that, spell check) of nipples – and especially how mine were – are to protrude, to point.  There is also the option of getting a nipple constructed, but I fear that although they would indeed stick out, the proverbial ‘open space’ here would be that the shape of the implant can never change. It is blunted. It is round, yes, but without the teardrop shape – the breast shape forever captured in the champagne cups made from Marie Antoinette’s breasts (and yes, I know breasts come in all shapes and sizes) – it just doesn’t look like a breast.  I had what I feel were particularly un-American breasts. They were small, sloping, with unruly proud nipples. (Sure, sometimes they were embarrassing, but I liked them poking out. I’m pretty much a rule follower, but my nipples weren’t. They did what they wanted and they felt slightly subversive. And therefore, sexy.) My husband   used to call them “French boobies.” They were not the size or shape seen on television , or for the majority of the bras on the racks. They didn’t fit into what is deemed desirable – in fact, that was made hurtfully clear when a brilliant but indelicate breast surgeon at Memorial Sloan Kettering told me in no uncertain terms that I wasn’t a candidate for “nipple sparing” because of ptosis . In layman’s terms, my sloping French boobies were considered droopy. But I was happy with them, and I loved my nipples. So, now I wonder, will adding a fake nipple – a protrusion – onto a flattened surface just seem like putting a cherry on top of an ice cream scoop? Will it give me what I miss, or make me miss it more? And then there is the open space that exists between having and feeling; and between seeing and believing. I have no sensation in my breasts. I have, but do not feel; I see, but it is hard to believe. This is the cruelest part of it all. What was once a part of me that would feel the pressure and warmth of another body when I hugged them, or where I gather my children – my youngest at a petite 10 years old still comes to chest height; the place where I used to love the feel of my husband’s rough hands on the softest skin on my body, now has no feeling at all. The dissonance is hard to explain – I can see that they are there, but without sensing them, in some way it is almost like they don’t exist.    Whether I opt for tattoos or nipple construction, or both, I’ll never regain sensation. Although it has barely been a year and I am aware of still moving through various stages of adjustment – this narrative being the attempt to articulate one moment of that undertaking – I wonder if I am avoiding the nipple question as the last step toward it all being over and fixed and finished, this cancer journey, I mean. When I know deep down that all of those things are not and will never be true. It is over, but it could recur; it is fixed, but I am forever altered; it is not finished , even though it feels like the world has forgotten and moved on. Maybe by inhabiting this open space, I am allowing myself to postpone the inevitable – acceptance.  But there are two words, so similar to areola  that they could be confused as being related. Aureola  from the Latin aureolus  means golden, splendid and aureole  (via Middle English from Latin) means  halo: “a circle of light or brightness surrounding something.” So maybe instead of thinking of the open space where my nipples once were, I can envision a sister space – closely related, but not the same – a golden halo, a circle of light surrounding something. (1) Andrea di Bartolo’s Madonna of Humility, The Blessing Christ, Two Angels, and a Donor from c. 1380/1390; Guido’s Cleopatra with asp, 1630; Gabrielle d'Estrées et une de ses sœurs, anonymous, circa 1594; Cornelis Van Harlen, A Monk and a Nun ; H. Bosch, The Garden of Earthly Delights; Lovis Corinth 1902, Self Portrait with his wife; Liberi’s Allegory of the Weiblichkeit, circa 1660; Pittoni’s Caritas romana, 1710 ; Jupiter and Antiope, Goltzius, 1612; Primavera or Allegory of Spring, Botticelli c. 1482. Connect with Adrienne on Instagram Read More: Questions to Ask Your Breast Surgeon Exploring Breast Reconstruction Surgery: Pros and Cons The Choice to Go Flat   The Breast Cancer Care Continuum Once a Patient, Always a Patient On the Podcast: Breast Cancer Conversations From Diagnosis to Survivorship: Stories and Support for Early Stage Breast Cancer Share your story, poetry, or art: https://www.survivingbreastcancer.org/submit-breast-cancer-story SurvivingBreastCancer.org Resources & Support: Podcast Weekly Meetup s Free Events

By Kinjal Sanghavi There were a series of hardships Yet you chose to hang in there There were plenty of sleepless nights Yet you pretended to be lively and energetic There were many toxic people who gave you emotional stress Yet you didn’t lose an ounce of your courage There were new challenges with each sunrise Yet you tried your best to retain your beautiful smile There were more heartbreaks than ever expected Yet you continued to be optimistic There were tears that longed to secure their place in your eyes Yet you maintained your composure There was helplessness that choked you from beneath Yet you didn’t let your willpower fade There were times when you were on the verge of breaking down Yet you remained strong in that vulnerable situation There was a period when nothing was going your way Yet you pushed yourself with small efforts and stayed motivated Amid the smog of negativity, thunderstorm of nuisance and cyclone of nervousness You fought the silent battles fiercely and fearlessly Share your poetry: https://www.survivingbreastcancer.org/submit-breast-cancer-story SurvivingBreastCancer.org Resources & Support: Podcast Weekly Meetups Free Events

By Marylou DiPietro  Monologue excerpted from solo play, In Love with Cancer   MARYLOU’S INNER VOICE  The number eight hangs on a hook in my brain.  Why eight? Why not seven? Seven's been my lucky number since the third grade, when I won the most beautiful picture of a blonde-haired, blue eyed, prepubescent Virgin Mary.  Yup, you heard me right: a blonde-haired, blue-eyed prepubescent Virgin Mary.  Made perfect sense at the time.  (Looking up “prepubescent” on my phone.)  Prepubescent: Young girls who are prepubescent are experiencing their purest sense of self before adulthood.  Their purest sense of self...  That’s why I wanted to become a nun!  If I married Christ I could remain a virgin. What could be better than that? I’d have God’s eternal love, and secure my place in heaven.  But wait a minute; weren’t nuns born with the indelible stain of original sin on their souls like the rest of us?  Maybe hiding their bodies in reams of black wool, and shielding their breasts with a hard plastic bib was a kind of preordained penance for the sin they inherited from Eve. Besides, how could I be a nun when all I wanted to do was stand in front of the mirror --naked-- looking for a sign that my prepubescent body was becoming pubescent?  Would I be punished for praying that my breasts would grow as big as the most popular girl’s in class? Why did I want a woman’s body, if it was a sin to have one in the first place? Oh my God that’s it! That’s the direct line from God shaming Adam and Eve, to my parents yelling at my sisters and me to “go put something on”, whenever we went downstairs in a slip or even a nightgown, as if we had come down stark naked. No wonder my mother, and all her Catholic friends, didn’t breastfeed. The shame was so overwhelming they lost their instinct to feed their own children. No wonder my mother seemed almost relieved to have one of her breasts cut off when, in her seventies, she learned she had breast cancer.  Is losing a breast to cancer my punishment for having one to begin with?  Just who is the real traitor? God or my own body?  It wasn’t winning the prize of purity that shaped my life; it was trading the prize in for that badge of shame.  It’s not that I didn’t want people to know I had breast cancer; I didn’t want them to know I had breasts. The breasts I dreamed of having. The breasts I made believe I did have, when I stuffed my training bra with cotton. Breasts so small they made me invisible to boys. Breasts, like my eyes, that gave too much away. The breasts that, even though they were far from perfect, were all mine.  Breasts I proudly fed my children with. Breasts I took for granted.  Breasts -- one breast -- that became a feeding ground for cancer; and needed to be cut off from its life source, which was me. The breasts that taught me Shame is the real cancer that needs to be lopped off and thrown in the trash.  I’m in love with everything cancer has given me... Like the memory of eating my first pomegranate. Or the time I laid on the beach for hours watching a parade of animal clouds drift by.  Or how I convinced my baby sister -- and myself -- that I knew how to fly! And that she was to meet me every morning at 5:15 for flying lessons. Or how I dreamed of painting and drawing and writing poems as good as my older sister’s. And when I did, she wasn’t jealous.  Or the moment my two-month-old daughter popped her head out of the Snuggly and noticed the world for the first time.  Or the time my five-year-old son announced he didn’t believe God was in the sky, but that he was the good in each person. Cancer taught me that surviving cancer is like surviving childbirth. Except with cancer it is your own life you end up with. Cancer gave me the strength to come to terms with what it took away. You want to know why I really fell in love with cancer? Because it got me here today. Connect with Marylou: www.maryloudipietro.com Read More: BEAUTY AND THE BREASTS To My Bosom Buddy MY BREAST CANCER: DISCOVERY Time to Heal On the Podcast: Breast Cancer Conversations Voices of Resilience: A Night of Poetry and Healing Share your story, poetry, or art: https://www.survivingbreastcancer.org/submit-breast-cancer-story SurvivingBreastCancer.org Resources & Support: Podcast Weekly Meetup s Free Events

Although receiving a breast cancer diagnosis during pregnancy is relatively rare, occurring in approximately 1 in 3,000 pregnancies , it’s crucial to take action promptly. Managing the mother’s health and ensuring the safety of the unborn baby requires a delicate balance and specialized care.  Pregnancy hormones such as estrogen can potentially fuel the growth of certain types of breast cancer , underscoring the importance of early detection and intervention. Research investigating the impact of hormones related to pregnancy indicates that heightened levels of estrogen, progesterone, and insulin-like growth factor 1 (IGF-1) can contribute to the promotion of breast cancer cell proliferation. Continue reading to learn more about breast cancer and expectant mothers , including diagnosis details and treatment options for breast cancer during pregnancy. Diagnosis Challenges Natural changes in breast tissue during pregnancy make it challenging to diagnose breast cancer during pregnancy. Breasts typically become denser and larger, making lumps more difficult to detect. Healthcare providers often rely on breast ultrasound as the initial diagnostic tool to minimize radiation exposure. Mammograms can also be performed with abdominal shielding to protect the fetus. Diagnostic Procedures During Pregnancy Diagnosing breast cancer during pregnancy presents unique challenges due to the need to minimize potential risks to the developing fetus . However, several diagnostic techniques are considered safe for expectant mothers: Clinical breast exam : A healthcare professional physically examines the breasts Breast ultrasound : This imaging technique using high-frequency sound waves creates pictures of the breast, posing no radiation risk to the fetus  Mammography : According to The American College of Radiology, while mammograms involve low doses of radiation, they may be recommended after weighing the risks and benefits Risk Factors and Symptoms In addition to the risk factors all women face for developing breast cancer, risk factors during pregnancy   can increase due to:  Family history of breast cancer Family history of late menopause First menstruation (menarche) before age 12 First pregnancy after age 30 Previous pregnancies not followed by breastfeeding Hormonal changes during pregnancy cause the breasts to undergo transformations. They may become larger, lumpy, and tender, making it more challenging for you or your doctor to detect a cancerous lump until it becomes significantly large. So, it’s crucial to stay vigilant and aware of these symptoms . A lump or thickening in the breast or underarm Changes in the size or shape of the breast Discharge from the nipple (other than breast milk) or blood from the nipple Dimpling, puckering, or swelling Scaly or red skin Nipple turned inward Treatment Options for Breast Cancer During Pregnancy Treatment of breast cancer during pregnancy depends on the stage of cancer, the trimester of pregnancy, and the health of the mother and baby. The main goal is to treat the cancer as effectively as possible while minimizing risks to the fetus. Surgery Surgery is often considered the safest cancer treatment during pregnancy. It can include either a lumpectomy (removal of the tumor and some surrounding tissue) or a mastectomy (removal of the entire breast). These procedures are generally safe during all trimesters. Chemotherapy Chemotherapy may be an option during the second and third trimesters when the risk to the developing fetus is lower. Drugs commonly used include doxorubicin and cyclophosphamide, which are relatively safe after the first trimester . Radiation Doctors typically avoid radiation therapy during pregnancy due to the risks it poses to the developing fetus, including potential congenital disabilities and growth restrictions. It is usually postponed until after delivery. Targeted therapy Oncologists may recommend some targeted therapies or molecular targeted therapies during pregnancy. These therapies utilize drugs to focus on specific molecules found in cancer cells to halt their growth and spread. These therapies can destroy cancer cells or significantly slow their progression while minimizing harm to normal cells. Additionally, targeted therapies are beneficial for individuals with BRCA gene mutations who develop breast cancer. However, doctors use them only if necessary because their safety profile is less well-established. Monitoring Fetal Health The health of the fetus is monitored closely throughout cancer treatment. The monitoring process typically includes regular ultrasounds to check fetal growth and development and non-stress tests to monitor fetal heart rate. Multidisciplinary Support for Expectant Mothers Managing breast cancer during pregnancy requires a collaborative approach involving medical professionals from various disciplines, including: Oncologists Obstetricians Neonatologists Genetic counselors Psychologists and support groups A multidisciplinary team works together to develop a personalized treatment plan that prioritizes the well-being of the mother and the baby while providing emotional support  throughout the experience. Count On Us for Information, Resources, and Support  Breast cancer during pregnancy poses unique challenges. With the appropriate care, most women can go on to deliver healthy babies and effectively manage their cancer treatment. Early detection and a tailored treatment plan are crucial for the best outcomes for both mother and child. Whether you’re newly diagnosed with breast cancer , are navigating survivorship, or are the loved one of someone experiencing breast cancer, you can count on SurvivingBreastCancer.org to keep you informed. We provide educational information to help you better understand symptoms , testing, treatment options , surgery, etc., and podcasts that feature professionals, advocates, and caregivers who share valuable information. Your donations  enable SurvivingBreastCancer.org , a community dedicated to empowering those affected by breast cancer with knowledge, understanding, and a network of care, to offer resources and support every day, every month, and every year.  Note: This article is designed to provide general information and is not meant to replace professional medical advice. Always discuss your options with your healthcare provider. Learn More: Managing Breast Cancer During Pregnancy and Breastfeeding Breast Cancer in Young Women: Common Questions Answered The Role of Hormones in Breast Cancer They Were My Blessing: Facing Breast Cancer With Young Kids On the Podcast: Breast Cancer Conversations Hope: with Julia Maués and Christine Hodgdon SurvivingBreastCancer.org Resources & Support: Podcast Weekly Meetup s Free Events

Boston, MA – July 2024 – SurvivingBreastCancer.org is proud to announce a new partnership with pharmaceutical company Lilly for 2024. This collaboration aims to enhance support, education, and resources for individuals affected by breast cancer. “We are thrilled to partner with Lilly,” said Laura Carfang, Executive Director of SurvivingBreastCancer.org . “Their commitment to innovation and patient care aligns perfectly with our mission to empower and support the breast cancer community.” Together, SurvivingBreastCancer.org and Lilly will work on initiatives to provide essential resources, raise awareness, and foster a stronger support network for those impacted by breast cancer. For more information on our English and Spanish services, visit SurvivingBreastCancer.org . About SurvivingBreastCancer.org : SurvivingBreastCancer.org (SBC) is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization supporting those who have been touched by breast cancer. SBC provides free online resources and emotional support services to guide individuals when they are first diagnosed, through treatment, and beyond. Media Contact: Ana Quintero Marketing and PR SpecialistSurvivingBreastCancer.org ana@survivingbreastcancer.org

Boston, MA – June 2024 – SurvivingBreastCancer.org is excited to announce the release of the 75th episode of its Después De Un Diagnóstico  podcast. This milestone underscores the organization’s commitment to supporting the Spanish-speaking breast cancer community with valuable information, personal stories, and expert insights. “Reaching 75 episodes is a testament to our dedicated team,” said Laura Carfang, Executive Director of SurvivingBreastCancer.org . “We are grateful to our listeners for their support and trust. This achievement strengthens our resolve to continue providing essential resources.” Congratulations to the Después De Un Diagnóstico  team for their hard work and passion. Each episode is crafted to educate, inspire, and support our Spanish-speaking breast cancer community. Celebrate with us by tuning in at DespuésDeUnDiagnostico.org/podcast . For more information on our English and Spanish services, visit SurvivingBreastCancer.org . About SurvivingBreastCancer.org :   SurvivingBreastCancer.org (SBC) is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization supporting those who have been touched by breast cancer. SBC provides free online resources and emotional support services to guide individuals when they are first diagnosed, through treatment, and beyond. Media Contact: Ana Quintero Marketing and PR SpecialistSurvivingBreastCancer.org ana@survivingbreastcancer.org

SurvivingBreastCancer.org is adjusting our Thursday Night Thrivers support group schedule for summer 2024. For the months of June, July, and August, we will meet twice per month (instead of weekly). We will convene on the second and fourth Thursday of the month at 7:00 p.m. EDT.  Thursday Night Thrivers summer dates: June 13 June 27 July 11 July 25 August 8 August 22 The Zoom link will remain the same. If you do not have the link, please RSVP via our Thursday Night Thrivers events page .   Wishing everyone a wonderful summer! We hope you  make time for self-care, self-love, and relaxation.

SurvivingBreastCancer.org is thrilled to announce the return of our biggest fundraiser of the year:   Tell Cancer to Go #TakeAHike ! The big event will take place on Saturday, October 19. Hike (or walk, stroll, or just get outside) wherever you are in the world, have fun, and raise funds to support our 501 (c)(3) nonprofit organization! Register now  – join a team in your area, or start your own. How to Participate Start a team: Click the “Fundraise” button on our fundraising page, and you’ll be prompted to set up your fundraising profile. It’s free to set up ! Invite friends and family to join your fundraising team or start a fundraising team themselves. Join a team: Find a team you want to join, click “Join a Team” and you will be prompted to select a team and set up your profile. If you can’t participate in the event, you can still donate and support a participant by clicking on “Donate” or by purchasing a t-shirt. Sponsorship Opportunities: Want to participate in our mission to support the breast cancer community and have your brand’s logo featured on our #TakeAHike t-shirts? Take a look at our sponsorship opportunities – we have packages for all company sizes and budgets! ➡️ Click here to register ⬅️

Since the creation of our 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization in 2017, , SurvivingBreastCancer.org (SBC) has fostered human connection through shared circumstances. Whether our members connect based on the same type or stage of breast cancer or the same treatment regimen, SBC is a place where everyone is seen.    We know that serving as a caregiver to someone who has been diagnosed with cancer can be overwhelming. Our services are expanding to include dedicated support for these all-important caregivers for individuals diagnosed with cancer. We are thrilled to introduce a new support group: The Caregiver Huddle . This professionally-moderated group provides a safe space for caregivers to discuss the realities of caring for a loved one with cancer while simultaneously receiving vital emotional and practical support for themselves.  ✨This group is open to all caregivers for all types of cancer✨   We will meet every third Tuesday of the month at 7:00 p.m. Eastern Time. Learn more about our caregiving resources here.

By Heather Salazar Content warning: death and dying My life was saved, and forever changed , by a very unlikely person.  Alexis was a 23-year-old single mother  who was raised in the foster care system in 17 different homes. When I met Alexis, she was nearing the end of her life. She had stage IV breast cancer  and was looking for someone to raise her 9-month-old baby girl.  The previous week at our church, there were five couples on the big screen struggling with infertility. I called each of them to tell them about this precious, healthy baby girl. They had a problem with the color of her skin. I had a problem with them! I couldn’t stop thinking about this young mom and her baby with zero support . That was unimaginable from someone who has a family like mine… Alexis rode home from chemo on the public bus. That is not okay. I couldn’t sleep. After three nights, my husband Steve was like, “What is wrong with you?” I tell him. I beg him to meet Alexis. He says, “Heather… seriously? We already have three kids and our youngest isn’t even 2 yet!” I beg, and beg and BEG. Finally he agrees to meet Alexis. You know, just to help with groceries… So there we are, in the back of a grocery store parking lot. One with a bus stop in it so that Alexis could take the bus to come meet us. I remember it like it was yesterday. This tiny woman, maybe 100 pounds sopping wet, gets off the bus wearing a black mini skirt and a neon pink wig. She walked with such authority. She walked right past me and straight up to Steve and said, “I need help. I want my baby to have a better life than I did .” Steve’s heart melted into a puddle, and within the week we began the process of adopting Lexi. We became a family of six and our two girls, only 11 months apart, even slept in the same crib. We took Alexis to treatment and let her spend as much time with baby Lexi as she had the energy to do.  Alexis passed away shortly after turning 24. It is still the toughest thing I have ever witnessed. To see someone so young who was so scared to die was absolutely gut wrenching. About 18 months after we adopted Lexi, she was adjusted enough that she could stay with my parents, and Steve and I went away for our anniversary. I was 31. On that trip, I did my first ever self breast exam and I found a lump. I wasn’t worried. I still thought I was invincible. I thought that lump was nothing; Steve wasn’t so sure. Four days later, I was diagnosed  with the EXACT same type of aggressive breast cancer ( ER/PR- HER2+ ) that took Lexi’s first mom.  I was angry. Very angry. My kids had just witnessed Alexis die from this awful disease. How could this be happening? Was Lexi going to lose TWO moms to breast cancer before she even entered kindergarten? Not only did Alexis give us the incredible gift of Lexi, but she also saved my life. As she was dying, Alexis told me to make sure young women did self breast exams. If it wasn’t for Alexis, I would never have done that self breast exam. I wouldn’t have found that lump. I would have been dead long before my first mammogram at 40.  After a double mastectomy, Adriamycin/Cytoxan chemotherapy, and a year of Herceptin targeted therapy, I was declared cancer-free. While I was thrilled to be alive, I was haunted by the idea of those that have to face this battle alone.  I had zero experience and nothing more than a pipe dream about helping people after they were diagnosed, but I wrote a grant because I felt like I needed to do something. One afternoon I got back in my car and my phone was blowing up. It was announced on The Ellen Show, we were awarded the grant! The grantor was a billionaire out of Houston — not your typical foundation. And lucky for me, he believed in pipe dreams. My 501 (c)(3) nonprofit, Pink Ribbon Good (PRG), started providing healthy meals, rides to treatment, house cleaning essentials, and peer support services to four women battling stage IV breast cancer in Ohio.  I’d deliver meals after dropping my kids off at school or between their sports practices. We delivered 10,250 meals that first year and we were so proud. I’m happy to report that in June 2023 we delivered our one millionth meal!  What started as a crazy little pipe dream is now making sure brave fighters battling breast and gynecological cancers from San Francisco, CA to Buffalo, NY don’t have to travel this road alone. While this job isn’t always easy, it is such a privilege to get out of bed every day and know with every fiber of your being that you have found a way to put a purpose to your pain. To not be resentful of that pain, but instead see how it fueled what was to come next.  Heather Salazar Pink Ribbon Good President & CEO Read More: Breast Cancer in Young Women: Common Questions Answered My HER2-Positive Breast Cancer Diagnosis The Cost of Breast Cancer Supporting Loved Ones with Breast Cancer: How to Offer Meaningful Help Metastatic Breast Cancer: Understanding the Significance of Stage IV On the Podcast: Breast Cancer Conversations Young and Diagnosed: A Journey to Motherhood & Parenting with Triple Positive Breast Cancer Share your story, poetry, or art: https://www.survivingbreastcancer.org/submit-breast-cancer-story SurvivingBreastCancer.org Resources & Support: Podcast Weekly Meetup s Free Events