By Jessie Putre On March 13, 2024, I went to a private clinic to check a small lump in my breast that everyone was telling me was probably nothing. At that appointment, I was told that I likely had breast cancer. I had  a mammogram, ultrasound, and biopsy at that appointment, and my results came in several days later.  I was diagnosed with stage 2, grade 3 invasive ductal carcinoma  – breast cancer. Not only that, but my cancer is also HER2 positive. Only 15-20%  of women with breast cancer are diagnosed as HER2 positive . It is an aggressive form of breast cancer that carries a risk of recurrence .  My world was instantly shattered. Sadness, disbelief, anger, and fear took over. One week later, on March 20, 2024, I underwent a total mastectomy of my right breast. It was all so surreal, and I kept asking myself, “Why is this happening to me? Am I going to die?” The mental journey was more challenging  than the physical… I am still trying to process everything. Now what lies in front of me is chemotherapy, then radiation, all in combination with an antibody treatment for those with HER2-positive breast cancer, which I will have to do for a year. There are no guarantees of success with what lies ahead, but I’m trying to be optimistic and the doctors feel I stand a strong chance of making a recovery if I take all of these steps. I started chemotherapy on May 8, 2024, in addition to Perjeta and Herceptin. I have done two rounds so far. My second round was yesterday! I am hanging in there OK. I will be doing six rounds in total. I’m trying to remain positive and keep faith that once I get through all of this, the best is yet to come for me! I have such a new appreciation for life and for the people in my life, that’s for sure! Read More: HER2+ Breast Cancer Different Types of Breast Cancer The Psychological Impact of Breast Cancer: Strategies for Coping Cancer Is Not Going to Beat Me Next Thing Next, Following Your Heart On the Podcast: Breast Cancer Conversations Triple Positive Breast Cancer Under 30 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 Susan Angoy I booked a private mammogram for 12:30 p.m. on October 20, 2021. This was just to be on the cautious side, you understand. It had been three years since my previous scan, and there was a backlog in the NHS screening program due to Covid. One of my sisters had been diagnosed with stage 2 breast cancer earlier in the year, so I thought I should have a scan. I had been experiencing some pain  in my right tit and underarm, but of course, everyone knows that you don’t feel pain from breast cancer. Or so I (mis)understood. A regular routine scan is what I thought I was going for. After all, it couldn’t happen to Susan. No sirree! Susan and her tits were invincible. Weren’t they? I sat in the waiting room of the clinic, waiting for the radiologist to review my mammogram before getting the all clear  that would allow me to skip off to do a spot of shopping. I had not been to Selfridges since pre-Covid days so I sat making a mental list of what I might treat myself to. I planned to indulge in some retail therapy. So certain was I that the technician would come to let me know I could leave with a report of immaculate and healthy tits, I was looking forward to my shopping trip – not an activity I normally enjoy. I was thus unprepared for the nurse who came to tell me that the consultant radiologist wanted to do an ultrasound and physical examination of my perfectly formed elevations . Even those words failed to alert me to what was to follow. “Have you lost weight recently?” the kind nurse asked me. You’d think that by now I might be a tad anxious, but no. After all, Susan was invincible. As it happened, I had lost a little weight , but that was because I’d been experiencing a lot of nausea, headaches, and weird dizziness, so I had been eating very little for three weeks or so. I put those symptoms down to some bug I must have picked up. A nuisance, but nothing to be concerned about. I was so unconcerned that I failed to mention any of this to the nurse. What followed was the start of the nightmare I continue to live through. Not a nocturnal nightmare confined to sleeping hours, but one that envelops my every waking moment. I don’t sleep much. In fact, I’d say I hardly sleep at all. “I think you may have a carcinoma in your right breast, based on the mammogram, ultrasound and my physical examination. There is a palpable mass that looks very suspicious and not one for which I can immediately find an alternative explanation. I’m very sorry to tell you this. You understand, I have to tell you.” Those were the consultant’s words. He went on to explain that I would need to have a biopsy to confirm his suspicions, and to indicate the grade and stage of the tumor and to identify its receptors . I stared at the doctor. I heard the words, but failed to fully take them in. For a change, Susan was speechless. You hear stories of people being in shock when receiving bad news. Now I really understand the meaning of those words. He realized I was in shock and gently explained my options and next steps. I could remain within the private sector; alternatively, they would immediately refer me back into the NHS. Given that my local hospital was University College London Hospital, I would be assured of excellent and swift treatment. He went on to say that if I were his relative, his advice would be that I should be treated within the NHS on the urgent Cancer Pathway 2-week referral. He advised me that his report would be with my GP within half an hour and that I should contact the GP that afternoon. I agreed that this would be the best option and left the clinic. I left. But I was still the deer caught in the headlights. All thoughts of retail therapy had vanished from my brain. I wanted to cry but couldn’t. My only action was to order an Uber to get me home as quickly as possible. Although it was only 2:00 p.m. I wondered if I should mix a stiff gin and tonic to steady myself. But even that was impossible. The damn nausea I was having made it impossible for me to drink anything more than a glass of water when I got home. From the moment I got back, things moved very quickly. By 3:00 p.m. my GP, Dr. Jessica Baron, rang me, having received the report. She told me that she had already sent the referral to UCLH on the Cancer Pathway, but asked if I wanted to come in to talk to her and to be examined . All props to my GP practice, the James Wigg Group Practice and especially Dr. Baron. I saw no point in any further examinations and didn’t want to waste her time going over what I’d already been told. She explained the process in a caring and gentle manner. She told me that it looked like it had been caught early and that I shouldn’t worry too much. There were excellent advances and treatments available. Only part of my brain took in what I was being told.  If I had experienced nausea in the weeks before that date, they were nothing in comparison to what I felt listening to her words . The reality was gradually penetrating my consciousness. The unthinkable had happened. My precious tits had been attacked and a major assault would be forthcoming. The following day I received a phone call from UCH Macmillan Cancer Centre to book an urgent appointment in their breast clinic. Immediately after taking that call, I went online and bought a series of expensive and very sexy bras. I had no impending “hot date” or specific reason for buying them that day. But somewhere hovering in my brain was the thought that perhaps time was running out for me to wear my favorite items of lingerie. Funny how such trivial things can come into your mind at the most serious moments. A very senior medical friend and my oncologist cousin talked to me about the excellent survival rates for early-stage breast cancer, how treatments have advanced – including their side effects . They spoke of how surgical intervention could be minimal if caught at a sufficiently early stage, etc. They may be eminent physicians, but they are both men. How could they understand? I heard the words, but my brain looped back to my thoughts of decades earlier.  I am not a young woman at the start of her emotional and sexual life, but I am a woman. I am a woman who has been a widow for two and a half years and have just started getting my life back together again, making plans for my future. I am a woman who has recently begun to take tentative steps towards breaking a long period of celibacy, hopeful of forming new attachments  and having adventures. These are difficult spaces to navigate at the best of times. I feel out of step. I’ve forgotten the rules and the mystical ways of attracting and engaging with others in a romantic and erotic context. Now this. Why? How could I ever be the same again? I might stay alive, but what would that life be like? Would I still feel feminine? Would I still be desirable – to myself, let alone to anyone else? What will my body look like when the surgeon, radiation, and drugs have finished with me? Will I still feel anything ? Anyway, how does anyone know it was caught “early enough?” At times, I rage. Other times, I weep. At times, I feel vain and petty worrying about these issues when the medical teams are focused on my survival and trying to reassure me about the curability of early-stage breast cancer. Other times, I think of women whose cancer has not been detected early . But none of that changes my reality. A few days after that phone call, I sat in the UCH Macmillan Cancer Centre in Huntley Street, London. I sat on the same seat where I’d spent nearly three years, from 2015 to 2018, waiting with my late husband for his appointments. He had been diagnosed with stage 4 prostate cancer and died in the Hampstead Marie Curie Hospice in early 2019. I looked at the cheerful bright mosaic floor in the waiting area and those years came flooding back as if they were yesterday. Not only was I living my own reality, but I was catapulted back into all those weeks, months and years of anguish and grief . This time, I sat alone. Waiting. Connect with Susan: Blog Read More: Newly Diagnosed Why a Second Opinion Matters for Breast Cancer 9 Early Warning Signs of Breast Cancer You Shouldn’t Ignore Understanding Your Pathology Report: A Comprehensive Step-By-Step Guide Navigating Cancer Treatment: Top Tips from an Oncology Pharmacist On the Podcast: Breast Cancer Conversations Finding Your Voice With Brenda Denzler & Elaine Schattner 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 Dani Romano I took a picture of my healing body today. I had my medi-port (IV port) taken out three mornings ago. (I thanked my port in pre-op before it was removed.) The picture I took just now shows a multitude of colors as the bruising spreads from where the port used to be. Much of it is hidden under the suture cover, which is also covered with medical glue. It is an interesting array of colors. It would probably gross some people out. To me it is beautiful. It is my time to heal. Cancer “recovery” (for lack of a better word) is a difficult time and most would probably say, “You healed from a list of things over the last two years, Dani; why do you say NOW is your time to heal?” Sure. It has been a long two years, with many, many things to heal from . And obvious physical things: IV chemotherapy, immunotherapy, procedures, hospitalizations, surgery, radiation, oral chemo. But I did not and still do not consider that I was healing after any of those things. Let me explain. While I was undergoing a long course of radiation, it got to the point where my skin was falling off, like in small chunks in the shower. Sure the skin started to grow back and the colors lightened and lightened, but at no time while crying over what was left on the shower floor did I feel like, “Wow, look at that, I am healing!” IV chemo, immunotherapy, and oral chemo (well, what I was able to tolerate before my liver caused a quick stop) destroyed many things in my body, and I am now in the process of seeing a myriad of doctors to try to fix as much of that as I can, so did I see myself healing from that? Nope. But now, as I pass my two-year mark of my diagnosis date and have had my port removed, I see this beautiful bruising changing each day and say, “It is now finally, FINALLY, my time to HEAL.” Read More: Cancer Sucks, and That’s Okay Moving forward but not moving on… Once a Patient, Always a Patient On the Podcast: Breast Cancer Conversations 11 Years of Survivorship: A Breast Cancer Survivor’s Story 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 Mandy Richardson My diagnosis came as a shock, as I think it does for many people. I was still young . I was actively breastfeeding. And I was relatively healthy. I remember, a couple of times, being told by someone that they wished they could take the cancer for me. As moving as that sentiment was, I didn’t wish that.  1. I wouldn’t wish a cancer diagnosis or treatment on my worst enemy. 2. I knew I was in what you could probably call the best position to fight and beat it.  I had my “youth” and “health” going for me. And I think you could see that in how my body handled the chemo. I was tired. Very tired. But I didn’t get physically sick, or have the joint pain that so often goes along with Adriamycin/Cytoxan (AC) chemo. But I also knew a little bit about fighting, and advocating for myself.  My self-advocacy started before my cancer diagnosis, when I was facing fertility challenges. When I couldn’t sustain a pregnancy, after two years, I asked to see a fertility specialist. At first, I was denied by my current OBGYN. While I was told the rule of thumb was to see a specialist if I couldn’t get pregnant within a year, I was simultaneously told that didn’t apply to me because I COULD get pregnant, I just couldn’t sustain it. I called the office and told the receptionist to never schedule me with that doctor again, then requested an appointment with the office’s physician that usually handled infertility cases. He agreed to see me. Not long after that, after yet another miscarriage, I was with yet another doctor and asked about any connection between thyroid disorders and miscarriages. I was told that’s not likely. I hadn’t had my thyroid checked since before getting pregnant with my oldest, but I knew I had a family history of thyroid problems. I told him I had good insurance, and I wanted my bloodwork done.  Sure enough, my thyroid-stimulating hormone (TSH) levels came back incredibly high. I started seeing a specialist at an actual infertility clinic, and my reproductive endocrinologist started me on medications for the first time ever to treat hypothyroidism. That story had a happy ending, and we welcomed our little rainbow baby in October 2020. Advocating for yourself is a lot like giving yourself grace. So often, we’re asked, would you talk to a friend going through something similar the same way you talked to yourself? It may, at times, be easy to see that a friend or relative needs to push for a second opinion , yet when it comes to ourselves, there are at least a dozen reasons we might tell ourselves not to. We’re too busy; we don’t have time for that. We trust our original doctors at their word. So-and-so had the “same thing” and was just fine. Sometimes we really just don’t want to know. Deep down, we know there’s a journey ahead and we’d rather stay off that road. But if a second opinion is only an “opinion,” that means that’s all the first was as well. Don’t accept an opinion. Make them give you the facts. And if they can’t, then they need to get them. This experience came into play later on during my breast cancer diagnosis and treatment. For more on this part of my story, check out my previous blog post: Breast Cancer at 33: A Young Mom’s Story of Self-Advocacy . I wouldn’t, in a million years, wish that someone else would go through my experience for me. It was a hard road, and certainly not one I ever want to travel again. But I fought, and I won, and I learned so much about my own strength and resilience in the process. While I would often joke that “my body hates me” or “my body tried to kill me,” it’s also gotten me through all of that stuff. I’d still rather be me. Check out Mandy’s other blog posts: Breast Cancer at 33: A Young Mom’s Story of Self-Advocacy Once a Patient, Always a Patient Read More: Breast Cancer in Young Women: Common Questions Answered The Role of Hormones in Breast Cancer Why A Second Opinion Matters for Breast Cancer 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

By Dania Francis Read Dania’s breast cancer story: Thoughts on October: Breast Cancer “All Too Aware” Month Every morning for 5 weeks. I park my car, walk down the long path, check in while patients much older than me can’t help but stare , and I smile as I stick out my right wrist to get my ID band placed by the nice front desk staff. I walk down the hall. The first day I was a bit lost with each turn, but now I know exactly where to go. I find my locker, lucky number 23, and I grab my XXL gown and get changed. I take the same seat every morning and look around the waiting room. Some women are reading, some are there for the first time, and some are almost done. I smile at whoever is looking, and make a connection. A 41-year-old woman just like me with the same diagnosis of triple negative breast cancer  (TNBC), she’s from Italy originally and has a beautiful accent. We talk about our Italian culture and how hard this has all been. We exchange numbers and offer each other comfort and good wishes for the day. We are on the same schedule and will end our radiation within two days of one another. She is struggling with knee pain from immunotherapy and I offer her some advice to talk to her doctor about. A 35-year-old woman is holding a big tub of chocolate biscotti to give to the radiation team, because she heard that’s what you should do. I tell her I’m a nurse and that we always appreciate that. We smile at each other and I learn that she is halfway through her treatment for triple positive breast cancer . I wish her luck as the tech calls my name. An 85-year-old woman is here for her first day of treatment for HR+ breast cancer . She is nervous and unsteady on her feet. Her daughter comes back with her to help her get into her gown. She sits down next to me. I smile at her and tell her everything will be okay. She smiles at me and I can tell she feels sorry I am so young . She reaches her hand to my arm and squeezes gently. The tech calls her name and I wish her luck. I look forward to seeing her tomorrow. I only have five more mornings in this waiting room after today... and I will remember the connections I made forever. Maybe it’s the nurse in me, or the desire to connect with others on this path. The waiting room is a special place for me. About the author: Dania is 41 and lives in NY with her husband and two small children. She is a Family Nurse Practitioner, Yoga teacher, and certified Reiki healer. She is a stage 2 Triple Negative Breast Cancer Thriver. Read More: Thoughts on October: Breast Cancer “All Too Aware” Month Different Types of Breast Cancer Breast Cancer in Young Women: Common Questions Answered On the Podcast: Breast Cancer Conversations Radiation Therapy: What Every Breast Cancer Thriver Needs 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 Brookshire McDonald After the death of my husband in 1996, I waited the suggested year and moved from Mandeville, Louisiana to my birth city of Raleigh, N.C. Two of my five children had asked if they could get married, and I replied, “If I’m not moving the week of your weddings!” Back in Raleigh, I fell from a ladder while hanging wreaths outside on my windows. Who would have thought my rescuer would be an exterminator who kills bugs and fleas! I had emergency surgery on my shattered knee, followed by a second and third surgery, a blood clot, and a month in a nursing home followed by six months of live-in care at home. I was due for a mammogram , but was told it could not be performed in a wheelchair (which was false). When I finally could stand, I had my mammogram and was called to their office during their lunch hour. The nurse, seeing me on crutches, blurted, “Oh, you have that, too!” The doctor verified I had breast cancer . I was denied a double mastectomy, and instead had a single mastectomy. My surgeon informed me if my lymph nodes were clear, I would not need chemo. My oncologist did order chemo after seeing the pathology report . The pathology report showed that my cancer was estrogen negative, progesterone positive, and HER2/neu positive . I always thought he prescribed chemo because of that, but I never really knew. Two years to the day later, I was diagnosed with breast cancer in the remaining breast. I changed surgeons and had my second mastectomy, followed by treatment with an aromatase inhibitor for five years. As a widow, I hated to part with my 36 DD, which I thought was my only asset! I later found many new assets! Experiencing humor along my journey was MOST helpful! Examples: My grandson yelling to his older brother after seeing my wig in my hand, “Come quick, GeeGee has just take-ed her hair right off the top of her head!” Poking a hole in my post-surgery drain while pinning it to my gown and having to call my doctor at 10:30 p.m., receiving instructions to DUCT TAPE it!  Another survivor saying she didn’t want implants because she would rather put her prosthesis on the shelf at night and opt for a different size every morning!    I had two mastectomies, reconstruction , areola tattoos, a hysterectomy, hip replacement, and three surgeries on my knee: 10 surgeries in nine years. Keep moving forward and explore new interests. Mine were performing hearing tests on newborns, signing (not singing!) the national anthem at the Miracle League baseball games for special needs children, and involvement with adult day care. Find humor on your journey, be your own advocate  and follow your heart. On August 8, 2024 I will celebrate 20 years of Thrivership! P.S. AFTER being diagnosed, I discovered I had five aunts who had breast cancer , but the “C” word was never said back then. My cancers were two primaries, and my middle daughter was diagnosed during the Covid-19 pandemic with lobular breast cancer . Each of us was negative for the BRCA gene mutation . I love my sisters I’ve gained (even though my mother said I would never have a sister), and wish each of you well.     Love and hugs,  Your Patron Saint Read More: Different Types of Breast Cancer Understanding Your Pathology Report: A Comprehensive Step-By-Step Guide Understanding Genetic Testing for BRCA1 and BRCA2 Mutations On the Podcast: Breast Cancer Conversations Granting Wishes Brings Joy with Elesha Snyder & Jan Hillman 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 Trudy Trybulski  In 2016, I was 63 and not long retired. I noticed a change in the shape of my left breast and went to see my doctor, who quickly referred me to the hospital where I had a mammogram and biopsy . Three weeks later, it was confirmed that I had breast cancer . Tissue samples showed I had stage 3, grade 3 invasive ductal carcinoma (breast cancer). I received the treatment  that goes along with this sort of diagnosis: lumpectomy, three cycles of FEC (fluorouracil, epirubicin hydrochloride, and cyclophosphamide) chemotherapy, three cycles of docetaxel chemotherapy,  three weeks of radiotherapy, Herceptin targeted therapy, and letrozole hormone therapy. I began to walk about the hospitals like a professional cancer patient.  Five years later, in 2021, I was diagnosed with a recurrence of the same cancer in the same breast which was also stage 3, grade 3. My oncologist recommended a left breast mastectomy, but I made a case to have a double mastectomy as I knew I would not cope very well with one large breast. I turned down chemotherapy and Herceptin, but agreed to zoledronic acid infusions and letrozole following the double mastectomy. I have no regrets at all about the double mastectomy . I knew that mentally I would not cope well with one breast, implants, or any reconstruction . Three years post-mastectomy, I have an amazing tattoo covering my missing breasts and scars. I’d never had a tattoo before. At age 70 I am now converted and love my new upper body. It has given me confidence and joy. I designed the tattoo myself working alongside an amazing tattooist. He created something inspiring that tells a unique story about the threads of my life . My experience with cancer has actually enhanced my life. I’ve made changes to who I live with, developing my own home into a safe peaceful sanctuary. I have surrounded myself with amazing friends and neighbors . My family supported me, but also we have developed our already strong and caring relationship , I would say with a deeper love and understanding of our importance to each other. I have left people on the wayside too, people who wanted to drain my positivity or offered me more stress. I am currently struggling with the side effects of the drugs, particularly letrozole. It is having an effect on my joints and muscles. Constant pain is hard to live with, so it’s time to up my resistance. My plan is to get back into the gym and do more weight-bearing exercises. I want to get that feel-good factor back in my body. I’ve decided to let my hair grow, show off my tattoos, and let myself flourish—well that’s the plan, anyway! Luckily I love sports and swimming, but also chocolate and wine! Breast cancer or any cancer doesn’t have to mean the end of a fulfilling life . Yes, it can cause difficulties and tough endings for some. I suppose it’s about making the most of what you have and who you are, and celebrating the good things in your life. I know this sounds like a cliché, but as a person affected by cancer, I feel I have the right to say it. I’ve had many say to me things like, “You could get run over by a bus,” or, “We all have to die sometime.” These statements are really not helpful, because the bus is right in front of my face. I’ve learnt to understand the fear that others have around cancer, allowing them to voice that fear to me. As I watch the rain, typing this with my wrists aching from carpal tunnel syndrome, I wonder at the beauty of it . I’m looking forward to the spring and what delights that will bring. Read More: Exploring Breast Reconstruction Surgery: Pros and Cons Navigating Relationships After a Breast Cancer Diagnosis The Choice to Go Flat 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

By Michelle Sandlin In June of 2021, I was in the best shape of my life, or so I thought. I wasn’t overweight. I didn’t drink. I didn’t smoke. I didn’t do drugs. I was working out like a maniac, six days a week. I looked great. I felt great. But guess what? None of that mattered because cancer don’t care. That’s when I found a lump in my right breast. I was in utter shock and disbelief. It didn’t make any sense. As far as I knew, my risk factors for developing breast cancer  were very low. My mom didn’t have breast cancer. My grandmothers didn’t have breast cancer. It seemed so random, and completely unexpected. But I was familiar with the statistic: one in eight women. Now I was the one. The day I was diagnosed , I was forced to learn many new words and terms. The first being invasive ductal carcinoma . The second being triple-negative breast cancer  (TNBC). And then a few weeks later, a third one was added to the mix. It was BRCA1 gene mutation . Yep, I had that too. Those were the three things that pretty much dictated my treatment strategy. It looked like this: 16 rounds of chemo over the course of 5 ½ months, followed by a double mastectomy and reconstruction surgery, and finally the preemptive removal of my ovaries and fallopian tubes. That was the medical strategy.  I also implemented and enforced a personal strategy, which proved to be critical and highly effective for my emotional wellbeing. It looked like this: maintain a positive attitude; keep toxic people and negative thoughts at bay; work out  as much as possible; listen to my body; lean on my family, friends, and faith; stay in the moment, then let it go; use meditation  to combat anxiety; no tears; no Google; no downward spiral. The idea was to develop a philosophy around controlling what I could control during this out-of-control time. And I documented every moment along the way, sharing personal messages, photos, and videos on social media. This helped tremendously with the crippling feelings of isolation  that I experienced throughout my treatment. It also let people keep up with me and my progress and be able to see for themselves how I was doing. I wanted to be able to share the raw, emotional, candid moments. I wanted to share my message of love, hope, encouragement, motivation, inspiration, and the importance of community. I hoped others would be able to benefit from my experience. Then on Valentine’s Day 2022, I received the best news possible. That’s when my breast surgeon told me I was cancer-free! CANCER-FREE!  This was just a few days after my double mastectomy. She introduced me to yet another new term: pathological complete response, meaning that there was no residual invasive cancer in the tissue that was removed during surgery. My prayers had been answered. In the months that followed, I realized I needed to process everything that had happened. There was no time to do that when I was first diagnosed, and certainly no time to do that when I was in the throes of treatment, surgery, healing, and recovery. So now that I was on the other side, it was time to process .  That’s when I decided to write a book. To share my thoughts, feelings, and insights about my breast cancer experience. Everything I had been through—physically, emotionally, and spiritually—and what it’s like to be on the other side. To lift the veil and share the most intimate, personal details. To share the many life lessons that were woven into my journey. To share my perspective about life after cancer. And ultimately, to help and inspire others, and give them hope, regardless of the battle they may be fighting or the struggles they may be facing. To shine the light on the road to healing and inner peace. My hope is that others will benefit from my story. About the Author:  Michelle Sandlin is an award-winning writer and bestselling author. She spent the better part of the past decade as a freelance writer and columnist. During that time, she wrote a weekly column for the Houston Chronicle, which ran from 2013 through 2020. Originally from Shreveport, Louisiana, Michelle currently lives in Houston with her husband, Kenny, and their English Bulldogs, Max and Stella . She published a book about her breast cancer experience, Cancer Don’t Care , in January 2024. For more information about Michelle, please visit her website: www.MichelleSandlin.com . Read More: A New and Unexpected Life Understanding Genetic Testing for BRCA1 and BRCA2 Mutations Remember You Are Not Alone 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

By Dania Francis Although most people know that October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month, many do not realize what a tough month it is. For someone newly diagnosed, in active treatment, someone who has lost someone to this awful beast, and even survivors and thrivers, it is difficult. It is in our face every day, and there is so much pink everywhere. October has always been my favorite month. It is the first month that starts to really feel like fall… the crisp air, sweatshirts, pumpkin spice coffees (man I miss being basic), wineries, football, and fun outings. October is also the month I brought my daughter into this world—a daughter we fought pretty hard to have—so yes, October holds a special place in my heart. I started hating the month this past October because it was just too much to handle. All the stories and research and clinical trials flooding my feed… all the 5Ks and “Fun Runs” and all the pink... need I say more? But I’ve also read some posts about “Reclaim October,” and I know that has more to do with stopping corporations and companies from “pink washing,” which is just cruel and ridiculous. Slapping pink ribbons and catchphrases on their sites to attract sales that may not even be going anywhere important for the breast cancer research  we still need. So, I decided after 2/8 rounds of chemotherapy done, and some October still left, I was also going to reclaim October—for myself, and for my daughter. I dressed up for the first time in a while and attended a beautiful wedding. To my surprise, I also felt beautiful. People told me I was glowing and looked so beautiful, in the pictures and at the wedding. And I decided, you know what? My husband’s 92-year-old nanny was right. When I was first diagnosed, she told me to get mad at it. The cancer. I didn’t understand at the time, because all I could do was cry. But this is how I will reclaim my October. The brighter I can shine and the more I can glow, that is me showing this cancer who’s boss. Cancer, you may have taken my boobs and some other things from me… but I will not let you take my shine. I will not let you win. Every time someone tells me I’m glowing, I will be sure to let you know I am still winning. Breast Cancer Awareness Month, thanks for getting in everyone’s faces. Because if it’s not actually in your face every day, you may not pay attention as much. I know I didn’t pay as much attention until now… and I’m hoping all those I reach are more aware now, too.   I am so lucky to have such   amazing support from family and friends  (that act like family) all around me, and all others I have known through the years that have supported me in so many ways. I cherish every single one of you and hold so much space for all of you. Sending you so much love and light always. Thank you for giving me hope and strength during this heavy time. And to my husband, who makes me feel beautiful and tells me I’m glowing every single day since being diagnosed, while taking care of me and our two children every day. Here’s to many more Octobers to shine and sparkle, even in pink. About the author: Dania is 41 and lives in NY with her husband and two small children. She is a Family Nurse Practitioner, Yoga teacher, and certified Reiki healer. She is a stage 2 Triple Negative Breast Cancer Thriver. Read More: Hearing the words “You have cancer” is heavy The Cost of Breast Cancer Cancer Etiquette: How to Talk With Loved Ones About Their Breast Cancer On the Podcast: Breast Cancer Conversations The Dollars Behind the Cure: Where Does it Actually End Up? 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 Dawn Oswald [Passed away December 15, 2023] Dawn joined SurvivingBreastCancer.org (SBC) in 2020. She immediately stepped forward to become part of our SBC Metastatic Breast Cancer (MBC) Leadership Team and has taken a very active role in leading our MBC support group on Thursdays. Dawn is a loving soul and always offered support, advice, and friendship. In addition, for the last two years Dawn has been crocheting beanies for SBC that would be sent to those newly diagnosed with breast cancer throughout the U.S. Dawn has crocheted over 100 beanies for the community! Several members of our community had the pleasure of meeting Dawn when she came to visit Boston as well as when we attended the MBC conference held by Living Beyond Breast Cancer in Philly in April 2023. Read Dawn's blog about the conference! It is with a very heavy heart that MBC has taken the life of this beautiful person leaving behind her children, husband, and grandchildren. The Poetry Lab Dawn also contributed significantly to our SBC Poetry Lab. Please read and enjoy several of Dawn's original writings: Going Home How Can I Change It's Still Me Joy Love. Yes Love. Lymphedema My 4 Roses New Day The Mask Words Rollercoaster Scans Sick Sweet or Spicy Time The Choices The Light of My Legacy The Plane Today then Tomorrow Waves You're Worth It What People in the SBC Community are saying Julia: Prayers up for our dear fearless friend Dawn Debra: T he last time she texted me was 12:45 Tuesday. And I replied to her about 1ish Tuesday. Then today when I was at my oncologist I sent her a copy of a sign that says never give up. This is what I sent her. Jennifer Fuller: I was just thinking of Dawn this morning. Was going to ask tonight if there were any updates on Dawn. So sorry to hear this news. She is in my thoughts. Sorry, I couldn’t make it to todays zoom go her. Lisa Lewis: I'm sending love and support to Dawn and her family!  Many prayers too. Julie Cottrell: I had been wondering how Dawn was doing. Dawn may not know it, but she helped me in deciding to be a mentor with ABCD. She told me about ABCD mentorships. I always admired her on the calls in my early SBC days when she was in Alaska. Ashifa Shaw: Dawn,  I am so grateful that I had the opportunity to meet through SBC. Your hats warmed my heart and made me feel a connection.  Continued love & support on your journey. Xoxo Andrea Magni: Dawn Oswald⁩ you are a bright soul and I love seeing the things you’ve created to warm others. Sending you lots of love and thinking of you and your beautiful family. Melanie Clippinger: Dawn you are such a kind, giving, amazing woman.Sending lots of love to you and your beautiful family. Julie she also inspired me to become an ABCD mentor also. Renata: When I joined the SBC family, I felt a great connection to you, Dawn. You were in Alaska back then and you had the same metastasis I had, and were on the same treatment I was, only several steps forward than me. I followed you as a guide, an inspirational guide. When you started Enhertu, I went to my oncologist asking if I could have it but I couldn't yet. When I was allowed to have it, I felt closer to you. Then for me everything changed, but that connection is still strong. Please, keep fighting. I love you and I pray for you and your family. Brookshire: Dawn, you remain on my mind this morning. Your husband and children are there, too. My heart overflows with inspiration from you. You are one of th sisters my mother said I would never have! Love you lots. Dawn’s obituary may be viewed here: https://www.charliemarshallfuneralhomes.com/obituaries/dawn-oswald Please feel free to make a donation in honor of Dawn Oswald.

About Kristen Carter [Passed away October 17, 2023] Kristen Carter was a certified coach, an author who encouraged readers to be their true authentic selves, and a beautiful woman unfortunately living with metastatic breast cancer. Kristen was part of the SurvivingBreastCancer.org MBC Leadership team and an avid writer responding to inquiries through her Dear Kristen blog . Thank you, Kristen, for being such a formative part of our organization! Read Kristen's writing: Scanxiety Reassurance for Genetic Testing How to Deal with Brain Fog Living Without Regrets How to Feel Positive About Life Again Coping with Survivor's Guilt My Animal Companion Has Been With Me Throughout Breast Cancer Do Positive Thoughts Help You Heal? New Meanings and Shifting Priorities How Do I Find ME Again? No Matter Your Weight, Shape, or Size, You Matter. Tips for Managing Mood Swings and Breast Cancer Self-Love Comes First Life and Cancer Lessons From a Wet Wedding Putting Yourself First Why Won't My Teenager Talk To Me About My Diagnosis? Reconnect With Your Inner Strengths Cancer Helped Me Find Myself The Alternative To Feeling Like A Victim Creating Your Legacy Dealing with the Stress of Having Metastatic Breast Cancer (MBC) What People in the SBC Community are saying Laura: Kristen was a joy! She brought so much to our SurvivingBreastCancer.org community! She served on our MBC leadership team and wrote many blogs as part of her “Dear Kristen” corner! Abigail: Kristen was such a valued member of our community and she will be missed, greatly. May her life and legacy be a blessing to all. Gabby: I am so sorry to read about Kristen’s passing, heartfelt condolences. Amy: I enjoyed reading your post. We will continue to carry your legacy. Holding space for your family! Dawn: I met her in Colorado at the beginning of the year.  She was such a sweet lady. She even text me happy birthday on Oct 9th. I had no ideal She was that sick. I pray for her to rest in peace and I pray for her family. She will be missed and her articles. God bless her and her family. I love you my pink sister. Lisa: I've been thinking about Kristen a lot lately missing her pieces in the newsletters. So very sad. Prayers to everyone in SBC and her family.   Pooja: Kristen’s newsletters were very informative. May her soul rest in peace.

By Briana Rickertsen When I imagined my first wedding anniversary, I envisioned drinking bubbly while exploring a fun mountain town. While I ended up enjoying that bubbly, I could never have imagined it would be at the end of my first chemo cycle – during a staycation filled with hand sanitizer, face masks, and social distancing. Let’s back it up to May 2020. It was about six weeks into the COVID-19 pandemic. I noticed that my breast tissue felt off . I couldn’t find a lump, but I found myself thinking that my right side felt different than my left. I noticed a drop of blood on a white t-shirt and realized it came from my nipple. And yes, I googled what this could be. After a telehealth appointment, diagnostic mammogram, ultrasound, and biopsy, I found out that what I had found in my google search was true. I was diagnosed with invasive ductal carcinoma on July 1, 2020 at the age of 35 . The next four weeks were a whirlwind of daily appointments to prepare for chemotherapy, a failed attempt at fertility preservation, and the discovery that I had a BRCA2 mutation  – all while learning this new medical language. While my cancer was aggressive, so was the treatment. I began 20 weeks of chemotherapy (Adriamycin and Cytoxan followed by Taxol) at the end of July. I knew from the day of my diagnosis that I would have chemo, followed by surgery and then likely radiation. Finding out I had a BRCA2 mutation was a shock, but ultimately this helped to make necessary decisions about surgery options and future treatment approaches. I decided to have a bilateral mastectomy after chemo, and a preventative oophorectomy later that year. I was coming out of the rough days of my first chemo cycle when my first wedding anniversary arrived. I had started to pick up energy, and I was able to thoroughly enjoy the surprise staycation my husband planned. While our wedding vows had talked more about adventuring and not saying no to making additional bike purchases, he didn’t need a more traditional vow of sickness or health to be with me every step of the way. Sometimes I feel as though getting diagnosed with cancer during the height of the pandemic would be my first choice if I had to choose when to get diagnosed with a horrible disease. I also have a relatively dark sense of humor; this discussion has not always landed well when I joke about it. For the most part, everyone was under similar considerations and restrictions, and I wasn’t missing out on international travel (a passion of mine). At the beginning of the pandemic, my husband set my bike up on a trainer and I joined the Peloton app. I was able to ride with my friends before work and it was a wonderful way to move and stay connected during a really unexpected and physically isolating time. By the time I noticed my breast symptoms in May 2020, I was using the Peloton app every day. I enjoyed the variety and the ability to take even 10 minutes a day for myself. When I was diagnosed, I made a commitment to myself to keep up my exercise streak. I rode, walked, practiced yoga and strength, and meditated throughout 16 chemo cycles, five surgeries (port placement, double mastectomy, axillary node dissection, bilateral salpingo-oophorectomy, and implant exchange), five weeks of radiation, and one year of targeted treatment (PHESGO) after my surprise HER2 finding post chemo and surgery. I finished active treatment in January 2022 and as of October 2023, I have continued to use the app or bike in some way every day. While you absolutely do not need the specific branded bike or treadmill to maintain an exercise routine, during radiation I decided after 300 rides on a trainer it was time for an actual Peloton bike. Now that some time has passed since the more intense treatment, I have turned more of my time and energy to help fellow survivors reach exercise and movement recommendations through the Instagram account The Nifty 150. My “think big” goals include being able to have free Peloton app access during treatment for cancer survivors, targeted programming, education, and Peloton equipment in cancer centers (and free rentals for those in rural areas). Exercise and movement were a big part of both my cancer and my pandemic experience. As I continue to learn more every day about the benefits of exercise during and after treatment , I want to advocate for greater accessibility for survivors. I’m grateful to have now celebrated more anniversaries over the last three years. I appreciate the ability to continue to move my body and can’t wait to see where we can go. Connect with Bri: Instagram Read More: Exercise and Breast Cancer 9 Early Warning Signs of Breast Cancer You Shouldn’t Ignore Breast Cancer in Young Women: Common Questions Answered Understanding Genetic Testing for BRCA1 and BRCA2 Mutations On the Podcast: Breast Cancer Conversations Is it Safe to Exercise After Being Diagnosed with Breast Cancer? Submit Your Story: Story, Poetry, and Blog Submissions

February 24, 1948 — September 29, 2023 McPherson, KS Linda Louise (Hawkins) Miller, 75, of McPherson, KS, a beloved mother, grandmother, and dedicated teacher, peacefully passed away on Friday, September 29, 2023, surrounded by family at Research Medical Center, Kansas City, MO. She touched the lives of many with her kindness and love. Born on February 24, 1948, in Carrollton, MO, to Lawrence Lee and Louise (Sanger) Hawkins, Linda dedicated her life to nurturing the minds of countless students during her career as a teacher. Her commitment to education not only left a lasting impact on her students but also served as an inspiration to her four children, whom she lovingly raised. Linda graduated from Stet County High School in Missouri and McPherson College. She was a Home Economics teacher, daycare provider, staff trainer at MCDS, and CMA and CNA at The Cedars. Outside the classroom, Linda found solace in her garden and the art of sewing. Her green thumb brought color and joy to any yard she could, reflecting her love for nature’s beauty. Her skillful hands created countless cherished garments, quilts, and crafts, leaving a legacy of her creative spirit. Music filled Linda’s home, as she graced the piano with her talent. She had a deep appreciation for classical music, and enjoyed singing at her local Church of the Brethren. Her love for music has been passed down through the generations, leaving an indelible mark on her family. Linda was not only a devoted mother but also a loving grandmother to five adoring grandchildren. Her warmth and wisdom will live on in their hearts as they carry her legacy forward. She leaves behind cherished memories and a profound impact on her family, friends, and the countless lives she touched throughout her life. Linda Miller will be remembered for her unwavering love, her dedication to education, her green thumb, her musical talents, and her enduring presence in the hearts of those who knew and loved her. Our SurvivingBreastCancer.org community gathered to share memories and condolences to the family.

By Gloria Shoon At the first light; With gratitude in my heart, I connect with self and all of the Universe... Love is always in season; Self-love first of course. I rest often; as I outdream myself, AND make my own adventure... I choose to do this process with GRACE; not perfection... I expect the unexpected; as I co-create magic and miracles with the Universe, for self and all of humanity... This recipe is sure to result in; A KIND HEART, FIERCE MIND; AND BRAVE SPIRIT... I SOAR to my next level within; AND, AS AN AWARENESS AMBASSADOR OF SBC!!! Share your poetry: https://www.survivingbreastcancer.org/submit-breast-cancer-story SurvivingBreastCancer.org Resources & Support: Podcast Weekly Meetup s Free Events

By Michelle LaFlamme I was once a beacon Shining bright both day and night My knowledge of the shore was once revered Appreciated, and Dare I mention feared I was strong and determined Against the jagged slippery rocks And frothing capsizing sea Then they closed the port GPS and computers I think I became redundant Obsolete. My light was retired lenses cracked caked with salt No longer valued except by you My children at sea I became a night light Reminding you of my love When my light burns out No one will remember To change the bulb Will they care? Probably not All that I was Will be forgotten Except by you My children at sea The lighthouse is abandoned Sold at auction, Pennies from heaven Searching for a new keeper Will they be as bright as me? Probably not. You will remember My shining light My children at sea Share your poetry: https://www.survivingbreastcancer.org/submit-breast-cancer-story SurvivingBreastCancer.org Resources & Support: Podcast Weekly Meetups Free Events

By Pooja Jain Words can shatter your world. “You have cancer” – who wants to hear that? But words can also help one to heal, reflect, and recharge. Who knew that? Expressive writing by Thomas Dooley has opened a “Word Wonderland” for me. Zooming every Monday with a group of amazing superwomen and a superman is a treat that we all want to enjoy together. We write our hearts out, enjoy the wonderful poetic world, and we create our own. Thomas gives us a writing prompt to kickstart our thoughts e.g. I feel, I wish, I am …. We share a sentence or two. It never fails to surprise me that usually we are speaking each other’s mind. A group of people sitting miles apart, never met yet so alike… we are all humans… just in different costumes. A poem on “Sea” can bring up a happy childhood memory for one person but can also remind another person of surfing the waves of loss or personal battle and tough times. We have laughed, giggled, and shed tears together. A poem can help break the ice and dive in having a deep, meaningful conversation going… That is my share of expressive writing... Get going and read a poem tonight at your dinner table with your loved ones… Enjoy your own “Word Wonderland”! Share your poetry: https://www.survivingbreastcancer.org/submit-breast-cancer-story SurvivingBreastCancer.org Resources & Support: Podcast Weekly Meetups Free Events

By Dawn Oswald A new day A new Dawn Dawn, um that’s me I start me all over everyday Me Full of life Full of fun Full of caring Caring for you Join me on this new day Caring for you Then care for someone else Start a new day with love Love for one another Make this a day of peace, love and add some laughter Wake up on the right side of the bed Add some cheer, be happy Add Dawn to your life Life of love Love from me to you A new day is precious Start it off right If you don’t like it Then change the way the day is going A new day A new Dawn A new me A new you Share your poetry: https://www.survivingbreastcancer.org/submit-breast-cancer-story SurvivingBreastCancer.org Resources & Support: Podcast Weekly Meetups Free Events

By Brookshire McDonald “April showers bring May flowers” The ancient saying goes. Where to find it etched in stone No one really knows. ‘Tis the year 2023 and to now The weather has changed day to day. The weathermen smile as they aim for perfection In what they say. But even they face a dilemma With predictions they roll out, ‘Cause minute to minute changes Seem to be what the weather’s all about. The daffodils seem as confused As anyone at all As to when to bloom After having been planted in the fall. In Feb. the warm weather came As never before; Winter stayed hibernating As records were broken galore. Taking this as their sign To poke their heads, Daffodils began blooming From everyone’s beds. April moves into May But blooming daffodils are now past. Maybe no saying Should forever last. “Record warmth in Feb. preludes snow in March” Has proved to go well Until the future creates A much different spell. OR changing the dates for seasons Year in and year out, May be the solution Without a doubt! Most probably in the past You did hear The first robin bird seen Means spring is near. Not to ask the following I would be remiss Who would be delegated to reveal to the robins All of this? Spring, winter, summer, fall Come on down south all of y’all! Share your poetry: https://www.survivingbreastcancer.org/submit-breast-cancer-story SurvivingBreastCancer.org Resources & Support: Podcast Weekly Meetups Free Events

By Christie White I want to move. To spin in circles on my lawn in the sun, to dance, to use my breath and feel my muscles To be happy I want my body to feel loose and flowy but strong, to lose the stiffness of work and aches of no sleep and fear of what they could all mean. I trust I am okay but I could be better. I want to be so much better. If I move, I will be better. Share your poetry: https://www.survivingbreastcancer.org/submit-breast-cancer-story SurvivingBreastCancer.org Resources & Support: Podcast Weekly Meetups Free Events

By William Laferriere it’s long been understood that there are no atheists in foxholes, and it follows then, that there are also no libertarians in crises, no jokers at a biopsy, no smiling faces - telling lies at a most inopportune time, no needy pearl clutching busy body know-it-alls, no phony sentimentalists, promising the glow of natural antiseptics, micro organisms for use to dispel malignancies… it’s also understood that Cancer as depicted, an astronomical constellation, has the likeness of a crab crushed under the sandal of Hercules. Share your poetry: https://www.survivingbreastcancer.org/submit-breast-cancer-story SurvivingBreastCancer.org Resources & Support: Podcast Weekly Meetups Free Events

By Michelle Laflamme She is naturally beautiful Gorgeous… He is floored A Peachtree Street hotel Perky bosom Flat abs Dinner and drinks… A rented Mercedes Cost one grand To risk it all… I am not this woman I am his wife He said it wasn’t personal No bosom Fat abs Head hung low No longer naturally beautiful Share your poetry: https://www.survivingbreastcancer.org/submit-breast-cancer-story SurvivingBreastCancer.org Resources & Support: Podcast Weekly Meetups Free Events

By Dawn Oswald December 2022 The light and my legacy The light is my way The light is good The dark is bad, but not all the time In the light I can see You’re so beautiful I can see a beautiful rainbow I can see birds flying high above We need the light to see To see each other In the dark we can see the stars and the moon, but then I can’t see you The light brings me joy You can lose track of time in the light, especially when it is light 20 hours of the day The light brings warmth The dark brings cold The light blooms flowers Flowers from me to you I hope to brighten your day Some people see a white light and live to talk about it That is when I am going to stay away from that bright light Do not go into that light I will fight before going When it is time to go into that good light I hope I am old I hope I put up a good fight I hope I was able to mark off my bucket list I hope I have left my legacy behind Behind to brighten someone else’s day Let’s survive as long as we can and tell our legacy I hope my husband does not follow me into that light I hope he can survive and live longer The light is good The light can be bad if seen way too early The light can be full of beautiful colors Let the light shine on you and guide you Live life bright and full Except the light of the day Make your legacy count Share your poetry: https://www.survivingbreastcancer.org/submit-breast-cancer-story SurvivingBreastCancer.org Resources & Support: Podcast Weekly Meetups Free Events

By William Laferriere They once inculcated a moral response, Within our vaunted, ever-expanding community, Eyes wide open, Hearts and minds filled with hope. Bodies ravaged by Insidious dividing cells, Scalpel scar tissue And deleterious side effects. Their early departure speaks of travesty, We’ll miss their countless contributions Of thoughtful advocacy and decency, Lived experiences and tears. A recent NoHalfMeasures discourse, Enjoins us to develop grief rituals, Remember those left behind, And find the lesson of their lives. And to “Say Their Names.” Share your poetry: https://www.survivingbreastcancer.org/submit-breast-cancer-story SurvivingBreastCancer.org Resources & Support: Podcast Weekly Meetups Free Events

By Lourdes D. Heras Content note: This story references the author’s experience with intimate partner violence (IPV) and sexual abuse. For support and resources, please visit the CDC’s IPV webpage or the National Domestic Violence Hotline. Hello! My name is Lourdes D. Heras. I have been a member of the SBC community since October 2020, when I started attending the Thursday Night Thrivers program days after my double mastectomy. In June 2022 I began my collaboration as the new Director of Community Engagement and co-founder of “Después de un Diagnóstico,” SBC’s new addition of programs offered in Spanish, where we provide educational information and support for the Spanish-speaking community. The Spanish team helps with a variety of tasks at SBC. Together with my colleague Brenda Coronado, I co-host a new podcast: “Después de un Diagnóstico,” a newsletter, and our Tuesday support group, which meets on the third Tuesday of the month. We also assist in art therapy every first Tuesday of the month and very soon we will launch our reading group. We collaborate in the planning of our programs, communicating with members, and also participate in events and conferences. In October 2020, I was diagnosed with estrogen- and progesterone-positive, HER2-negative breast cancer. Through this diagnosis I had many, many difficulties. As if cancer was not enough, I had to protect myself from the person who I thought would be my protector; after all, he was my husband. Sadly, after 18 months of marriage and a cancer diagnosis, he became my abuser. Two days after my mastectomy he sexually abused me, unraveling a series of infections and emergency surgeries. He would also humiliate me with words like, “Look at you, they are taking all your woman parts away,” (since I needed a mastectomy and hysterectomy due to my type of cancer), “You will get it again in 10 years,” and the first words that came out of his mouth: “They are not big enough,” after the first filling of those excruciating expanders. Never a word of encouragement. Never an, “I am here for you” or “We will beat this together.” I suffered a stroke two weeks after finishing radiation, and the hospital nurse advised me to file for a restraining order so that he would not approach me. He violated the initial stipulations of the order seven times. I was finally granted three years of protection for him to stay away from me, and recently finalized my divorce from him. Now, I am very happy to be part of the SBC community, not only professionally but personally. I have a Master’s in Public Health, specializing in healthcare administration. My passions are everything related to diabetes, Alzheimer’s, and breast cancer. More recently I’ve become active in the prevention of intimate partner violence (mental, emotional and sexual) after a cancer diagnosis. This is especially important to me since I was personally affected after my breast cancer diagnosis. Outside of my job with SBC, I am a mother of two beautiful children: Xoe (age 15) and Londen (age 12). I also manage a multidisciplinary department of endocrinology, diabetes and wellness, which I am very passionate about. My team of 60+ people offers various resources for patients in the prevention, treatment and maintenance of diabetes in the state of Arizona. Throughout a cancer diagnosis, I want everyone in the Spanish-speaking community to know that they are definitely not alone. We offer great support through SBC’s resources. I personally want you to know that it is good to look at the glass half full and not half empty. And as for the parts that God gave me and cancer took away, that doesn’t make me any less of a woman. I look forward to seeing you and connecting through SBC’s various resources and programs in Spanish! Learn more: Después de un Diagnóstico Excess Estrogen, Gene Testing, and Beyond Information on Reconstruction Surgery Partner Abandonment and Cancer Thank you for sharing your story, Lourdes. SBC loves you! SurvivingBreastCancer.org Resources & Support: Podcast Weekly Meetups Free Events

By Dr. Antje Petershagen My name is Dr. Antje Petershagen. I am a doctor specializing in rehabilitative medicine, a psycho-oncologist, and a breast cancer survivor. SBC note: According to the American Psychosocial Oncology Society, psycho-oncology is “a cancer specialty that addresses the variety of psychological, behavioral, emotional and social issues that arise for cancer patients and their loved ones.” Art by Dr. Antje Petershagen Illness has accompanied me since early childhood. I cannot remember my body without scars. I have three abdominal scars. The first two I got in 1965, when I was three years old. After a partial ileum resection (intestinal surgery), I needed additional surgeries for adhesive ileus (bowel obstructions). I had adhesive ileus again in 1981. I had additional partial ileum resection and surgery for adhesive ileus in 1996. I have also been diagnosed with pelvic vein thrombosis with subsequent pulmonary emboli. In this context, a factor V mutation was diagnosed, with lifelong anticoagulation therapy. Since not knowing my body was different from others, I never felt really ill. As a little girl, I thought, this is a “normal” body. I worked around many physical problems due to my intestinal issues and diarrhea, but I never held myself back from participating in any adventure. As a child, I was bullied because of my scars (kids can be cruel), and I was very skinny. Gaining weight was a problem since I spent most of my childhood and teenage years in the bathroom. I was shy and the time being hospitalized at a young age, not seeing my parents, not understanding what was going on, left scars in my soul. In these times there was no psychological support, neither for me nor my parents. In early adulthood, despite my additional illnesses, I felt pretty good. I finished my university education, medical school, and even my 5-year internship. Somehow, I am resilient and I know how to cope with illness. In 2012, I was diagnosed with breast cancer, and it was a challenge. I had been seeing my gynecologist for cancer screenings since I was 50. This time, I’d had no symptoms but I felt an inner call to go for the screening. The diagnosis process involved a manual exam, ultrasound, mammogram, and a vacuum-assisted core biopsy. I was diagnosed with highly-moderately differentiated invasive ductal carcinoma and highly to moderately differentiated ductal carcinoma in situ (DCIS), both in the left breast. I proceeded to have surgery to remove the cancer and some surrounding breast tissue. After tissue removal, histology was used to determine whether the surrounding tissue was cancer-free. Twice, surgery did not achieve cancer-free status. However, the lymph nodes were not affected and no metastases were detected. Because the operations were not successful, I decided to have a single left mastectomy. I decided to have reconstructive plastic surgery at the same time. I never regretted this decision. No chemotherapy or radiation was needed. For five years I was on Tamoxifen, an anti-hormonal therapy since I was tested to be hormone receptor positive. In 2014, I was diagnosed with a tumor in the right breast. Luckily it was a benign tumor, called a fibroadenoma, which I had removed surgically. Later, when I started my education to become a psycho-oncologist, I was surprised how much anxiety was expressed in the cancer groups I participated in. Cancer was our topic. We studied so much theory, but meeting the real patients was a challenge for us. We met a young patient who told us her story, never being able to have the life of a teenager, but instead spending months in hospitals. When we got the notice that she died some weeks later, the group was shocked. As a breast cancer survivor, I could relate to patients, empathize with their fears, anxieties, their reactions and comments, and even their thoughts on not continuing with therapy. My colleagues did not take it easily, as they often could not understand the mindset. They had to learn to be empathic, to respect a patient’s decision, and to find skills to open up a healthy dialogue with them. We had intensive training on how to tell someone their diagnosis, and how to stay calm and yet supportive. And here is my strength. I do know how huge anxiety can become, how easily it can arise—unexpected and overwhelming—and how important it is to be open to the emotions, instead of using phrases like, “You are strong” and “You just have to stay positive.” Comments like this do not help at all. Being active in breast cancer support groups gave me the chance to apply my very own experiences. I have three perspectives to look at the topic: as a psycho-oncologist, a doctor, and a patient. It is the perfect experience to support breast cancer patients going through this difficult process, from diagnosis and beyond. Getting diagnosed with cancer means starting a new life; there is no return to the life before. Cancer provided a huge opportunity to change my life. Without cancer I would not have found the motivation to leave my comfort zone, to go beyond inner limitations. Cancer made me so much stronger than before. I’ve gotten more creative since my diagnosis in 2012. In my life after cancer, I reduced my working hours and started writing a book about my journey, which I self published. I also did what I always wanted to do: paint. Art was always important in my life, but I fell in love with watercolor painting after being diagnosed with breast cancer. Slowly, I started to show my art in public. Over the years I became an established artist and showed my work in several exhibitions. I started traveling as a solo traveler in India, hiring a driver and exploring India. And most importantly, I spent a lot of time studying Indian philosophy. I spent time in an ashram and dived deep into my meditation and yoga practice. Ultimately, I completed over 700 hours of yoga teacher training and received my certificate from the Kriya Yoga Center in Passau, Germany. I also teach medicine for students wanting to become yoga teachers. Last year I decided to participate in a mentor program to expand my work as a coach and psycho-oncologist. Cancer was a huge chance for changing my life to the life I always wanted. I don’t overdo things; I choose carefully what I want to do and I learned that “no” is an answer. My focus is now on being a mentor and coach for breast cancer patients, expressing myself through my art, and using art as a tool in my workshops. It took me years to tell my story and to open up about the breast cancer part of my life. But it is important to share my experiences, my story, to support women, and to speak out loud about the illness and its deep effect on my life. When someone goes through breast cancer, they are not the same person as before. But we are all stronger and wiser. Learn more: Different Types of Breast Cancer Rock Painting While Battling Breast Cancer Is Invasive Ductal Carcinoma (IDC) Curable? Fighting Stage 2 Invasive Ductal Carcinoma SBC Art Therapy Programs Transitioning Back Into the Workforce There Is No New Normal; It’s Just Life SBC Resources for the Newly Diagnosed Thank you for sharing your story, Antje. SBC loves you! SurvivingBreastCancer.org Resources & Support: Podcast Weekly Meetups Free Events