While vacuuming her living room on an ordinary day in 2021, 27-year-old Bailey of North Branch, MI, felt a shooting pain in her left breast and later found a small lump. As a medical assistant for an OB-GYN, Bailey had access to great information and care, but she assumed it was likely a cyst because she was so young. She shared, “I’m familiar with people coming in with benign breast conditions, and I really didn’t think much of it—I just went about my business,” which included parenting her 3-year-old son.

But as the week passed, the lump changed quickly: “It went from a small lump to the whole side of my breast hardening up. I knew this was more than a cyst.” She also began to experience other signs and symptoms, such as nipple retraction and veins in the breast becoming more prominent.

After getting an ultrasound scheduled—which again involved waiting and wondering—Bailey learned that the results were abnormal. “My number-one concern through this whole process was having to wait to find out. Everything took forever. I couldn’t get in for four weeks, or I couldn’t do this, or I had to wait another week. Time was just adding up at this point.”

In the midst of all the waiting and testing, Bailey sat her husband down and told him, “I don’t need you to even talk. I don’t need you to say, ‘It’s all going to be ok.’ I just need you to listen to me. It’s very likely that I have cancer, and I have to be able to talk to someone about it, and no one will listen.” While she appreciated the positive sentiments her friends and family had shared up to that point, having someone simply listen to her thoughts and concerns made a tremendous difference.

Eventually, a follow-up biopsy revealed Bailey had invasive ductal breast cancer.

After so many periods of waiting, wondering, and uncertainty, the minute Bailey connected with her breast surgeon at the Karmanos Cancer Center at McLaren Flint Hospital, and her nurse navigator, Penny, everything changed. Penny reassured Bailey throughout her journey: “Penny said she would be there for me, and I knew she meant it. You don’t have anyone who knows how to relate to what you’re going through other than random forums on the internet of people worrying about the same thing, but you’re not talking to them. You’re in your head.” But Penny was able to set Bailey at ease.

The nurse navigator position at Bailey’s cancer facility—and at many other facilities across the country— is made possible through Patient Navigation Program grants from National Breast Cancer Foundation. Navigators like Penny connect patients to a variety of resources to assist them throughout their journey, educate them about their disease and the treatment process, and connect them with financial resources when needed. Perhaps most important to Bailey, NBCF navigators also help facilitate scheduling and treatment plans to ensure they occur in a timely manner.

“Receiving a breast cancer diagnosis can be a very frightening and overwhelming experience,” Penny says. “Patients have many questions, many doctors, many appointments, and often do not know where to start. I’m there to provide assistance and guidance throughout the process, along with emotional support.”

That support came in the nick of time for Bailey, who learned she carries the BRCA2 breast cancer gene mutation. That meant she needed a double mastectomy, followed by 16 weeks of chemotherapy, radiation, and breast reconstruction. Of this treatment process, Bailey shares that she was thankful that she “had more good days during chemo than bad, and that’s a lot to say.”

“Penny was so accessible and she would get back to me ASAP. She told me, ‘Email me anytime, call me, whatever—I’ll take care of you.’ I knew she was my person, I could feel that,” Bailey added. “Penny is a lifesaver. She’s been with me through everything.”

Right now, there are hundreds of patients across the nation who rely on the personalized support provided by NBCF patient navigators. But the bond between navigator and patient doesn’t end when treatment concludes: Many survivors, especially those with financial challenges, still need access to community resources and the kind of support only a patient navigator can offer, often for many years after their initial diagnosis.

Today, Bailey continues to have routine screenings and mammograms to ensure the cancer has not returned or spread. Through it all, Bailey knows she can depend on one thing: Penny will be there for her. “I could not have made it through this without Penny; she’s been my saving grace,” said Bailey. “I am so overly grateful for her. She literally made me feel safe.”

“Being my own self-advocate and having a good team helped me get through my day-to-day. You can have a bad day, and you can cry. You have every right to. Then you get it out and start over.”

NBCF’s mission is to help those facing breast cancer when they need it most. To learn more about NBCF’s Patient Navigation Program or find a navigator in your area, click here.

The post Hope and Support in the Waiting: Bailey’s Experience with Her Patient Navigator appeared first on National Breast Cancer Foundation.

Last year, Tracy touched many hearts and lives when she shared her first “true confessions” with us, offering encouragement and advice after living and parenting with metastatic breast cancer for over 18 years. From being diagnosed with Stage 0 breast cancer in 2001 to Stage 4 metastatic breast cancer in 2003, Tracy will mark 20 years with metastatic breast cancer on November 4, 2023.

This year, Tracy has kindly agreed to share more of the wit and wisdom gained from her breast cancer journey as she prepares for her 20-year “breast cancer thriver” milestone. She shares advice to survivors and thrivers who are moving cities, adapting to a new routine, or preparing for a future filled with hope and new possibilities.

Connect with your community

Community is critical, particularly for those facing cancer. Tracy encourages everyone with breast cancer, even those who are reluctant or who want to take some time for themselves initially, to join a support group.

To foster community in her own life and journey, Tracy joined a support group early in her breast cancer journey and continues to share her experience and support with others. She says she shares her story as a way to give others hope, because “hope can extend your life.” “You just need to [join a support group]. It’s for your health, for your well-being,” she says. “I have realized what a blessing it is to be around other survivors. Now that I’ve been a long-time survivor, it’s still what I need.”

After a recent move from Dallas to Houston, Tracy dedicated herself to re-establishing a community, joining a meet-up group for empty nesters, meeting friends for Mahjong, and, after getting her new puppy—Lucille Ball, named for her red mane—Tracy now enjoys connecting with her neighbors who also have dogs.

Though Tracy is a new resident of Houston, she’s not a stranger to the Houston Metroplex. Tracy was first diagnosed with breast cancer when she lived in The Woodlands, about 40 miles north of Houston, almost 20 years ago. When she moved back to the Houston area, she even reconnected with her former hairstylist, who saw her through cancer treatments and hair loss. “He cut my hair and showed me how to spike it out so it would be fun and helped prepare the kids for no hair, so I immediately went back to him. I didn’t care if I had to drive an hour [to The Woodlands],” she said, noting that she has also had to find a new team of doctors.

While her kids, Trent and Taylor, are off to college, Tracy remains close with both of them. Tracy is also looking forward to a river cruise with her mom and sister as a “catalyst” for more family travel and adventure in the future.

“It doesn’t matter where you live; it’s the people you surround yourself with,” Tracy adds. “I could live in Alaska, and I’m sure it’s beautiful, but it’s all about the people you surround yourself with. Surround yourself with people who support you and lift you up. I think my biggest advice is to have a community around you.”

Find and follow your purpose

“I need a purpose,” Tracy shared. “My kids are gone, and I avoid laundry at all costs—I’d really rather be training my dog and taking her somewhere than doing laundry.” Tracy’s daughter, Taylor, recently even told her that she was sending too many selfies from the couch and that she needed to get out more.

To that end, Tracy loves volunteering with NBCF and other organizations where she can share her time, experience, and compassion. She encourages others to get involved in their community as well: “Give back! I get so much reward out of giving back and from being open and sharing,” noted Tracy, who also regularly volunteers at CanCare in Houston, a one-on-one cancer support community.

Tracy even hopes that Lucille Ball (aka, Lucy) can eventually serve as a therapy or support dog, bringing joy to those in hospitals, schools, or foster care centers. To reach this goal, her star pupil recently graduated from the local “Believe in Dog” intermediate training.

Tracy is also continuing to find herself: “The whole time I lived in Houston, I was ‘Tracy with cancer.’ Everyone knew that I had cancer. So, when I moved to Dallas, nobody knew, and I could just be Tracy again.”

And always have a sense of humor

Hope, faith, connection, and a sense of humor helped Tracy navigate breast cancer treatment when her kids were young, and she still returns to those pillars today.

Presently, Tracy is working on a memoir of her story, and she initially considered calling it, “What the…?” in honor of her son’s former favorite catchphrase and her overall feelings about being diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer.

But now she’s thinking of calling it, “Spoiler Alert: She Lives.”

Just like other breast cancer types and stages, experience and overall prognosis with metastatic breast cancer (MBC) are unique to each individual. To learn more about Stage 4 breast cancer, click here.

National Breast Cancer Foundation is here for you and your loved ones. Whether you need support, education, or help during treatment, we have a team dedicated to getting you the help you deserve.

The post Spoiler Alert: She Lives appeared first on National Breast Cancer Foundation.

Jessica shares her experience, including the emotional connection to her hair and how she used humor to cope.

“Everyone on my healthcare team was direct and transparent about all the side effects of chemotherapy, but when one nurse saw my long blonde hair, she had a look of dread on her face as she reminded me I would lose it. The thought of losing my hair was worse than actually losing it, because I cared more about sparing the feelings of the people closest to me.

I didn’t want them to see me as this sickly being who lost all her agency and was reduced to merely existing. (I was thrilled, however, to learn I wouldn’t have to shave my legs for several months.)

Losing my hair was the first external sign that I was fighting breast cancer, a disease that has affected four generations of my family—11 women—with no known gene mutation. I knew that going bald would bring up feelings of fear and sadness for my family because it would remind them of those we have lost.

The loss of hair is the first external sign that your breast cancer diagnosis is transforming your body, but getting through that first initial shock prepares you for making difficult decisions. Sometimes when we do something new, our brains tell us, “Oh, no. Don’t do that. It’s scary!” The reality is, new experiences are just that: new. They are not inherently dangerous. Our brains keep us safe by helping us stay within the lines of our normal, but when we are confronted with unforeseen challenges, such as those with breast cancer, we have the capacity to do the hard things.

After my second round of chemotherapy, I knew it would be time to shave my head, and for no logical reason, I decided that if I put my hair on top of my head in a messy bun, I would somehow be able to keep it. But hanging on to what was inevitably dying—my hair—made the experience worse. It matted onto my head and caused immense tension on my scalp, which scared me into thinking I had brain metastasis.

When you don’t let go of something that has no more life in it, it causes more pain.

The love child of Uncle Fester and Britney Spears: How humor can help

I called one of my best friends in the middle of the night to come over and shave my head. We made it fun. She gave me a “Karen cut” at first, and I imitated a persona in which I expressed an urgency to speak with a manager. We joked and laughed about it until I was ready for her to shave the rest of it off. 

To my surprise, shaving my head brought me immediate relief. I was no longer hanging on to the fear of losing my hair. It was gone, and I could move forward.

When your insurance company is paying for the most expensive Brazilian of your life (because of chemo), humor is often the answer. I made so many jokes because I looked like the love child of Uncle Fester and Britney Spears. In fact, I went as 2007 Britney for Halloween in 2018. 

I embraced being bald, but I still felt compelled to protect my friends and family from seeing someone they would perceive as sick, so I wore wraps. I found some with long tails, and they reminded me of having my long hair.

Being bald became convenient. I was ready within 15 minutes every day, and I felt cooler when I had hot flashes without the added weight of hair.

Honestly, regrowing my hair was harder than shaving it because there were so many awkward phases. There was the baby bird phase, the chemo-hawk phase, the alpaca phase, and the mullet phase. My hair was stick-straight before cancer, and I would joke that I couldn’t even get it to bend. It came back curly, which presented me with a unique set of issues for maintaining it.

My advice as a breast cancer survivor and hair loss survivor

If you are going through this process, my best advice is to honor your feelings:

Anger tells us that something is wrong, and it needs to change.

Sadness tells us that we give value to something.

Fear tells us to plan, to prepare, and to seek help.

Explore your feelings and use them as tools. 

Why does hair loss happen?

While not all cancer treatments will cause you to lose your hair, some treatments, especially chemotherapy, will cause hair loss. Hair loss typically begins gradually within a couple of weeks of starting chemotherapy. You might find clumps of hair in the shower, on a pillowcase, or hairbrush.

Chemo and other cancer treatments can cause hair loss by targeting rapidly growing cells—including hair follicles—which spurs hair loss. It can happen on the head and other areas of the body, depending on the treatment. Hair typically grows back after treatment finishes.

Some breast cancer patients choose to cut their hair in stages, while others prefer a single event. You can look into wigs, hats, and wraps if you prefer to keep your head covered, as well as products for eyebrows and eyelashes.

National Breast Cancer Foundation is here for you and your loved ones. Whether you need support, education, or help during treatment, we have a team dedicated to getting you the help you deserve.

The post When Hair Loss is About More than Just Hair: Jessica’s Story appeared first on National Breast Cancer Foundation.

One such woman is Natalie, who learned to find joy in the everyday beauty of her life—her daughter, her friends, and other supporters along the way. Here Natalie shares her story of resilience and renewal.

“On February 3, 2022, my life was forever changed with the call informing me that I had cancer. My 17-year-old daughter, Cori, was driving us home. I will never forget the intersection we were at. Since that day, I can’t drive through it without thinking of that exact moment.

Life moved very slowly that day. I promised my daughter I would do whatever it took to give me the best outcome, and when I was done, we were going to enjoy her senior year of high school together. Today, she’s getting ready to graduate.

Cori was the first person to know about my cancer diagnosis; when the battle is hard, she is the first one that enters my mind. I have to be here with her. Not for her, but with her. Cancer doesn’t just affect the person fighting—it affects all the people in and around that person.

I was diagnosed at age 39—before many insurance programs will even cover a mammogram—with triple negative breast cancer. I knew two people who had it before: One of them died, and the other is dealing with a recurrence.

To say I was scared is an understatement.

I found the lump in the shower. I wasn’t a regular self-exam gal, and being self-employed, my insurance was inadequate. It’s also that whole, “That couldn’t happen because I’m not old enough.” I decided to wait for changes – and changes happened fast! By the time I got my diagnosis, I was Stage 2 Grade 3. My oncologist said I was extremely lucky, and now I know I am very lucky.

“I stopped chasing the dopamine hits”

It’s hard for me to articulate the big picture I have learned through this cancer odyssey, but the best way to describe it is I stopped chasing the dopamine hits. I stopped attempting to create happiness with social media likes, buying new shoes, going on trips, or getting that funny t-shirt.

During chemo, I learned my real priorities right away. My real priorities lit up for me. I knew exactly who I wanted to be and what I wanted to do. It’s not the running shoes. It’s not the sunglasses that are going to bring me the most joy. My inner circle, my friends that are family, is everything to me. Everything. That’s what gives me joy, to have the friends, my daughter, my dogs.

Don’t get me wrong, buying new shoes and relaxing by the ocean are wonderful things, but if we spend our lives chasing the next dopamine hit, we never actually create happiness. It’s when you can find joy in the most mundane things that you know you are completely happy.

Navigating treatment with a powerful support system

The chemo treatment room is a room where you can sit in and learn so much. There is no wrong answer on how you feel throughout chemo.

Angry? That’s right!

Sad? Absolutely.

Reflective? Sure.

Every emotion is correct for both the patient and the caretaker.

Emotions are endless and hard. This is where an Oncology Nurse Navigator is so necessary! I had the absolute pleasure of connecting with my nurse navigator, Jennifer, during my first chemo treatment. The energy she brought was reassuring and genuine. I felt connected and completely comfortable discussing anything.

With this long journey, I didn’t feel human anymore and felt like I was being passed around on an assembly line. Jennifer reminded me that I am a human being who has emotions. I deserve to be respected, I deserve to have a voice, and I absolutely deserve to have my questions answered. I was encouraged to be my curious self. Information is powerful, and feeling like I was part of my treatment plan as opposed to a petri dish has gifted me more strength to move forward.

Jennifer was able to take my overactive brain and settle it. She was honest with what I was about to embark on, but was able to lead me into taking control of what I could. I have been described as a person who ‘dances to the beat of her own drum.’ Jennifer was an outstanding advocate for me owning what I could.

Throughout my treatment, Jennifer kept my mind and spirit fed. Without her encouragement and visits, I wouldn’t feel so optimistic about my future. She was crucial and will continue to be crucial for me to stand a little stronger. Every patient deserves the high quality of care Jennifer supplied. I hope all cancer warriors obtain the support I have through an Oncology Navigator Program.

The raw beauty of resilience

When I was going through my first regimen with Taxol, Thursday was the day I was low. My daughter would see me then, and then she would also see me come back. Saturday and Sunday, I was pretty on it. I think her seeing my strength also brought back her confidence. I involved her as much as she wanted to be. She always had an open invite to come with me to appointments, to meet my doctors and the care team. Sometimes she chose not to come, and that was okay.

When my hair began to fall out, Cori inspired me to take control. I put the call out to my favorite strong female friends. They each took turns, led by my fearless daughter, cutting my hair in weird and wacky ways before shaving it off. It wasn’t sad. I had no regrets. I look back on that memory, and I am filled with love and adoration. I think it’s about knowing yourself, too, and knowing what you love.

The raw beauty this odyssey has shown me is incredibly eye-opening. I have been calling this my rebirth because nothing will ever be the same again. I say this with optimism, and I am glad to have a new lease on life with my hope renewed. I have a new opportunity to be the person I was always meant to be, and I am grateful to realize this.”

National Breast Cancer Foundation is here for you and your loved ones. Whether you need support, education, or help during treatment, we have a team dedicated to getting you the help you deserve.

The post Rebirth & Renewal: Natalie’s Journey Through TNBC appeared first on National Breast Cancer Foundation.

Tamara was five months pregnant when she and Chris received the news she had cancer. For Chris, Tamara’s diagnosis “was a blur. My main focus was making sure my wife was ok and trying to figure out how I could be there for her. I didn’t know anyone who had gone through this before. It was a huge gut punch. I went into immediate husband mode: How can I support and help?” Because Tamara needed to focus on treatment, Chris was able to “handle everything else, non-treatment wise. I did whatever I could to aid her at the moment. And I still do to this day.”

Overnight, Chris went from being a new husband and expectant father to the caregiver of his wife with breast cancer and their unborn child.

After initial treatment, doctors determined that Tamara should be induced to give birth two months early so that she could proceed with additional chemo and surgery. After 56 hours of labor, their son Teague was born, weighing 5 pounds 1 ounce. Almost immediately, Tamara jumped back into treatment, with the new family traveling over four hours to Duke University every day for chemotherapy.

When asked what it was like to adjust to being a new father and a caregiver all at once, Chris shares: “How does anyone cope with all that we’ve been through without support? I personally owe a lot to God for him sending me such great in-laws, who have been super throughout this whole process. I believe I’m still coping to this day. I have a new definition of so many words now, such as cope, intimacy, love, covenant, reciprocity, longsuffering, and so many more.”

Chris’s lived experience as a caregiver to a partner with breast cancer has uniquely positioned him to encourage and advise other male caregivers. Chris shares that while it’s important to care for your partner with cancer, it’s also important for the caregiver to care for themselves: “Take time for yourself when you can, even if it’s five minutes. Read a devotion, do jumping jacks, go outside for some fresh air, or walk to the end of your neighborhood or community. Find something you like to do and try to do it every so often. Get a babysitter, find someone to clean the house, do the laundry, perhaps cook; if any of those things are possible, invest in them every so often to relieve the stress. At the end of the day, take it one moment at a time.”  

Chris likens their experience as a young married couple to boxing. “We did not have the same beginning as other married couples. We were hit with a left, a right, an uppercut, and a body shot before we even got through the first round of marriage. We were knocked down three times in the first round. You have to decide that you’re not going to quit.”

Expanding on his role as a caretaker, Chris shares, “You don’t want to take things for granted. But we’re human, so we can get caught up in emotions. I try to think: Let me be cool. Let me figure out how I can best serve. I don’t think caretakers get asked a lot about how they’re doing. I appreciate when I’m asked, ‘How are you doing?’ because you do endure a lot. It can be very challenging, but it can also be beautiful. You can still have a beautiful marriage even though you’re on a health journey. It’s going to take time and take some digging, but don’t give up.”

Through it all, Chris and Tamara have remained committed to caring for each other, physically and emotionally. Chris says the biggest benefit of this experience has been learning to “endure to keep the family together, which I also believe can help your spouse get healthy. I believe love is a great healer, and surrounding people with love helps them get through the most difficult moments of their lives.” 

Today, Tamara is still battling breast cancer—her third round in four years. When asked what is the best way someone can support a caregiver like himself, Chris says, “Give caregivers as much love and care as they are giving their spouse. Help them see their value and understand that they matter, too. Help them find a therapist, check on them, and give them hope. Every caregiver is going to be different, but every caregiver is human, and helping them feel significant is vital.” 

National Breast Cancer Foundation is here for you and your loved ones. Whether you need support, education, or help during treatment, we have a team dedicated to getting you the help you deserve.

Hear more about Chris and Tamara’s story in “One Bite at a Time: Tamara’s Journey with TNBC While Pregnant.”

The post Living in the “Beautiful Mess”: One Husband’s Caretaking Journey appeared first on National Breast Cancer Foundation.

When Tamara received the news that she had breast cancer, she initially felt confused and overwhelmed. Tamara remembers, “At that point, I still didn’t understand what was going on. I called Chris and he immediately got serious. That’s when I knew something was going on.” But as Tamara began to process the information, she realized, “There’s so much to chew on in this journey. We can take this one bite at a time. As I got more comfortable, I began to ask more questions. I wanted to be able to process what was happening, and I didn’t want to be overwhelmed.”

Following a biopsy—without full anesthesia because of the pregnancy—Tamara and Chris received the official diagnosis: It was triple negative breast cancer. While doctors couldn’t determine the stage at that time due to Tamara’s pregnancy, they knew they needed to begin treatment immediately.

For Chris, Tamara’s diagnosis “was a blur.” He says, “My main focus was making sure my wife was ok and trying to figure out how I could best be there for her. I didn’t know anyone who had gone through what we had gone through. I went into immediate husband mode: How can I support and help? It was a huge gut punch.” He added that he was incredibly thankful for their nurse navigator, who was “very compassionate and very helpful. If it wasn’t for her, I don’t know what we would have done.”

Eventually, doctors determined that Tamara should be induced two months early so that she could proceed with additional chemotherapy and surgery. After a full 56 hours of labor—and four different doctors—her son Teague was born weighing 5 pounds 1 ounce.

“The aftermath [of the birth] was the hardest. After three days of labor and epidurals, I jumped right back into treatment,” Tamara recalls. “Breastfeeding was off the table because I was going through chemo at the time and because of the cancer. It was really hard. I’d heard so many wonderful stories about breastfeeding being a great bonding experience. It was one more thing that was ripped away from me in this journey.”

After sharing her disappointment about not being able to breastfeed her son, Tamara was “flooded” with encouraging responses from other moms who also hadn’t been able to breastfeed but found other ways to bond with their children: “This gave me a lot of hope. Breastfeeding might be one way to bond, but it’s not the defining thing that you and your child are going to have. We found other ways to bond.”

Following chemotherapy, Tamara had breast surgery to remove the tumor. But due to the complex location of the tumor, the surgeons couldn’t remove it all. “We were really hoping that after all of this, we could have a sense of normalcy, so this was another crushing blow,” said Chris.

The duo spent the next six months commuting two hours—each way—to Duke University for treatment. After those six months, they were thrilled to receive a clear scan. But soon, one of Tamara’s oncologists had a gut feeling that she should be re-scanned. This second scan revealed another mass in the same location, leading to Tamara’s second breast cancer diagnosis.

With this news, Tamara opted for a mastectomy, which required the removal of three ribs to access the mass, followed by breast reconstruction. But shortly after her mastectomy, Tamara and Chris received more discouraging news. A new scan revealed yet another mass in the same area, and this time the cancer had spread into the lymph nodes.

Today, Tamara is still battling breast cancer—her third round in four years. The chemo she’s currently on is “working great, and the prayer is that it continues to work.”

Tamara and Chris encourage others facing a breast cancer diagnosis to advocate for themselves by seeking a second opinion if something doesn’t feel right, and they encourage other couples facing a breast diagnosis to seek counseling during their journey. Chris urges partners and caregivers going through this journey to exercise patience, understanding, and empathy: “I found myself digging deeper—deeper than I ever thought I would have to. In this journey, you realize how precious life is.”

Expanding on his role as a caretaker, Chris shares, “You don’t want to take things for granted. But we’re human, so we can get caught up in emotions. I try to think: Let me be cool. Let me figure out how I can best serve. I don’t think caretakers get asked a lot about how they’re doing. I appreciate when I’m asked, ‘How are you doing?’ because you do endure a lot. It can be very challenging, but it can also be beautiful. You can still have a beautiful marriage even though you’re on a health journey. It’s going to take time and take some digging, but don’t give up.”

National Breast Cancer Foundation is here for you and your loved ones. Whether you need support, education, or help during treatment, we have a team dedicated to getting you the help you deserve.

Hear more about Chris and Tamara’s story in “Living in the ‘Beautiful Mess’: One Husband’s Caretaking Journey.”

The post One Bite at a Time: Tamara’s Journey with TNBC While Pregnant appeared first on National Breast Cancer Foundation.

“I’ve had family and friends go through breast cancer, but at the age of 36, I never thought I would be diagnosed. I was healthy for the most part, lived a great lifestyle. I did everything they suggest to do to lower your risk. When I go to the doctor, I always get a great report. The only thing was, it started to hurt.” But Gigi still thought the lump was likely a benign cyst.

Gigi has asthma and went to urgent care to address some related symptoms when “something in my head just kept telling me, ‘You need to get that lump checked. It’s not right.’”

The urgent care doctor told her, “You need to go get that checked immediately, like today.” However, hospitals and clinics were only taking critical cases early in the pandemic, and Gigi didn’t have a primary care doctor since she had just relocated.

“At the time, they weren’t doing any mammograms, so I had to push for it.” She adds, “We have to remember that we know our body, and our bodies are not the same as someone else’s. If someone tells you that ‘you’re too young’ or ‘we don’t think this is it,’ you still have to say ‘I need to get this checked.’ You don’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

Despite being told the diagnostic mammogram clinic would get back to her when they began taking new appointments, Gigi continued to call and advocate for herself, even asking her urgent care doctor for follow-up support. When she eventually received a mammogram, the radiology doctor brushed her off: “It’s just a cyst,” he said. “We don’t need to do a biopsy. You’ll be fine.”

Gigi was both surprised and frustrated. She believes she didn’t receive the proper care or attention because she didn’t fit their typical patient profile, being young, healthy with a healthy lifestyle, and no family history of breast cancer. “I went home, and it didn’t sit right with me, it didn’t sit right with my husband.” So she called her only resource—the urgent care doctor, who strongly encouraged Gigi to get a second opinion.

In retrospect, Gigi realizes what a pivotal and life-changing decision it was to get a second opinion:

“My life matters. My health matters, and one person’s opinion is not the end-all-be-all. It’s ok to get a second or third opinion until you feel comfortable enough with the answer for your specific situation. I was thinking about myself, my health, my children, my future.”

At that point, “I still didn’t believe it was breast cancer, but I wanted someone to tell me it wasn’t breast cancer.” The doctor I saw for a second opinion, however, responded immediately with, “I don’t want to upset you, but I’m more than 90 percent sure this is going to come back as cancer.”

And it did: Stage 2 invasive ductal carcinoma with lymph node involvement.

Gigi hadn’t spoken to her brother, a doctor in Michigan, in years. Shortly after her diagnosis, she reached out to him: “It took cancer for me to reunite with my brother. I was scared. It was uncomfortable. It was like, ‘Okay, we haven’t talked. After all these years, I need to tell you that I have cancer, and I need your help. What do I do?’ Because I had no idea what to do.”

Her brother’s close friend was an oncologist who happened to practice just miles away from Gigi’s new residence, and he was quickly able to connect her with a local oncologist. While her husband was allowed to come to Gigi’s first day of chemo, after that, “because of the pandemic, family couldn’t come in with you. It was a very lonely journey.”

Gigi lost her own mother when she was young. Her mother was just 36 when she passed away, and Gigi didn’t even know she was sick until she died. Gigi knew she didn’t want her own children to have that same shocking and devastating experience. “I didn’t know if I was going to survive or not, and I wanted to make sure they understood what I was dealing with no matter the outcome. I think [the news of my cancer] broke everybody, but they knew I wasn’t the type of person to give up easily. We all came together and came up with a plan and got through it together,” she said. “My goal was to outlive my mother. I’m 38 years old now. I outlived my mother. And I plan on doing it even longer. I got to see my son graduate from high school. I take everything day by day. The little wins, the little moments.”

Initially, Gigi resisted a friend who encouraged her to join an NBCF support group. But eventually, to appease her friend, Gigi relented and ended up finding a community of “breast friends.” While she never wanted to be seen as “just a breast cancer survivor, it was a relief, because I didn’t feel alone. I didn’t feel ashamed or embarrassed. And I didn’t feel like my identity was just a breast cancer survivor. Being with those women and hearing their stories was really encouraging. Y’all have just been great. I feel like I’m with family.”

Today, above all, Gigi is grateful. “Gratitude for me is huge. I’m grateful that I’m here. I’m grateful that I don’t look like what I’ve been through. I recently graduated from college, and that was a huge accomplishment for me. God has a bigger plan,” she shared. “Without hope, I would be a lost cause. And without faith, I would be a lost cause. I want to be that light. I want people to know that the season they’re going through—it’s just a season.  And there is hope after breast cancer.”

Gigi was even able to find the bright side of losing her hair, which grew back curlier and healthier than before. She laughs, “Okay chemo, you didn’t just cure the cancer; you gave me good hair.”

National Breast Cancer Foundation is here for you and your loved ones. Whether you need support, education, or help during treatment, we have a team dedicated to getting you the help you deserve.

The post Breast Cancer at 36: Conquering Fear with Hope and Community appeared first on National Breast Cancer Foundation.

At 6:00 a.m., I drowsily opened my eyes in the dimly lit hospital room to see my husband, Neal, my mother, and my mother-in-law standing around my bed with worried expressions. Neal tenderly held my hand and with the kindest eyes I had ever seen said, “Honey, they found you have breast cancer.”

While having a hysterectomy the day before, my doctor had also done a procedure on my breast from a lump I detected two weeks previously. I had no concern about breast cancer since I was 34 years old, healthy, and unaware of the dangers of malignancy. That was the way it was in 1980. No internet to Google medical info and little knowledge of the disease except for what the doctor told you.

Fear Set In

My lack of concern suddenly changed. Fear overtook me. Will I live long enough to raise my three sons, ages 3, 10, and 13? Maybe my husband is going to walk away and abandon me in my darkest hour. Fear makes your thinking irrational and clouds reasonable logic.

The next day, they rolled me into the operating room for a mastectomy. The tested outcome of lumpectomies had not been around long enough to prove their effectiveness. I had always been pre-emptive about my healthcare, so a mastectomy seemed to be the best choice.

After the surgery, the doctor explained her findings. She said the lump I felt was benign, but nestled up against it was a small malignancy. I asked her if they would have found the malignant tumor if it had been 1/4^th of an inch or 1/8^th of an inch over, or even 1/16^th of an inch.

She said, “No, we weren’t looking for it there.”

I drew a slow, deep breath and softly spoke, “Then God drew you a roadmap.”

Silence filled the room, but I was sure I had received help beyond medical limitations.

The night after my mastectomy, my anxiety kept me awake. I remember my hospital room was pitch dark. My mind raced with fear and thoughts of what ifs that ended with a wobbly prayer. “God, I don’t understand what is going to happen to me, but I will continue to love and serve you. Please help me!”

Hope Arrived

With an unusual boldness, I made a spoken declaration. “Cancer, you lurk around in darkness, terrifying me. You have tried to kill me, but you are not my greatest enemy. I am yours! I will come after you with everything within me to conquer you, chase you down to the furthest parts of the earth, and shine a bright light on you to expose the fear you bring.”

Courage like that does not emerge out of the emotions that gripped me at that moment. That’s what God does. He replaces our fears with His conquering love.

When I left the hospital to resume my ordinary life, no further treatment was necessary since the tumor was small. My journey had begun, and I didn’t even know it.

After the Hospital Experience

For the next eleven years, my pathway took me down a trail of learning in the industries of professional speaking and writing. During that time, I actively volunteered at a local hospital, learning the ways of the hospital, and gaining favor with the doctors and nurses. Little did I know that my entire future career would involve working with doctors and the medical field.

NBCF-Light in Darkness

At the end of those eleven years, Neal and I created NBCF. Over these past 31 years, it has been a light to women worldwide shining in the dark regions of fear and giving hope and understanding through breast cancer education.

How Long Should I Continue Mammograms?

My regiment of annual mammograms has continued forty-two years, along with taking care of myself. I thought, If only I had one day without thinking of breast cancer a thousand times, I would be so happy.

Everything went well for a few years after my mastectomy until I started having a consistent twitching in my remaining breast. Since it didn’t go away, I set up a doctor’s appointment and mammogram.

As I walked down the hallway of our NBCF offices to a meeting, my cell phone rang. My doctor said in a somber voice, “Janelle, you may have to deal with breast cancer again.”

In disbelief and no time to gather my thoughts, I tried to concentrate, but my mind wouldn’t work. I don’t remember one word that was spoken at the meeting.

I discovered through the medical process that you don’t have to go through breast cancer alone. Before having a biopsy, my friends surrounded me in prayer and encouragement. No trace of breast cancer.

Over the years, I have told women to pay attention to any changes in their bodies. I never heard of twitching as a warning signal, but there was a change in my body that had to be attended to.

Improvements in Screening

Digital mammography was an exciting improvement during the past 42 years. I first learned of it when I visited the research lab at The University of Texas MD Anderson Cancer Center. NBCF supported new findings of breast cancer research as the medical team explained digital mammography and their discoveries from their newly gained knowledge. Additional advances in technology continue to give women hope for their future.

My Words to Women

NBCF provides funding for women who cannot afford them as we work through our network of medical facilities across the United States.

Please don’t make excuses for failing to get your mammogram. Yes, you do have the time! Schedule your mammogram the same way you manage every important thing in your life. It only takes a few minutes and gives you peace of mind. Even if there is an issue, your options for a healthy life are greater at an early stage.

Over time, I stopped thinking about breast cancer a thousand times a day. My thoughts turned away from me to the women we serve. Now I daily focus on how to reach more women and provide services for them all along their journey with breast cancer. I will always be thankful for the life I live and for God turning my sorrow into the joy of life.

The post 42 Mammograms Later appeared first on National Breast Cancer Foundation.

NBCF: How have you been impacted by breast cancer?

Suzy: When I was a little girl, my mom was my superhero. I thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world, and not only did she have a talent for fashion and design, but she was an incredible concert pianist. She competed at a national piano competition and came in second. We were all so proud of her!

Mom was one of those people who not only told me that anything was possible but showed me as well. When we moved to the United States from Puerto Rico, she had four small children, minimal cash in her purse, but the hope that she would give us a better life than she had as a child. She accomplished her goal. As a matter of fact, I watched Mom accomplish goal after goal as she wrote and published her first book and graduated with a doctorate degree. In my eyes, there was nothing Mom couldn’t do.

Our world changed when she was diagnosed with breast cancer. Even though Mom had a passionate heart and the strength of a tiger, I never thought her journey would take the course it took. When she was diagnosed, Mom chose to have a lumpectomy and radiation treatment on her affected breast. This was her first battle. Several years later, cancer came back on the other breast, and she chose the same treatment. 

With each diagnosis, we watched Mom suffer through the fear, the hair loss, and the side effects cancer and chemo have. There is such a helpless feeling when you watch someone you love suffer, but something in me kept believing she would fight this disease and win.

Ten years later, Mom began having pain in her neck and back. Her doctor suggested physical therapy, which only made it worse. Finally, the pain got so bad she saw her cancer doctor, who admitted her immediately to the hospital, where she was diagnosed with Stage 4 breast cancer. It had come back fast and fierce, and Mom had to undergo a seven-hour surgery with a team of five specialists to prevent her spine from snapping because it was so brittle from cancer. I will never forget the doctor talking to us after the surgery and realizing Mom was not going to be okay. I didn’t know what to expect and knew things would never be the same again.

Every time the phone would ring, I would panic and my heart would race. I remember praying and asking God to help me through this fear because I couldn’t do it alone. I called Mom every evening before dinner. It became our ritual. However, one night, I picked up the phone and an overwhelming feeling of fear and anxiety filled my soul. I have never experienced anything like it, and it terrified me. I heard God whisper, “Call her.” I stood looking out the window with the phone in one hand and my other hand holding my stomach and heard it again, “Call your mom.” I made a decision that would change my life. I set the phone down and told myself I would call later. Ten minutes later, I received a call from a family member telling me Mom had just died. She was talking on the phone and dropped it as she passed away. This moment changed my life in so many ways.

What feelings did you go through after losing your mom?

Suzy: The emotion of fear is so deep, and grief is such an overwhelming experience, especially when you combine grief with guilt. Nobody could have prepared me for the pain a person suffers when they grieve. For months the light would hurt my eyes, and sounds would pierce my ears. I fell into a deep depression and had to start seeing a grief counselor. 

Between my amazing husband, my counselor, and God, I slowly started to heal again. Except this time, I realized that God had a purpose for me: Turning my biggest mistake into my greatest achievement.

How has your journey shaped you and your goals now?

Suzy: Several years after Mom’s death, she came to me in several dreams. The first dream I had of her was so healing: We were standing on a stage peeking behind a large curtain; we were both laughing, and for the first time I remembered what it felt like to have fun with her again.

Then I had another dream where she was standing at the end of a stage holding a scepter and red velvet cape and waiting for me. She smiled and looked so happy. After I woke, I knew I was supposed to compete in pageants again, except this time it would be different. My journey would be to educate women about the importance of breast cancer awareness and early detection. Although I was terrified to share my story, I knew it was important to educate women as well, so I stepped out of my fear and stepped onto the pageant stage.

What does empowerment look like to you?

Suzy: Being crowned with two international pageant titles since that dream, I have made it my mission to empower women with the tools and knowledge about the importance of early detection and listening to your body. My faith turned my agony into empowerment and my hopelessness into my mission to help women across the world—not only to listen to their own voices but to become their own advocates.

Being part of the NBCF family allowed me to become a Community Ambassador so I can further expand my mission to educate and empower others.

What would you say to women who don’t feel empowered right now?

Suzy: Through my personal journey I have endured tragedy and triumph, but this is true for all of our journeys. The best advice I can give is two-fold:

First, take care of your body and be proactive. Get your annual mammograms and perform your monthly self-exams. You have to be your own greatest advocate throughout every moment of your life.

Secondly, you are not alone. NBCF was created to provide knowledge and tools for support so you can feel like you are part of a community that cares about you and will fight for you. Take advantage of that community. Learn from them, volunteer for them, and donate to them so they can continue to help women around the world.

I have learned there is no greater illusion than fear. It will isolate you, prevent you from taking responsibility for yourself, and it can immobilize you. I’ve been there. In moments of helplessness, panic, and guilt, I have learned that you are never alone. Whether you have a cancer diagnosis or are being impacted by cancer in some way, take care of yourself and treat yourself with the love and respect you deserve. 

To learn more about becoming an NBCF Community Ambassador to give help and hope to members of your community, click here.

National Breast Cancer Foundation is here for you and your loved ones. Whether you need support, education, or help during treatment, we have a team dedicated to getting you the help you deserve.

The post Peeking Behind the Curtain: Suzy’s Breast Cancer Story appeared first on National Breast Cancer Foundation.

Over 2 decades ago, Tracy felt a pea-sized lump in her breast. She was a new mom, living in a new city far from family and friends. A mammogram didn’t show anything, but a follow-up ultrasound revealed invasive ductal carcinoma.

Tracy’s treatment decisions revolved around her son, Trent. She determined that she couldn’t do radiation and be a full-time mom, so she opted for a mastectomy. Her mom, also a breast cancer survivor, traveled to support them and encouraged Tracy to leave the house when she could.

Three years later, Tracy began to experience back pain while pregnant with her daughter, Taylor. While the pain was severe, it was attributed to her pregnancy. But when the pain didn’t go away after delivery, Tracy visited an orthopedic surgeon.

An MRI revealed Tracy’s initial breast cancer had metastasized to her bones and spine, and later to her brain and liver. Tracy was diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer (MBC).

As a 21-year survivor—18 years with MBC—Tracy has learned much about herself and her disease throughout her journey. This is what Tracy wants you to know about living with MBC.

Breast cancer is everywhere and touches almost everyone.

Breast cancer statistics tell us that 1 in 8 women will be diagnosed with breast cancer in her lifetime. It is likely you know at least one person who has been impacted by breast cancer.

Tracy’s neighbor, Amy, was diagnosed with breast cancer shortly after the two became acquaintances. Tracy and Amy grew closer over walks through their neighborhood. Amy then learned she also had Stage 4 breast cancer. Tracy shared how Amy joined her community of friends: “I invited her to come play Mahjong. Oddly, we have 5 breast cancer survivors playing Mahjong with us—I don’t know how that all happened, because none of us knew each other before.”

Not all breast cancer survivors are the same, and we shouldn’t treat them the same.

Because of their terminal diagnosis, many MBC patients feel like they fall into a separate category of breast cancer patients. It is important for their unique and specific fears and uncertainties to be heard and understood. Tracy shares the need and desire to distinguish between types and stages of breast cancers, as well as between cancer patients themselves.

“One lady at Bible study was pregnant when she was diagnosed with Stage 4. And everyone kept trying to hook us up. Like, ‘Oh, you need to meet Linda. You need to meet Linda.’ I just wanted, for a little bit, to be the only person in the world who had cancer. I didn’t need to hear about other people at the time. I wasn’t ready.”

Eventually, Linda and Tracy met and became friends.

“Linda was the one who got me to go to a support group. I fell in love with the leader, LeeAnne. I really fell in love with the people. LeeAnne started noticing there were so many of us with Stage 4, and we all didn’t want to talk about certain things in front of the other ladies. So, she started a Stage 4 group, and that was so awesome. We were able to talk about wanting to plan our funerals, what happens if we die, and what happens to our kids. We were able to talk about our fears. There were 10 of us in that group. We educated each other, and we supported each other.”

We all deal with cancer in different ways, and that’s okay.

The ways we process and respond to trauma, such as a breast cancer diagnosis, are different, just as we are all different. Tracy shares how each member of her family was uniquely impacted and the different ways they stepped in to help.

“My husband did a lot of laundry while I was sick, because that was something he could control, and he could do. When I was first diagnosed and had my surgery, my mom came to help. My sister came to help. My husband’s sister came to help. But when it was Stage 4, it looked different with how [my husband] dealt with it.”

Tracy continued by sharing that she and her husband don’t remember certain experiences the same way. “He didn’t realize how sick I was. When my mom came to visit, he picked her up at the airport, and she asked, ‘How’s Tracy?’ He goes, ‘Oh, she’s good.’ Meanwhile, I had been in the bed and couldn’t stop vomiting for a few days. Mom called 9-1-1 that night, and I went to the emergency room and spent a week and a half in the hospital.”

“I didn’t fault [my husband] for not seeing [how sick I was]. I think he was exactly what I needed. I don’t know if I would have fought as hard if he had been doing everything for me. He was there in every way he could be there.”

Tracy also shares how her diagnosis affected her son, Trent, who was 3 at the time. “Trent had a lot of tantrums—he really struggled, because people kept coming in to take care of him. If I wasn’t home, he would fall on the floor and cry. He’d hold my hand when I was laying on the floor throwing up. He got the brunt of the cancer diagnosis.”

For Taylor, Tracy’s younger daughter, she shares: “Cancer had always been part of [Taylor’s] life. When I had the brain metastases and had brain surgery, Taylor and Trent came to visit me at the hospital. [Four-year-old] Taylor came running up to me, and she said, ‘Mommy, Mommy! Trent said they took your brain out!’ I said, ‘No, baby. They took the bad parts.’”

You have to have hope.

Hope ebbs and flows—it can look different day to day, month to month, and year to year. And for those with MBC, hope may look different from those with other stages of breast cancer.

Tracy shares how her definition of hope and success changed over time. After the initial MBC diagnosis, her hope was mainly to meet small-term goals. As time went on, Tracy transitioned from striving to meet short-term goals to putting her hope in seeing long-term goals met.

“At first, I said, ‘I want to see Trent go to kindergarten.’ Then once he went to kindergarten, I was like, ‘I want to see Trent graduate from high school.’ And now I want to be a grandmother. In the beginning, you didn’t even want to plan for next week. You don’t know if you’ll feel well enough to go on vacation or be able to even have lunch with someone. So, I tried to baby-step it out like that.”

Tracy also recalls a recent conversation with someone whose breast cancer had metastasized. “She started crying when I told her my story. I’ve been Stage 4 for 18 years. People think it’s a death sentence, but it isn’t necessarily a death sentence. You have to have hope.”

“And I struggle with saying ‘you have to have hope,’ because there were times when I didn’t have hope. I mean that you have to reach out to people. You have to find people in your life that give you hope—and gravitate to them.”

Just like other breast cancer types and stages, experience and overall prognosis with metastatic breast cancer (MBC)  are unique to each individual. To learn more about Stage 4 breast cancer, click here.

National Breast Cancer Foundation is here for you and your loved ones. Whether you need support, education, or help during treatment, we have a team dedicated to getting you the help you deserve.

The post Confessions of an 18-year Metastatic Breast Cancer Thriver appeared first on National Breast Cancer Foundation.

After receiving “the gift of desperation,” Michelle shares how she found the will to live, the strength to parent, and a newfound dedication to caring for herself and her family.

As mothers, we try to protect our kids from pain. We do it with good intentions and love, but I really feel like my kids physically seeing me in pain—losing my hair, going through the fight—is going to benefit them later on in life. Not only how they view me, but how they view themselves.

I have an 8-year-old son who has autism, and he has a very hard time at school. Every day is a battle to get him to even go to school. A lesson that I tried to teach him is: Sometimes in life, we have to do things we don’t want to do. We want to give up. It’s just not fun, but we have to do these things so that it benefits us in the end.

I told him, “You see me going to chemo every day. I don’t like the way chemo makes me feel. I don’t like the way it makes my body feel. I don’t like the way it makes my emotions feel. I hate chemo.”

I was very expressive.

I said, “I can’t taste food. My hair’s going away. I used to love my hair. I don’t like chemo at all, but you see me going back every time because chemo is going to help me get my cancer out.”

One day, I saw my son getting ready. He was really frustrated and said, “Mom, I really don’t like school, but I’m going to go. I’m going to do it because you’re doing chemo, and you don’t like chemo, but it’s helping you. I know that school is going to help me later on, so I’m going to go. I’m going to go to school.”

We constantly remind ourselves that the journey is hard, and we want to give up a lot of times, but the end result is so beautiful. And it’s so rewarding. We just have to go through this rough road.

That mindset has really helped me, and it’s helped my kids as well. Now that they’re going to see me go through surgery, that’s another bump we have to go through together. They’re going to see me weakened again—but as a family, it’s strengthened us because we have to ask each other for help.

It might feel like you’re breaking the unspoken-perfect-parenting rules, but I’d encourage every mom or dad facing cancer to be honest with their kids.

Be honest with your kids about what you’re feeling. Let them know “today I don’t have a lot of energy so I can only do this.” Don’t overwork yourself trying to do it all. I was trying to take my kid to gymnastics a day after getting chemo. It’s these unnecessary things that we put ourselves through when we can simply ask for help. We can ask somebody to take our kids to gymnastics for an hour.

We don’t have to do it by ourselves, and we don’t get a trophy for putting ourselves through hell by going through treatment and doing all these mom things at the same time. We’re allowed to rest.

Be honest about your feelings—about what you’re capable of doing. Be honest with yourself, too, first and foremost, about what you are able to do. And love on yourself.

I was not an iPad mom before my diagnosis, but if my kids are eating cereal and frozen food and watching TV for a day or two because I don’t have the energy, that’s okay. My kids are going to survive and they’re going to be okay.

My kids are my main motivation for all of this. They deserve to have their mom, and they deserve to have a mom who’s thriving.

Click here to read Michelle’s first post about using her “gift of desperation” to find strength and support during her breast cancer treatment.

National Breast Cancer Foundation is here for you and your loved ones. Whether you need support, education, or help during treatment, we have a team dedicated to getting you the help you deserve.

The post Be Honest About Your Cancer: How a Single Mom’s Example Changed Her Son appeared first on National Breast Cancer Foundation.

“The need to be perfect died…five extra pounds lives.”

In 2005 my husband looked at me and said, “If you don’t go to your doctor, I’m going to go and let her know what’s going on.”

For a year I had been having issues with bleeding from my rectal area. I talked myself into believing this mass was a hemorrhoid. I even had a quick visit with a specialist who told me that. You might be surprised at what we will convince ourselves is “normal” for our bodies. I was 37 years old, in great shape, no family history of cancer. There is no way it could be anything else, right?

Wrong.

After the exam, my family doctor said, “I can’t tell you what this is, but I can tell you what it isn’t—it isn’t a hemorrhoid.” She immediately ordered a colonoscopy, where the doctor confirmed it was a mass. Not only did I have a mass in my rectum area, but also a mass higher up in my colon. She had taken a biopsy of both.

We got the call while on vacation in the Tennessee mountains. My doctor said the biopsy she had taken from the mass below had come back negative for cancer. However, the other mass—the one I had no idea about—was Stage 1 cancer. She said, “Your husband most likely saved your life.”

Over a one-year period, I had four colonoscopies. Each time, my doctor would take out what she could and send it off. After colonoscopy number four, all was well and my scans were clear! No treatments needed, no meds needed—my oncologist is still amazed at how “uneventful” that cancer was for me physically. Emotionally, it was a different story.

A decade later…

“The need to have everything planned out died…bad hair days live.”

Fast forward 10 years and we would once again take the Tennessee mountain trip—this time to celebrate being 10 years cancer-free!

Two weeks after we returned, I was lying in bed, adjusting my pajamas under my arm, and felt what appeared to be a pea-size lump. My heart sank.

My gynecologist determined from her exam that it was indeed a lump. However, she said if she had to make an educated guess, she would say it didn’t behave like it was cancerous. She still wanted me to have additional screenings.

The mammogram showed nothing, though the radiologist could feel the lump. The ultrasound was a different story. The radiologist phoned my doctor and told her he suspected cancer.

The surgeon assured me he had been doing this for 40 years and, in his opinion, it didn’t behave like cancer. He still chose to biopsy. When I answered the phone and heard his voice on the other end, I thought, “When does the doctor himself call you?”

It was cancer. He proceeded to apologize to me and said in his 40-plus years, he would have bet his career that this was not cancer. He still tells me that at every check-up!

I had just celebrated my 10-year anniversary of being cancer-free, and I had just had genetic testing done with nothing found. How could this be? Cancer at 37 and 47. Scans and surgery were scheduled.

Thinking and believing

This was a tiny spot, I thought.

They will go in there and just remove it, I thought.

I’ll be done, I thought.

It will be just as easy as my colon cancer, I thought.

I had no idea there were different kinds of breast cancer. I had no idea that size wasn’t the only factor in determining treatment. I had no idea the biology of the cancer would determine my course of treatment. It was Stage 2, HER 2 positive/estrogen-driven, and it had spread to the lymph nodes: 13 months of chemo and 30 rounds of radiation.

“The stress, anxiety, and worry over petty things died…dust lives.”

Between the time of diagnosis and when treatment began, I did a lot of praying. My faith was my biggest inspiration. As a wife, mother, Mimi (grandma), and pastor’s wife, I wanted to remain as positive as I could for my circle.

That’s when I felt the words pour into my heart: How I experience cancer will be the way everyone around me experiences it.

Would I allow cancer to set the atmosphere or would I decide the atmosphere?

That changed my life. It wasn’t an easy 13 months. Chemo challenges the best of us. Bald, swollen eyes, mouth sores, joint pain, and neuropathy, yet I resolved that I would not pitch a tent in the valley, but keep going through.

There were many highlights during that time in my life:

1. My family. My oldest “grand joy,” Addi, would tell folks everywhere we went I was wearing a wig and under the wig I was bald.

Then she’d say, “Mimi, go ahead and take it off and show them.”

Her innocence and sheer joy opened up doors for me to strike up conversations with total strangers. These conversations often led to their stories, which made my heart smile and my eyes leak.

My second grand joy, Cassidy, was terrified of my baldness! She warmed up enough to get a picture with me.

My third grand joy, Aiden, found it uneventful. Regardless of what season I was in while on this journey, they always made my day better with their hugs and smiles. It was the best medicine of all!

2. My people. I was being treated at a facility with a cancer support fund and group, Journey of Hope.

I was able to take advantage of cancer survivor events, cancer transition classes, support groups, art classes, and color runs/walks.

All of these connected me with my people: survivors. During my first battle with cancer, there was no one to talk to or even ask me how I was doing emotionally.

Having this support was a blessing! I also became close to my nurse practitioner, Kim Hess, the founder of Journey of Hope.

3. My future. About two months after my last treatment, Kim asked me to join the Journey of Hope volunteer team.

This was an answer to prayer. I knew I wanted to give back. Today I am the community coordinator of Journey of Hope Cancer Support Fund at the SECU Comprehensive Cancer Center in New Bern, NC.

I am blessed to be able to give hope to cancer patients and their families through supplying chemo care bags, radiation bags, art classes, support groups, exercise classes, cancer survivor day events, and more.

You don’t choose the cancer community, it chooses you. This is a community I never wanted to be a part of, but once I found myself living there, I chose to embrace it.

“Walking around each day going through the motions died…dirty laundry lives.”

Don’t get me wrong, my life before cancer was great, but I realize how much time I spent with nonsense. Today, my days are spent with my husband, my children, my grand joys, my church, my farm, and my volunteer work.

When there is time, the necessities get done. If there isn’t time, there’s always tomorrow, right?

Wrong.

None of us know if we will see tomorrow and I sure don’t want to spend my last day folding laundry!

Next year I will be 7 years breast cancer-free and 17 years colon cancer-free. I would go through all this again if I knew it would lead me to where I am today. It is true that difficult roads often lead to beautiful destinations.

My 17^th and final treatment ended on February 7, 2017. This date was significant to me: 7 is God’s number for completion. This journey was complete and my healing was complete.

National Breast Cancer Foundation is here for you and your loved ones. Whether you need support, education, or help during treatment, we have a team dedicated to getting you the help you deserve.

The post How We Experience Cancer appeared first on National Breast Cancer Foundation.

When I first found out, it took my breath away because I have no family history of breast cancer. I remember feeling the lumps and not really paying attention because there were no other signs. When the second lump popped up and it felt weird, I had a mammogram and several biopsies and, sure enough, it was the words I didn’t want to hear: You have cancer.

When my doctor first told me that Black women are twice as likely to be diagnosed with TNBC, I was like “Wow!” It stuck because, as an African American, you don’t want to hear that. I have nieces and know they have to get checked early, not only because of me but because of their race. I was saddened by that, but it also makes me more aware to let others know to get a mammogram and stay aware of any signs. 

I also battle multiple sclerosis (MS), which I was diagnosed with back in 2015, but I have been in remission for four years and I’m thankful for that. I was thinking, “not something else to deal with,” but I’ve conquered multiple relapses where I couldn’t even walk. So I knew if I could conquer MS, I could face this head-on like a champ. It’s crazy to stay positive, but it got me through this journey—and so has keeping my faith up. 

Facing her biggest challenge: radiation

I went through four rounds of intense chemotherapy last year, had a right breast mastectomy, and I just finished radiation. My biggest challenge was getting through radiation. It was honestly harder than chemotherapy. I originally was to receive 30 treatments of radiation but once I found out I had residual cancer in my pectoral wall after surgery, they added more. The first couple of weeks were okay, but as the weeks went on, my skin started to burn. It was like a third-degree burn on my neck, chest, and underarm area. It was so horrible and painful.

I say it was the most challenging because it was physically, emotionally, and mentally challenging. I was going every day, Monday through Friday, for eight weeks. It mostly took a toll on me mentally, just knowing weekly I was getting burned and was getting worse and worse as the weeks went on. I would lay on that table and encourage myself and tell myself it was for a good cause.

They gave me Miaderm (a lotion for radiation relief) and hydrogel packs to help with the burning. I couldn’t use aloe vera but the Miaderm worked and Tylenol and Advil together helped the pain a lot. ABD (abdominal gauze pads) pads were my best friend.

I always looked in the mirror and told myself “Girl, you got this.”

After 35 rounds of intense and painful radiation, I rang the bell and that was the happiest day. I ran out of there knowing I accomplished something so hard and painful. I’m completely healed from radiation but every day, I look at my radiation area.

I lost my hair and was sick and my skin looked horrible, but I pushed through—even worked through it all. I have been blessed to have such a support system. From my family to work and my social media family, the support has been amazing.

Determination, strength, and a beautiful discovery

Of course, this has been a difficult journey. There were times when depression set in, and I couldn’t understand why I was going through this. My determination and strength pushed me daily. Even when I lost my hair, I was sad, but I eventually embraced it and even had a photoshoot. Though this has been quite a journey, I happily share my story to possibly help someone else and let them know they can get through this. 

I live by the motto I came up with: Beautiful with MS and Cancer. Despite the diseases, I am still beautiful. Not just on the outside, but on the inside. I don’t believe having an illness defines you. It makes you even more unique and beautiful, especially when you can share your story and inspire and encourage someone else. 

Find beauty in the smallest things, even if it’s just the fact that you got out of bed or you smiled that day despite everything you are facing. Look in the mirror and tell yourself, “I am beautiful.” It took me a while to see that, but I finally realized the beauty in myself.

A lot of times you have to encourage yourself when you don’t have anyone around to encourage you and that’s the best thing to have. You will have your bad days—and that’s only human—but don’t stay there. Know that there are brighter days ahead. I find beauty in inspiring people.

I still have a road ahead but I am confident that I will be holding on to my faith and trusting that all will work out. I have found beauty in life and in myself regardless of what I’m facing. I am #BeautifulWithMSAndCancer. I use that hashtag a lot because I am beautiful with or without the hair, going through chemotherapy, and whatever other challenges are ahead.

National Breast Cancer Foundation is here for you and your loved ones. Whether you need support, education, or help during treatment, we have a team dedicated to get you the help you deserve.

The post “I Am Still Beautiful:” Paris’s Journey with MS and Breast Cancer appeared first on National Breast Cancer Foundation.

2019 was off to a hot start.

I was finishing up my master’s in nursing to become a nurse practitioner and working part-time as an oncology nurse. My husband and I also had big hopes for starting a family soon.

Things escalated quickly after I felt a lump in my left breast. My fear quickly became a reality when the radiologist confirmed I had DCIS.

I remember receiving the call and not being able to comprehend the letters DCIS. “Ductal Carcinoma in Situ. Breast Cancer,” she repeated. Tears were streaming down my face. I was having trouble catching my breath and was shaking like a leaf. My husband and mom met me at home and held me while I cried.

At first, I wasn’t sure how I could go to work and care for my oncology patients. Finding separation between their journey and mine was so hard.

Then, literally three days later, the most beautiful thing happened: We found out we were expecting our first baby.

I could feel my whole energy shift. My initial feelings of shock, fear, anger, and grief shifted towards hope, determination, and refusal to let my diagnosis define me.

Fighting for a family of three

I was fighting for myself, my family, and, most importantly, my sweet baby.

At 21 weeks pregnant, our miracle baby helped us successfully get through a left mastectomy without complications. The post-op pain and irritation of my breast expander got easier over time. Knowing we would soon be a family of three kept me going—one foot in front of the other.

I feel lucky my DCIS was managed surgically. The hope was that this would be “one and done.” We chose mastectomy after many discussions with my surgical oncologist because there simply wasn’t evidence to support lumpectomy during pregnancy, waiting six months to start radiation post-partum, and then beginning hormonal therapy.

My situation was unique—so many women have unique situations, though—right? It’s rarely black and white. My hope is that women, including my patients, feel empowered to be a part of their treatment plan. Having conversations with our healthcare teams about what is important to us can help providers recommend the most individualized plan of care.

It wasn’t always pretty. There were many tears but setting realistic goals helped get me through. It was definitely survival mode. Work, work, school, study, exercise, doctors’ appointments, work, work, school, and so on. Baby kicks, family, the best friends in the entire world, neighbors, coworkers, and home-cooked meals were a recipe for success.

Our beautiful baby girl, Jane Katherine, arrived October 11, 2019. How fitting that she made her debut during Breast Cancer Awareness Month. She is the fiercest light we have ever known and is the sweetest, most loving, giggly, 2-year-old.

A mother’s love and a woman’s wisdom

I was able to breastfeed Jane from my right breast, which was very important to me. I also started my new career as a Medical Oncology Nurse Practitioner, but being a mom was—and is—my favorite title.

I had a decent amount of ongoing discomfort from my breast expander and was thankful to see this go when it was time for breast reconstruction.

My initial surveillance imaging was all clear, showing only benign breast changes. “Scanxiety” is no joke. I think we all literally hold our breath until we get those imaging results. The fear of recurrence is something I think most cancer survivors deal with and likely suppress quite often.

Fast forward to this past summer. Life was good! My work-life balance was a beautiful thing. Jane was a blast. Ethan and I were expecting our second little love.

As my body changed with pregnancy, so did my left breast and scar tissue. I started questioning myself: “Is this always how my scar tissue felt? Is this a new lump? No way! Don’t be crazy.” But I hadn’t had my routine surveillance imaging because I was pregnant. Mammograms and MRIs are not typically recommended during pregnancy from a risk-benefit standpoint, but exceptions can be made.

Return of “my least favorite letters in the alphabet”

I remember laying there, super pregnant and uncomfortable, with the ultrasound probe searching for any suspicious findings in my breasts. Nothing showed up but my radiologist said, “Just to be safe, let’s get a mammogram.” My belly was heavily protected with lead shields and off I went.

Through divine intervention and four biopsies, stubborn little calcifications were found: three specimens consistent with lactation changes, and one with my least favorite letters in the alphabet, DCIS.

The cancer was found beneath my remaining nipple where a small amount of breast tissue remained post-mastectomy. Words simply cannot express how thankful I am for my doctor’s persistence, vigilance, and patience. She made me feel comfortable and hopeful when it seemed impossible.

Again, we found ourselves in survival mode. Our priority was to have a healthy baby. Ellen Anne was born November 5, 2021. She is our little angel!

When Ellen was four weeks old, I had a lumpectomy and am thankfully cancer-free again.

Juggling many doctor’s appointments with a newborn was super stressful. One thing that made life a lot easier was a hands-free breast pump. Being able to pump while driving or in doctors’ offices sitting in waiting rooms was a game-changer.

Finding strength in the present and hope for the future

One of the hardest things to cope with regarding my recurrence was the notion that we may not be able to have more kids.

I feel incredibly lucky to have a wonderful relationship with my medical oncologist, who has provided the guidance we needed. Not only is she a colleague, but she’s a brilliant physician who advocates for each of her patients. She helped develop an individualized plan of care for my family and me.

I am thankful to have breastfed Ellen for a few months before starting Tamoxifen with the goal to prevent a new breast cancer in my remaining breast. My doctor has given us hope that we can continue to have children, if we choose.

This experience has helped me find clarity in who I am as a young woman:

• Strength, I didn’t know I had
• Inner peace, I have strived to find through years of anxiety
• Joy, in the day-to-day organized chaos we call motherhood
• Thankfulness, for my loving husband, family, and friends
• Appreciation, for each and every member of my medical team. Healthcare is an art. It should embody compassion, empathy, brilliance, patience, tolerance, bravery, and resilience.

I hope I can provide my patients with the same care I have been shown over the past three years. This journey has taught me many invaluable life lessons. I have learned to stay confident, listen to my body, lean on my biggest supporters, and never, ever give up hope.

My girls and my husband Ethan have been my light through some dark and scary days. Terrifying, in fact. But I’m here, cancer-free, living with grace and a fierceness I didn’t know I had.

The post Baby Steps: Diagnosed with DCIS During Two Pregnancies appeared first on National Breast Cancer Foundation.

A single mom to two young children, Michelle was initially diagnosed with Stage 2 breast cancer in the spring of 2021, following a move to a new city for school. However, follow-up scans showed significant progression of cancer in her lymph nodes, so it was reclassified as Stage 3. Shortly after beginning chemo, her partner left, and then life took an even harder turn.

After the most challenging year of her life, Michelle is on a journey of self-awareness, self-care, and self-love as she strives for community and healing.

Feeling Lost and Isolated in a New World

When I was diagnosed, I stuck out like a sore thumb—a lot of older women were there, and I’m a young mom and have two small children. I felt really isolated. I have no history of breast cancer or any type of cancer in my family, so I was introduced to cancer by getting it. I was left to deal with it on my own and figure it out. I had no idea how to navigate any of this—especially emotionally.

I had a partner at the time, and they were very, very supportive at first. Then that partner disappeared. I was in a new city—I didn’t know anyone. The [initial] chemo was too strong, and it was taking a toll on my body, so we stopped that chemo, and then my partner left. Two weeks later my brother committed suicide.

I dealt with mental health issues before my diagnosis, and the depression took a big hit on me after my brother passed. I said, “I’m not going to do chemo anymore.” I refused. “I’d rather the cancer take my body than chemo.” My will to live went down because my brother was gone, and he was the closest sibling I had. I was mourning, and I just didn’t want to do chemo. I was exhausted.

When Everything Changed

But then I looked at my kids, and then I saw my kids looking at me and seeing me fight. I prayed and prayed and prayed to God to give me a sign—something to let me know, anything. Anything, you know? And I was given the gift of desperation.

Willingness is something I did not have before my diagnosis because I was a control freak. I controlled every aspect of my life. I controlled my work. I controlled my schooling. I was a controlling parent. I controlled the way people viewed me, and only let people know specific things about me. When I was given this diagnosis, I had to become willing and turn my will and my life over to a higher power.

I mustered up the will to continue treatment. I took a two-month break from chemo, and when I went back, the symptoms were minimal. They were very tolerable. I learned that just because one treatment is a certain way does not mean that [the next] treatment is going to be the exact same way.

I learned to ask for help, and I learned that I don’t have to prove anything by doing this all by myself.

Finding “Partners in Healing”

I found National Breast Cancer Foundation, thankfully, and I got into the support group, which has been amazing. I call them my partners in healing. I was really, really scared at first. At the beginning of my journey, I had nobody to kind of tell me “It’s going to be okay. You can do this; you can fight this.”

Being around people with different types of cancers has been really helpful. You get a lot of encouragement from your family, and you get a lot of support from everyone around you. But when it’s from somebody going through the exact same thing you’re going through—and maybe even worse sometimes, and you’re seeing them not only go through it but thrive through it—it’s been amazing.

I was telling my friend and group member Courtney how I was going through chemo and I was crying about my brother. I was apologizing, “I’m sorry. I know this is a lot. I’m going through a lot, and I know it’s a lot for you to handle.”

She said, “Don’t even tell me that. I can handle it. Give me some of that weight. I can carry that for you.”

Through these groups, you relieve yourself of some of that weight. Then you have space to listen to other people going through their treatment. It’s definitely a give-and-take.

One of my friends told me, “I’m going to give you so much support, and your life is going to change from all this, and you’re going to come out of this stronger and more of a warrior than ever.” Reaching out and connecting is probably the best thing you could ever do for yourself—and your well-being, your spirituality, your soul.

Community and Self-Love

I’m living every single day of my life not like I’m going to die—I’m thriving and I’m surrounding myself with love.

No matter how many days, whether I have 10 days or whether I have a billion days left, I want to sit in this mindset, and I want to share my experience, my strength, and my hope with other people who have been down in that hole and have been wanting to give up and thinking about stopping treatment.

Whenever I am willing to give other people the opportunity to help, it opens up a lot of opportunities for love and strength and hope and courage. The turning point was when I started seeing other people in these groups and these survivors, and I started thinking, “Okay, I’m kind of a badass, too, because I’m doing this.” I started seeing myself the way I saw these other people. It brought a lot of self-esteem, motivation, and courage to me because I didn’t feel alone. I felt educated.

Moving Forward With a Grateful Heart

I’m preparing for surgery and I’m going to write a letter to my breasts to thank them for all that they’ve done. As women, a lot of identity revolves around our bodies and especially our breasts. Breasts gave my kids life, and I appreciate them. I’m sad, mourning my old body, but I’m trying to be open to welcoming this new body, this new body that is also going to take me on a lot of adventures in the future. I’m scared. I’m nervous. I’m hopeful. I’m confident. I know if I have these women by my side, I won’t feel alone, and I know just how to navigate this.

National Breast Cancer Foundation is here for you and your loved ones. Whether you need support, education, or help during treatment, we have a team dedicated to get you the help you deserve.

The post Michelle’s Gift of Desperation During Stage 3 Breast Cancer appeared first on National Breast Cancer Foundation.

Today, I am a special education teacher, a survivor, a mother, a daughter, a sister, and a fighter.

Nearly two decades ago, I was preparing for my senior year of college and a breast reduction that I had wanted for years. I felt on top of the world.

A week after the procedure, it all came to a halt.

I was about to head out for the night when my parents told me that they needed to speak with me. They had received a call from my doctor hours earlier. After they sat and cried together in the parking lot of a Short Hills deli, they knew what lie ahead – returning home to tell their middle daughter the doctors found Angiosarcoma of the left breast during a routine biopsy. (Angiosarcoma is a rare cancer that develops in the inner lining of blood and lymph vessels.)

Soon afterward, our family of five sat on my parent’s bed, so we could share the news with my sisters. They said, “Rachel has cancer.”

The Big C. Twenty-year-old girls didn’t get cancer—I was not supposed to get cancer. 

The next two weeks went by with lots of computer searches, phone calls, late nights, and tons of uncertainties.

We finally met with the phenomenal oncology team at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center. After numerous scans and blood work, we sat down with my oncologist, Dr. Cody. He shared that my odds of getting this form of cancer were 1 in 100 million and that his patients were typically women in their late 40s through 60s.

He was direct and to the point and told me my only option was a mastectomy since radiation and chemotherapy would exacerbate the cancer. There I was, 20 years old, making one of the toughest decisions of my life—but in reality, I did not have a choice at all. 

The week leading up to my surgery, I made sure I looked my best. That way, when I looked my worst after surgery, I could still dig deep to feel my best.

On June 23^rd at 5:30 a.m., we headed to prepare for 15 hours of surgery and the next chapter in my story.

I remember a few things distinctly — how hard it was to say goodbye to my dog, Zoey, handing my sister my beloved Chapstick with important post-surgery application instructions, and half-jokingly asking the doctor for a tummy tuck to tack onto my surgery. (Dark humor still gets us through tough times!)

The doctors, nurses, and staff were miracle workers. They took excellent care of me and always knew what to say and when to say it. Dr. Cody still remembers each one of my family members—my “entourage,” as he affectionately called them. 

On the outside, everything looks okay. But every day I wake and look in the mirror with a reminder: My scars cover my stomach and chest. I cannot escape them.

I am reminded every day that life can change in an instant. I am reminded to keep moving, to look forward, to make the best of every situation.

I’ve learned that it’s okay to cry—but once you’re done, pick yourself up and look around. You’re not alone. Give yourself some grace and time. What you are going through is hard. Not everyone will understand, but people want to be there for you—so let them. The community around you is full of people willing to help.

Today, 17 years later, I have two beautiful children, a very understanding husband, and a forgiving and strong family that continues to fight and stand by my side daily. This is my story. The one I live and breathe every morning and night. 

National Breast Cancer Foundation is here for you and your loved ones. Whether you need support, education, or help during treatment, we have a team dedicated to get you the help you deserve.

The post Diagnosed with Angiosarcoma at 20: Rachel’s Story appeared first on National Breast Cancer Foundation.

Through his grieving, Mike felt called to share her story and let her “name be a blessing” to others. On behalf of the entire NBCF family, we thank Mike for his courage and heart in sharing Jenn’s story to reach more women.

I called her “baby Jenn” from the first day. Jennifer was adopted and she joined our family at a very young age. She was my second child and was a firecracker — a dynamo from day one.

She not only was a great kid growing up, but she ended up being a great mother and wife, and an incredible producer in the real estate business.

Jennifer loved life and she was always into health, physical fitness, eating right, and doing all the right things. This tragedy has hit even more when you delve into that.

Jennifer had a routine doctor’s appointment and the doctor said, “I think you need to be checked out. I see something that is a concern to me.” So Jennifer called me, and I dropped everything and met her at a clinic in Plano where she had all the mammograms and tests.

The doctor called Jennifer and I into the examining room. She was only 24 years old, and the doctor said, “Jennifer, you have breast cancer. You have Stage 3 breast cancer.” She didn’t even blink an eye.

I was beyond shell-shocked, did not know what to do. I’m a pretty type-A person, but we walked out of that doctor’s office, and I had no idea what to do. I started calling friends and asking, “Who’s the best surgeon in the city of Dallas?” Categorically, all said Dr. Grant.

I picked up the phone in my car and called Dr. Grant. I have no idea what I said or how I said it, but Dr. Grant answered — he didn’t know if I could pay the bill, didn’t know who I was from Adam, and said, “I will see you at my office whenever you get here.”

We got there about seven o’clock at night. He saw Jennifer, diagnosed her, and our next step was a mastectomy.

Jennifer was told by many doctors that there’s no way in medical science that she could have a child. We talked about freezing eggs, but it was too late. Magically, she got pregnant. She had this beautiful, incredible daughter that she named Harper who is as vibrant as any child can be.

Jennifer was 11-1/2 years cancer-free.

Our family believes in early detection. We believe in mammograms and the importance of women’s health. She did these things religiously for 11-1/2 years, had no problem whatsoever.

In about year 12, she found a little tiny nodule on her neck and it bothered her for a while. I kept pleading with her, “Go to the doctor. Go to the doctor.”

She finally went back to Dr. Grant, and he did a biopsy. When he came back with results, there were about four of us in the room and he said, “You have triple-negative terminal cancer.”

That was probably one of the toughest days in my life. To walk away from that news.

Again, Jennifer didn’t cry. She didn’t say a thing. I mean, she just walked away.

All the people that were there just about fell on the ground in tears, but her mantra was, “I’m going to fight it. I’m going to beat it. It’s not going to define me. It’s not going to stop me.” Every day of her life subsequently, she lived that way.

After going through seven or eight trials & radiations, the oncologist said, “There’s nothing else we can do.” Basically, go home and get your life in order.

From that point on, we took a family vacation to Turks and Caicos. The whole family was there. Jennifer participated in just about every single function.

Two and a half weeks after we left Turks and Caicos, she passed away.

My hopes for the future? That someday, in my life, I can not be so torn up.

I mean, I’m dead inside. I’m a dead man walking inside. I’m sure time will heal that. I hope.

In the Jewish religion, we talk about “your name be a blessing,” and I hope people will bless her name and remember her positively.

Her husband John has been a wonderful, loving, incredible husband. Harper has thousands of pictures of her & her Mom together. I hope Harper will remember her. I know the family will do our part to make sure she’s remembered.

The day Jennifer passed away, we got a package in the mail from a friend. They were these incredible chimes with a beautiful picture of Jennifer. We hung them in front of our swimming pool.  Every time Harper swims a lap, she looks up and says, “That’s my mommy.” Things like that, hopefully, will get us through all this.

My entire life I have supported organizations that give back and the National Breast Cancer Foundation is an organization that does so much good. My hope is that this organization will flourish.

Breast cancer is horrible and it needs to be taken extraordinarily seriously. If you save one life, if you save one woman or one man, it makes everything worthwhile.

I can’t begin to express my sadness and unimaginable pain of losing my Jennifer. Jenn fought this terrible cancer with every single breath in her tiny body. We have been through hell fighting this disease. My intention is to try and help other women and men coming from the heart of a father who lost so much because of breast cancer.

Someday there will be a cure. A total cure. Then we’ll be on to something else.

The NBCF team was fortunate to meet Jennifer 6 years ago when she shared her powerful testimony about early detection. We witnessed her love for family and community, dedication to advocacy, and heart for giving back.

To further her advocacy work, we’ve set up a special fundraiser in Jennifer’s honor. All donations will support NBCF’s programs centered around education, early detection, and support for women facing all stages of breast cancer. If you’d like to donate, click here. May her name be a blessing. 

National Breast Cancer Foundation is here for you and your loved ones. Whether you need support, education, or help during treatment, we have a team dedicated to get you the help you deserve.

The post Losing My 37-Year-Old Daughter to Breast Cancer: Why Early Detection Matters appeared first on National Breast Cancer Foundation.

In 2019, I went for my routine mammogram and got the dreaded call from the facility that I would need to come in for additional imaging and a biopsy. The next thing I knew, I was in the surgeon’s office, learning that I needed to have a lumpectomy. The surgery went smoothly—when I visited the oncologist a couple of weeks later, she said, “I have good news and I have bad news.”

The good news: small tumor, no margins. The bad news: a high Oncotype score of 32, and I was going to need chemotherapy.

By that point, I had done my research through National Breast Cancer Foundation’s website and other medical websites. I realized that if they said chemotherapy, then they meant it.

I was told I would need four rounds of chemotherapy spaced three weeks apart—and they were going to hit me with the “big stuff.” My initial thought was, “Oh my gosh, I’m going to lose all my hair.” That was the first topic I asked about. The surgeon laughed and said, “Absolutely. That’s everybody’s first question.” I went and shaved my hair at a place I had never been before. She cried. I cried. Because I think that’s everybody’s biggest fear with losing their hair: that you’ll look like a cancer patient and you’re going to feel like a cancer patient.

The next morning, I went in, put my arm out, and they started chemotherapy.

Was it tough? Yes.

Was it scary? Absolutely.

Did it hurt? Not really.

When you start thinking positively and you realize that everybody’s there to help you—to make sure that you live a long life, and you get to see your kids grow—then you do what has to be done in order to thrive and survive. The chemotherapy was difficult, absolutely, but I never dreaded going.

When you think of the bigger picture, going through chemo was never a tough decision to make. And it was not something I ever regretted.

I’m here to tell you that chemo is tough, but the one constant I found was support. In others, but especially in myself. Every person was nicer than the next and people took time to answer my questions. People held my hand. People were there to support me. And I grew as well.

Here I am, two years later, ready to rock and roll, post-COVID, post-cancer, thinking I can take on the world. I can take on anything. I always want to repeat what they said to me at my facility, which was: “I’m here for you.”

If anybody ever has a question, I’m here for you. I’m a good listener. I offer good advice. I tell good jokes sometimes. And I’m living proof that you can not only survive—you can also thrive.

To find more resources on breast cancer and breast cancer support groups, click here. If you’re starting chemotherapy, check out NBCF’s Chemo Messages series.

National Breast Cancer Foundation is here for you and your loved ones. Whether you need support, education, or help during treatment, we have a team dedicated to get you the help you deserve.

The post Why I Never Dreaded Chemo appeared first on National Breast Cancer Foundation.

My grandfather had breast cancer. And his father had it, too. They had identical symptoms — an inverted nipple which caused alarm to seek care. My grandfather had a bi-lateral mastectomy followed by five years of tamoxifen to rid his body of cancer. 

After facing breast cancer, he was diagnosed with the BRCA2 gene mutation and was told it may be genetic.

When I learned this, I was very interested in finding out what I could do to avoid going through what he experienced. My husband and I had a 1- and 3-year-old at the time, and I didn’t want to live through cancer. I wanted to experience a different path.

I was blessed that my father was willing to be tested for the BRCA mutations. Since my grandmother, having beaten breast cancer, died when he was 14 from cancer, he did the comprehensive test to see if he was positive for either BRCA 1 or 2. 

He was positive for BRCA2 alone. I was now mentally ready to test. I wanted to know what more I needed to do to prevent this disease. 

The test

I am the oldest of five kids in my family and four of us have tested for BRCA, with two positive and two negative. I can’t emphasize enough how much of a personal choice it is to get tested.

Getting tested is a huge decision because it impacts your entire life. That can feel scary. I try to remind myself: Fear doesn’t serve you, but information and love do. Love yourself enough to do what feels best, and you will be on solid ground no matter what. 

With that mindset and the support of my family, I got tested.

I tested positive for the BRCA2 mutation. Then I had to make a choice: prophylactic surgery or mass surveillance.

I wasn’t interested in surveillance, which meant alternating cat scans and MRIs every six months. I didn’t like the idea of waiting for cancer to be found. So, when the call came with my results, I was prepared with a decision: surgery. My husband and I wanted to continue to build a happy and healthy life, not one with fear of cancer. This was the first step in creating that life. 

Building a happy & healthy life

My surgery included a double mastectomy, hysterectomy, and the beginning stages of breast reconstruction. I remember the first week or two out of surgery being uncomfortable, but not unbearable. The main problem was that I felt pretty good, so it was easy for me to overdo things. That was the case after the drains came out. 

Something I didn’t anticipate was how uncomfortable it would be to expand my chest cavity for breast reconstruction. I stopped after two “fills” because I just couldn’t take it any longer.

Emotionally, I held up pretty well. I heard a lot of “you are so brave,” and I kept thinking “compared to what?” There are so many people who have to endure so much more heartache, loss, and pain than I ever did. I felt like I got off kind of easy! I made a choice for my wellbeing, and not because I was forced into it by this awful disease. I got to make a choice for better health, not to save my life. 

Conquering breast cancer & risk factors

I feel blessed that I was able to make proactive choices about my future, all thanks to my dad’s decision to get tested. He saw his father beat breast cancer, skin cancer, and endure the loss of his wife to cancer. When my grandfather passed in 2019, I was flooded with memories and thankfulness for all that he gave our family.

There is a stigma for some men about breast cancer or being too tough to see a doctor. The idea that a man can have breast cancer is not as publicly discussed, but it happens. 

Social media seems to have helped bond some of the men who do have to go through this together, whereas when my grandfather went through it, I’m not sure he knew one other man going through the same thing.

The advice I’d share with people in a similar situation is inspired by the strongest men I know: Don’t forget who you are. You are not this diagnosis or disease. You have the ability to help your body and mind do wonderful things.

National Breast Cancer Foundation is here for you and your loved ones. Whether you need support, education, or help during treatment, we have a team dedicated to get you the help you deserve.

The post I Had A Preventative Mastectomy — Here’s Why appeared first on National Breast Cancer Foundation.

My mom, Elizabeth, is the first person I call when something of significance happens, good or bad. She’s the first person I go to for advice and is my most trusted confidant. It’s been a joy to transition from a mother-daughter relationship to a true friendship with her.

She was initially diagnosed with breast cancer in 2007 at age 47. I remember literally falling to my knees and not being able to catch my breath when she told me.

At this point, our family was already coping with the heavy loss of my dad after unexpectedly passing two years earlier. It felt doubly scary to be facing my mom’s diagnosis. Her original breast cancer, ductal invasive carcinoma with lymph node metastasis, was already Stage 3b and she was given a 30% chance of survival. I felt angry at the timing and what felt like complete unfairness in what was happening.

While the initial cancer was advanced, my mom’s course of treatment followed a predictable path for many advanced breast cancer patients: chemotherapy, then surgery (a unilateral mastectomy), followed by more chemotherapy, and finally radiation. She was in active treatment for 13 months. Despite hair loss, nausea, weakness, and fatigue, my mom continued to work as a nurse during most of her treatment. She also remarried a supportive and loving man and remained active in the lives of me and my two brothers.

After 13 months of treatment, my mom completed her last radiation in November 2008.

She and her husband celebrated by ringing the bell at the facility, and looked forward to a period of rest, relaxation, and rebuilding. Recurrence was on our minds because her cancer had reached such an advanced stage by the time she was diagnosed, but once my mom passed first the 5-year anniversary and then the 10-year mark in remission, our fears and worries lessened.

I remember that life was good and filled with sweet milestones after my mom’s recovery. So many important family events and changes took place, including my wedding and the birth of my two children as well as visits, holidays, and lots of quality family time. My mom reveled in watching her grandkids grow. We just lived life to the fullest, from the mundane to the spectacular.

My mom had been experiencing lower back pain in the summer of 2019. She visited a chiropractor, physical therapist, and a few doctors before one of them checked her cancer markers.

We were all incredibly shocked when she was diagnosed again in 2019, this time with metastatic breast cancer with metastasis to her bones, a full 12 years after her initial breast cancer diagnosis.

We were confused and so deeply sad, knowing that the metastatic diagnosis is a terminal one. The familiar feelings of fear, anger, and a sense of unfairness came flooding back, with even more at stake. I remember feeling absolutely panicked and gutted. I hit my knees, out of breath…again.

My mom refers to metastatic breast cancer as a game-changer, but she tries to remain positive and live in the moment—despite the severity and unpleasantness of what she faces. She wakes up every morning thanking God for another day and literally counts her blessings.

I have learned that metastatic breast cancer can feel very isolating, especially during our current period of time. I encourage family members to stay connected as much as they safely can, reach out often, and invite their loved one to express themselves without fear of judgement or disapproval.

Metastatic breast cancer is terrible. Period. I think it’s important not to overly sugarcoat conversations and interactions with my mom, and by extension, other metastatic patients.  These women deserve to be completely seen and heard, including the dark and the painful and uncomfortable feelings that come with a terminal diagnosis. But also, it is so important to celebrate the good moments, the small victories, and the life that is happening in the midst of this diagnosis.

My mom’s advice is: Live one day at a time, don’t let your mind run away with fear. Enjoy your life. Listen to your doctor, follow their orders. And get your mammogram!

If I was speaking to my mom right now, I would tell her that I love her and am so proud of her. I am amazed by her bravery and how resolutely she has faced this diagnosis—full of grace, faith, and wisdom. She is my hero.

National Breast Cancer Foundation is here for you and your loved ones. We sponsor Metastatic Breast Cancer Retreats to provide metastatic patients with renewed hope, increased knowledge, end-of-life preparations, and the reminder that they are not alone. Whether you need support, education, or help during treatment, we have a team dedicated to getting you the help you deserve.

The post Falling to My Knees: My Mom’s Story with Metastatic Breast Cancer appeared first on National Breast Cancer Foundation.

Cancer is a horrible and terrifying disease. Yet millions of people have beaten the odds and beat cancer. In this interview series, we are talking to cancer survivors to share their stories, in order to offer hope and provide strength to people who are being impacted by cancer today. As a part of this interview series, I had the pleasure of interviewing Janelle Hail.

Janelle is a forty-one-year breast cancer survivor, CEO and Chairman of the Board of National Breast Cancer Foundation (NBCF). Janelle and her late husband Neal founded NBCF in 1991 with a mission to help women now and inspire hope to those affected by breast cancer through early detection, education, and support services. The NBCF worldwide headquarters is in Frisco, Texas, where they offer medical services to needy women through their hospital network across the United States and support services for breast cancer patients throughout the United States and worldwide.

Thank you so much for joining us in this interview series! We really appreciate the courage it takes to publicly share your story. Before we start, our readers would love to “get to know you” a bit better. Can you tell us a bit about your background and your childhood backstory?

I grew up in Lubbock, Texas, with my parents and a brother who is five years older. Neal and I met while I was attending Texas Tech University as a freshman. After four years in the Navy, Neal had transferred in his senior year of college from Texas Christian University to Texas Tech University. We fell in love and married within the year when he was 26 and I was 19. We had 52 years of marriage until Neal passed away in 2018.

Can you please give us your favorite “Life Lesson Quote”? Can you share how that was relevant to you in your life?

One of my favorite life lesson quotes is, “Our pathways often twist through stormy landscapes; but when we look back, we’ll see a thousand miles of miracles and answered prayers.” –David Jeremiah

Many times, when you are in the middle of the storms of life, all you can see are the billowing clouds and rugged landscape you must climb over. As I have learned to trust God with my life, I can see that He was there all the time helping me move forward and bringing about beauty in my life.

Let’s now shift to the main part of our discussion about surviving cancer. Do you feel comfortable sharing with us the story surrounding how you found out that you had cancer?

I encountered breast cancer when I was 34 years old and married with three sons, ages 3, 10, and 13. One night as I was getting ready for bed, I remembered learning about breast healthcare from my health class in junior high school. I was surprised to discover a lump in my breast that night, as I had always taken care of my health, ate well, and exercised.

At that point in my life things were wonderful. We were building our dream home in another city with my husband, Neal, traveling back and forth to oversee the progress. Suddenly our lives were rudely interrupted with a health issue that led me along a dark, unknown pathway.

I called my doctor the next day for an appointment to find out what was going on with my body. With some mounting female health issues, my doctor recommended a hysterectomy and a biopsy of the breast lump at the same time. It’s still hard to believe that there was no internet in 1980. Every answer had to come from one’s doctor. For some reason, I wasn’t concerned about the biopsy. I figured if there was a problem, the lump could be removed, and my hysterectomy would take care of the other issues. How naïve could I have been? That was the way of thinking back then. Get a good doctor to fix you up, and you’ll be on your way to life again.

When I rolled out of recovery from hysterectomy surgery and settled into my room at the hospital, I awakened at 6:01 a.m. to see my husband, mother, and mother-in-law standing at my bedside. My first thought was, how nice it was for them to come see me this early.

That wasn’t why they were there. Neal leaned over my bed and tenderly whispered, “Janelle, they found cancer.” I will always remember the kindness in his eyes as he kissed me on the cheek.

“What? Tell me what I have to do to get rid of it,” I said. There were few options. One was to have a mastectomy. The other, a lumpectomy, which had only been around a few years without enough data to prove its long-term effectiveness.

I said a quick prayer, “God, please help me know what to do.” A clear answer came to me to have the mastectomy.

Two days later I returned to surgery, this time to have a mastectomy. With no complications, I planned to resume life. But my life would never be the same again. The changing course of my life started the day I went home from the hospital. Too many things had happened at one time!

What was the scariest part of that event? What did you think was the worst thing that could happen to you?

When Neal told me I had breast cancer, fear of death gripped me. I had no knowledge of the disease, and there were no resources available except what my doctor told me. Eleven years later when Neal and I founded National Breast Cancer Foundation, we wanted to give those resources to women so they could make informed decisions about their own healthcare. We wanted to replace fear of the disease with hope through early detection, which saved my life.

How did you react in the short term?

I had no choice when I left the hospital but to take care of my family. My husband needed his wife; my children needed their mother.

After dinner one night at dusk, I stood at my kitchen sink washing dishes. There were few trees in West Texas, but one small tree outside my kitchen window caught my eye. There was only one red leaf remaining on the tree, and it seemed to dance in the fall breeze. My emotions were as scattered as the pile of leaves on the ground beneath the tree. I said, “I want my life to be like that leaf, brilliant until the end.”

The memory of that red leaf drifted through the years with me until we founded NBCF and incorporated it into our logo, representing life, growth, and hope for the future. I never imagined that an ordinary event like washing dishes would give me an epiphany before NBCF was ever conceived.

After the dust settled, what coping mechanisms did you use? What did you do to cope physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually?

As my life began to move forward from the first day I went home from the hospital, I followed the natural pathway in front of me. I volunteered at a local hospital to fill the empty void of life with the enjoyment of giving to others while learning the ways of the hospital and how to communicate with doctors. Little did I know that I would work with medical facilities and doctors across the world in four continents in future years.

I spent eleven years involved with the National Speakers Association, learning everything possible to advance my skills. During that time, I also attended numerous writer conferences and continue today to study the art of writing.

There are no books, no manuals, no advice that solves the emotional, mental, physical, and spiritual aloneness following such a loss. I felt sadness over losing my breast, a once lovely part of my young body. I had fearful thoughts that my husband would leave me, and people would have nothing to do with me. Doctors could only treat the body, not the spirit. I did what I have done since I became a Christian at the age of nine. I prayed and trusted the Lord to guide my life.

One morning as I dressed for the day, I caught a glimpse of my broken body in the mirror. I stopped, took a deep breath, and looked down at my feet as I said aloud, “I have two feet to go places, two hands to work, a mind to think, and a mouth to speak. I will use all of those to do the will of God in my life.” That was a turning point for me. No longer did I look at my brokenness, but rather saw myself from the heart of my Heavenly Father who loved me as I was. That was my “move forward moment”.

Is there a particular person you are grateful towards who helped you learn to cope and heal? Can you share a story about that?

My husband, Neal, loved me and encouraged me every step of the way. I was concerned about how losing a breast affected him. A few years previously, he nearly died during gallbladder surgery, leaving him with an 18” scar across his stomach.

He said to me one day, “Tell me, Janelle. Does my scar bother you?”

“No, it doesn’t. I don’t even notice it,” I said.

“That’s the way I feel about your scar, too. I only see my beautiful wife. You are the same woman I have always loved,” he said.

When we founded NBCF years later, we realized there were many women with no support, so caring for those affected by breast cancer all the way through their journey became the heartbeat of NBCF.

In my own cancer struggle, I sometimes used the idea of embodiment to help me cope. Let’s take a minute to look at cancer from an embodiment perspective. If your cancer had a message for you, what do you think it would want or say?

I looked at cancer as my enemy, one that wanted to destroy me. I imagined cancer saying to me, “I will kill you. You don’t stand a chance against my powers.”

Here’s what I said to cancer, “You are not going to kill me. I am going after you and will hunt you down in the darkest parts of the earth, shining a bright light of education on you so women will not live with fear of the unknown and can make healthy decisions. I will be your Number One enemy!”

Today that is exactly what we have done at NBCF. We educate women and their families about early detection, offering support services, and help on their journey through breast cancer.

What did you learn about yourself from this very difficult experience? How has cancer shaped your worldview? What has it taught you that you might never have considered before? Can you please explain with a story or example?

Dealing with breast cancer revamped my worldview. I was always on the outside of the disease looking at others who had breast cancer, feeling sorry for them, but helpless to do anything about it. Now I was on the inside of the disease looking out at the pain and desperation that I experienced, along with others.

Helping others has become my life work.

How have you used your experience to bring goodness to the world?

My patience and understanding have greatly increased since breast cancer. I am freer to let go of petty issues that many times are unnecessary burdens and have a clear focus on my purpose of life. I found that looking only at my own losses can easily breed bitterness, hatred, and other negative attitudes. Helping others brings the joy out of my heart and a smile on my face. I know that through National Breast Cancer Foundation I am enriching the lives of women worldwide.

What are a few of the biggest misconceptions and myths out there about fighting cancer that you would like to dispel?

Here are a couple of misconceptions about breast cancer:

Before education on breast cancer emerged for the public to research on the internet, people thought they could catch cancer from another person, which is not the case.

People think breast cancer is an automatic death sentence. There are 3.8 million breast cancer survivors today. NBCF has developed local and national support groups for survivors to empower women with help and hope on their journey.

The internet is an amazing tool where we give correct information on our website, nbcf.org. We dispel the helplessness people feel when they don’t know where to go for help. We provide support services at every stage of their disease and give them hope. No woman should have to face breast cancer alone, and we are here to be the emotional and physical support they need with options to make wise choices.

Fantastic. Here is the main question of our interview. Based on your experiences and knowledge, what advice would you give to others who have recently been diagnosed with cancer? What are your “5 Things You Need To Beat Cancer? Please share a story or example for each.

Things You Need to Beat Cancer:

1. Seek medical help as soon as you discover something different about your breasts, such as a nipple discharge, a dimpling of the tissue, a redness, or other unusual symptoms. I have thought often about what would have happened if I had not followed through with medical help when I first found my lump. There would be no National Breast Cancer Foundation. As we celebrate NBCF’s 30th anniversary, we have given funding for 305,000 breast cancer screenings and diagnostic services and 1.7 million patient navigation services.
2. Reach out to people who will surround you with care and help. When women come to us for help, we find a way to connect them with resources. People frequently tell us that NBCF makes them feel loved and accepted. When you have once experienced that kind of care, you can’t help but give it away to others. Our volunteers tirelessly pack Hope Kits filled with thoughtful and comforting gifts and encouraging notes for thousands of breast cancer patients throughout the United States.
3. End bad habits such as overeating, excessive alcohol, smoking, and other things that deteriorate your health. Bad habits are distracting and can easily derail good health practices. Happiness comes from inside a person and flows outward, creating a better lifestyle and draws good people your way.
4. The best gift you can give those you love is to take care of yourself. It is time to turn your attention to preventative healthcare. We knew of a mother who died while saving up money she stored in an old coffee can so she could buy her son tennis shoes instead of using it to get a mammogram. Neglecting one’s own health can lead to tragedy for those you love.
5. Run away from bad attitudes and unhealthy thoughts that fuel the fire of fear. Fear can be the most destructive force to deal with. It can keep a person frozen in procrastination and indecision. I have met many women who waited a long time to get medical help and jeopardized their health doing so. I have heard women say they didn’t go to the doctor for fear of what they might find. Early detection can help eliminate later stages of breast cancer.

You are a person of great influence. If you could inspire a movement that would bring the most amount of good to the greatest amount of people, what would that be?

Early stages of breast cancer offer more options for a healthy outcome.

Take care of your body and educate others around. Early detection saves lives!

We are very blessed that some very prominent names in Business, VC funding, Sports, and Entertainment read this column. Is there a person in the world, or in the US with whom you would love to have a private breakfast or lunch, and why? He or she might just see this if we tag them.

I would be honored to have breakfast or lunch with Jerry Jenkins, 21-time New York Times bestselling author who has written nearly 200 books with over 72 million copies sold. He is one of the most successful writers of our time and generously shares his knowledge and skills through The Jerry Jenkins Writers Guild.

How can our readers further follow your work online?

Readers can follow my work on nbcf.org.

Thank you so much for sharing these important insights. We wish you continued success and good health!

The post Janelle Hail: A Story of Hope and Inspiration appeared first on National Breast Cancer Foundation.

Until diagnosis day, I was a very healthy person. I never took any medicine, never had anything wrong with me when I went to the doctor. But in a routine mammogram, a tumor was detected, and they asked me to come back. That had happened before, so I hadn’t thought too much about it. I thought, “It’s another one of those [callbacks].”

But this time it was different, and they said, “We’d like you back for a biopsy.”

I did the biopsy, and I just knew. When I got the call, I was home. It was a snow day. Thank God I was home, and I wasn’t at work. There were all these little God whispers along the way. The doctor said, “It’s invasive ductal carcinoma.”

I had never even heard that term before. I said, “Is that cancer?”

It was handled so well and professionally that I didn’t even really get upset; I just felt outside of my body. I was upset, of course, but I just went into work mode. Sitting down and telling the kids was probably the worst of it because they were 15, 13, and 12 at the time.

Calculations, Worries, and Doing What’s Best

I didn’t research because I knew it would have just worried me. I thought, “There’s nothing I can do about it anyway. I trust my doctors. I’m going to listen to what they have to say.” There’s a point, though, where you do need to know what you’re up against. Finally, when I let myself look around a little bit, I kept the balance between educating and not worrying. I learned IDC is common, about 70-80% of breast cancer diagnoses—and there were many, many survivors. I just knew it was going to be okay.

On the phone, they told me a nurse navigator would call me and set everything up. She was so calm and wonderful. Then, I met with the surgeon who explained my options. I was really surprised by how many medically recommended options there were. That was another hard part: There wasn’t necessarily a right or wrong decision for most situations, just whatever’s best for you.

Tuning Everything Out

When I found out my breast cancer was Stage 2, I went into tunnel vision. I was only focused on surgery. I opted for the bilateral mastectomy with reconstruction, and I felt good about that.

I told everyone, “I’ll be back to work in a few weeks because I don’t have to have chemo and radiation. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

When the pathology report came back, it showed cancer had spread to my lymph nodes. I didn’t hear a word my doctor said other than chemo. I could not believe I had to have chemo and radiation. Just a few weeks ago, I was fine.

How was I faced with more options and more decisions? All I wanted was to stop going to the hospital and getting more bad news.

After radiation, I went back to work. That’s when the healing really began because everyone said, “Yay, you’re done.”

Healing Forward

I had a neighbor who even threw me a chemo party, which, looking back, I was not ready for a chemo party, but it was a surprise and she really meant well. Something that was an education to me, my family, and all my friends: It’s not “Yay, you’re done.” It’s “Okay that treatment is over; now it’s time to heal.”

There’s a lot of healing that goes beyond the physical that I was not expecting. That’s when I found the National Breast Cancer Foundation support group.

Lasting Effects

I play the harp, and I think the breast cancer affected it a little bit. It was hard to go back to work. I couldn’t stop crying and thought, “Something is not right.”

Everyone encouraged me throughout my treatment: “Do you want to talk to someone?”

“No, I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to talk about it at all.” I was sure of that. I didn’t want to say the word “cancer.” I still bristle when I say the word “cancer.”

Then it became apparent I could not go on. I was depressed, and work was hard. My physical therapist nudged me to talk to someone, and I finally felt ready.

I started attending a local support group and cried the whole time. It took me a long time to share and express my feelings. But I never felt uncomfortable with other patients because I felt like they get it. They don’t think it’s complaining; they just think you’re sharing. I had trouble opening up and saying how it really was because it felt like complaining to me.

I asked if anybody had help with hormone therapy or advice, and Tina, the NBCF support group facilitator, suggested acupuncture. I tried it, and I feel like a new person.

Tina does an amazing job. I’ve attended three different support groups, but the reason this one is so special has a lot to do with Tina always knowing exactly what to say. I always walk away feeling validated and heard.

A Word for Myself and for Others on this Journey

If you don’t know if you’re ready for a support group, give it a try. I think you’d be surprised how many people are in your corner and fighting just like you are—how normal all the feelings are and how many people are feeling the same thing. Tina and the team at NBCF even point you in the direction of more resources.

There’s so much help out there. I was uncomfortable accepting help at home, but then realized people want to help; it makes them feel better. If you’re in the trenches of breast cancer: Take the meals. Take the help. Take the support. Take the ride for the kids. Take the HOPE Kit.

I selected a “word of the year” last year: grace. I kept thinking, why am I not bouncing back? Why can’t I go out and run? Why can’t I stop crying? I have to remind myself— you have been through a lot. Your body responded well, and you have to give it time. You have to give yourself grace. And if you’re just not there, give yourself space and time to get there. It might take a while. We only get one chance at this life, so I try to be gentle and kind to myself.

My word for this year is hope. I hope to get out of the pandemic and back to normal. And not even a pandemic normal, but maybe my life-after-cancer normal.

National Breast Cancer Foundation is here for you and your loved ones. Whether you need support, education, or help during treatment, we have a team dedicated to get you the help you deserve.

The post Now It’s Time to Heal: <br>Emily’s Story appeared first on National Breast Cancer Foundation.

Recently, Becca chose to share her truth to let others know that there is power in vulnerability, despite how scary it might be. Her story highlights the importance of early detection and finding support to make the first step towards mental, physical, and emotional health.

When my mother was diagnosed with Stage 4 breast cancer in 2009, I was devastated. It was the start of my marriage, and I had no idea what was in store for my mother or my family. We didn’t know how quickly her journey would escalate, but just 11 months later, my mother—my best friend—was gone.

The importance of listening to your gut

Before my mom’s diagnosis, she knew something was off. She had dealt with breast cysts before and knew this lump was different.

However, my mother suffered from severe anxiety and phobias which led to her putting things off. She hid her anxieties and delayed screenings like mammograms. Also, like so many other mothers, she set aside her health to focus on her family’s needs. I was planning my wedding and she didn’t want to take away from the light and joy of a wedding.

My mother delayed getting this specific breast issue checked out until it was severe.

She was diagnosed because of pain in her stomach that sent her to the ER (which turned out to be liver lesions), tracing the cancer back to the breast. Eventually, her cancer spread to her brain. My mother’s metastatic breast cancer journey was a very short one.

Supporting the cause while keeping a secret

At the time of my mother’s diagnosis, our family jumped into supporting the cause and engaged with various breast cancer organizations. We vowed to be advocates and wanted to share our mother’s story so other families might bypass what we had to experience. We participated in walks, talks, and everything in between to provide support and awareness. But what many people never saw is that I had inherited my mother’s extreme anxiety.

For the longest time, I put off seeing doctors and dentists because my anxiety was—and still is—so crippling. The fear of finding out bad news has paralyzed me from taking action more times than I can count.

Fast forward to my current job at National Breast Cancer Foundation. As part of my role, I share education and best practices with companies and individuals at community awareness events. The words leaving my mouth advocate for breast self-exams and being empowered in communicating breast health issues with healthcare providers. After several webinars, many counseling sessions, and receiving care for my anxiety, I finally made the decision to not just speak these words but live them myself. I couldn’t continue to be hypocritical and advocate for early detection if I was not going to follow the same advice.

Courage in the face of a global pandemic

Ironically enough, this “lightbulb moment” happened to me during a global pandemic. Talk about extreme fear therapy in action. I noticed a slight change in my breast and got the courage to share this with my general practitioner. After a clinical breast exam, my doctor referred me for a screening mammogram to establish a baseline.

With the support of my husband and two sisters, I scheduled the mammogram and tried to prepare myself for the mammogram. That waiting time between scheduling the appointment and screening was probably the worst part. Had I not been in counseling and established a steady medication regimen to help with my anxieties, I would have probably tried to cancel (multiple times). However, because of the support I had been receiving, I made it to appointment day.

As I arrived, I realized this was a facility I had toured as an NBCF employee, which made it a little easier walking through the doors. Overall, their procedures for COVID safety were fantastic, which also made me feel more comfortable.

The screening went well, and the technician was very understanding of my anxieties. She was warm and caring throughout the process. She even took the time to show me the images and explained the way the scans would be read to give me a baseline.

A couple of weeks later, I received a notice that my screening was clear, and I could wait until the normal age of 40 to reinstate mammograms into my yearly health routine. I learned that I have dense breast tissue, which is very common, but now I can use this information to discuss additional screening methods with my doctors to ensure accurate results.

My sisters and I have all received baseline screenings and will continue to support and encourage each other year after year to keep getting screened. Although I still have anxiety, I feel more empowered because I was able to get through my first mammogram.

In honor of my Mom

As we enter Breast Cancer Awareness Month, I honor my mom and her wish for me to be strong. I am receiving treatment and support for my anxiety and truly feel like I am honoring her legacy by doing some of these things her anxiety prevented her from doing. It’s extremely hard, but I have made progress, and I know without a doubt that my mom would be proud.

If you are also living with fears and anxieties, with support, you are capable of anything. It just takes tackling these moments one step at a time, and knowing that you are NEVER alone.

Looking for mammogram resources? Check out our free eBook Mammogram 101 and read our tips on how to schedule a mammogram.

National Breast Cancer Foundation is here for you and your loved ones. Whether you need support, education, or help during treatment, we have a team dedicated to get you the help you deserve.

The post How I Honored My Late Mother with My First Mammogram appeared first on National Breast Cancer Foundation.

Note: Written by NBCF HR Coordinator, Rebekah Zetts

Grand gestures of trying to create hope for others are not a productive way to help.

That might sound strong but hear me out. I had this belief that I could create hope for others. Or that I was being helpful by sharing the hopes I had for my friends going through challenging circumstances—even if those hopes were unrealistic. In retrospect, there were times that the hope I was giving was unhelpful.

After reading the eBook Finding Hope that Heals I had a lovely conversation with the author, Dr. Wendy Harpham, that changed my life. Our discussion wholly altered the way I look at hope for myself, hope for others, and how to make actionable, sustainable changes in the way I offer help. When I read Finding Hope that Heals, I was introduced to an entirely new way of thinking. Building a space for others to create their own hope is where the true magic happens.

Speaking with Dr. Harpham took me back to August 2016. I was about to get married. I lived overseas in South Korea, and I was visiting the U.S. for my wedding. I was also going through a cancer scare. My doctor found a large tumor next to one of my lymph nodes and another tumor on my thyroid. I was terrified. My wedding was just weeks away, and among the event planning came the anxieties of biopsies and doctors’ visits.

Much of the time when I was being comforted people would tell me that I “was going to be fine” or I was “young and had nothing to worry about.” Their hopes were not helping me through all the tests. I needed to hear that they would be by my side no matter what, or that they would be there to help if I needed it. Every time someone told me that I would be fine without listening to my concerns I felt isolated, alone, and less hopeful.

Dr. Harpham talks about hope not being a light switch you can “turn on” whenever you want. My medical experience truly exemplified this analogy. I wasn’t able to just turn on hope automatically. I was scared and overwhelmed. Everyone telling me I would be fine added to my anxieties because I thought that I would disappoint them if my tests came back with unfavorable results.

If everyone else thought I would be fine, why didn’t I feel that way, too?

Was I hoping the wrong way?

Was there something wrong with me?

My biopsy came back negative, but the feeling of fear and anxiety from this experience stayed with me. I needed to find helpful hope, and thanks to Dr. Harpham I finally had the opportunity to learn how.

Dr. Harpham describes hope as an active exercise, one that we can repeat daily or as often as needed. Hope can be like adjusting your rearview mirror. Sometimes we need to refocus on our hopes and remember to stay centered.

Now, when I go to the doctor, this is how I approach hope: I no longer hope that I will have no health concerns, but I hope to continue going to the doctor to manage my health proactively.

Each time a challenging situation arises, I imagine myself in a car, adjusting my rearview mirror, and I remind myself that hope can look different in different situations—and that is okay. It has been a journey, but I look forward to continuing on the path of “Finding Hope that Heals.” 

National Breast Cancer Foundation is here for you and your loved ones. Whether you need support, education, or help during treatment, we have a team dedicated to get you the help you deserve.

Dr. Harpham serves on National Breast Cancer Foundation’s Medical Advisory Council & remains dedicated to patients through her award-winning writing and patient advocacy work. Dr. Harpham’s own remarkable survival through and beyond cancer serves as testimony to the power of healing hope to help you live your best life, whatever the circumstances. For more about Dr. Harpham’s work, visit wendyharpham.com.

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Rene Carter joined her first National Breast Cancer Foundation virtual support group while she was sitting in the chemo chair receiving treatment. From that first moment, she was willing to share her vulnerability, her highs and lows, and her story…

Before receiving her diagnosis, Rene worked out five days a week, running and lifting weights. She had just celebrated her husband’s 50^th birthday and their 25^th anniversary with a family trip to Las Vegas when her OB-GYN noticed a lump in her left breast during her annual exam.

Rene’s doctor sent her for a biopsy and follow-up mammogram: “People say you never forget where you were” when you hear the news. Rene was standing in her kitchen on August 7, 2020, when her doctor called.

“After we talked, I sat on the floor thinking, ‘I cannot believe this.’ I went to the basement and got my quiet cry in, because both of my children were home,” she said. “I gave myself my 15 minutes. I sent a text to my girlfriends right away. I sent a text to my mom and then it was like, ‘Okay, we’re going to get through this. What do we have to do?’”

By August 12, Rene was in the oncology center making a treatment plan. An attorney, Rene knew she had to put that hat aside and take a fresh perspective: “I was very prayerful, but I looked at things more surface than I normally would because I knew that if I dug too deep, I would get mired in mess and fear. I plan to live until I’m 104 years old and 48 days. Anybody who knows me for more than three minutes will tell you that.”

She started chemotherapy, and her hair quickly fell out, so she held a “wig party” and “shaved the rest of my hair off, and I got all my little fancy wigs—Sheila and Tanya—and put them on display.” After five months of chemo and a three-week break, Rene had a lumpectomy with two lymph nodes removed, followed by 33 sessions of radiation and preventative chemo to come.

While Rene’s previous position was eliminated during the pandemic, she started a new role just days after receiving her breast cancer diagnosis. Her first conversation with her new manager involved sharing the news, and he was incredibly supportive.

“The days that I would have chemotherapy, I would be sitting in that chemo chair on work calls with video off. If it was my turn to speak, I turned it on. My boss would know when to lay off on giving me a lot because chemo just zaps you,” she added.

Rene found National Breast Cancer Foundation midway through the process from a friend who works at NBCF; her friend sent a HOPE Kit and shared information about virtual support groups.

“I join the support group every time I can because I want different avenues of support. In the support group, I know we’re all in the same boat. We may have different diagnoses, we’re in different places in our journey, but everybody understands nausea and impossible weight gain when you’re barely eating, and the endless ‘what do I do about this?’ scenarios. It’s a no-judgment zone,” she said. “There’s a different level of connectivity when talking to people from the National Breast Cancer Foundation support group. It’s just a wonderful resource.”

Rene’s biggest takeaway is “in spite of what all of us are going through, we keep going, we press through. I find it very encouraging to hear the stories of the ladies on the call and the things that they’re doing. You can just feel the envelopment of support and love and encouragement. That’s what stands out to me.”

Rene’s family and her “ride-or-die” crew also came through. She told her two college-aged daughters “‘I would be alright,’ and they believed me. One daughter was here for my wig party. One was here for my surgery. I think they got the right balance and measure of engagement for what I was going through, but I’m still ‘mommy.’ Now, they want to mommy me,” she said. “My husband deserves the medal of honor. He cooks for me. He took me to my chemotherapy sessions for as long as protocols would allow. He has been an amazing partner.”

Her mom and “ride-or-die” crew also helped with everything from grocery shopping – Rene swears by ginger products for reducing nausea – to walking and biking, praying, and just talking. Neighbors who became extended family and her pastor also supported Rene and her family throughout this process. She believes in having multiple avenues of support. As Rene puts it, “You don’t want to feel like you’re putting so much on an individual, so I have to spread the wealth.”

“Between that support system, my oncology team, and my nurse navigator, Jennifer, I’m set,” Rene said. “I wouldn’t want anyone to have to go through this process. But my goodness, if you did, this is the team, this is what you want.”

With a self-avowed “Type A” nurturing personality, Rene has learned to accept help: “This process has humbled me a lot and showed me that, ‘No, you’re not superwoman and you do need help.’”

She encourages anyone facing breast cancer to find a support group. “You feel like different people at different times throughout treatment and survivorship. You’re not always at a high, so you need to reach out to people who can meet you where you are at the moment,” she added. “To me, honestly, it’s easier to talk to the NBCF support group sometimes than talking to my family, because these are people who are going through the same thing. Being able to find a group who relates to you is invaluable.”

“This is wonderful, wonderful work that NBCF is doing and gives so much hope to people. People need to know that they’re not in this alone and that they will be okay, and that people have done it before them. It’s like a lift as you climb, people have gone before you, you can do it. You can do it.”

National Breast Cancer Foundation is here for you and your loved ones. Whether you need support, education, or help during treatment, we have a team dedicated to get you the help you deserve.

The post On Her Way to 104 Years and 48 Days appeared first on National Breast Cancer Foundation.

On July 10, 2016 Alene agreed to marry the love of her life. Just three days later, her entire world fell apart. 

Although she had no history of breast cancer in her family, she soon found herself sitting in a doctor’s office trying to process the words nobody wants to hear. 

“You have breast cancer.” 

It all started with a routine mammogram. Alene had just turned 41, and she was being proactive about her health by getting her first screening mammogram.  

The experience wasn’t quite what she expected. Alene’s primary care doctor called her to recommend an ultrasound to further investigate the abnormal results, but the results of the ultrasound only prompted more investigation. 

While Alene’s physician wasn’t sure if it was cancer, he referred her to a breast surgeon for a biopsy. The results of the biopsy were indisputable. 

When she first heard the news, Alene recalls that the doctor held her hand. 

“Everything was a blur,” she said. “I could see her lips moving, but I wasn’t hearing or processing anything that she was saying. My fiancé just sat in the chair looking at me. My mother was on speaker and just kept saying, ‘Are you sure?’”

At 41 years old, Alene was supposed to be planning her wedding and looking forward to a future with her fiancé. Instead, she was at the start of one of the most challenging seasons of her life. 

Alene’s official diagnosis was Stage 2 Invasive Ductal Carcinoma. 

Though difficult, she completed her treatment plan of two surgeries, eight rounds of chemo, and 24 rounds of radiation with the support of her loving family. 

Throughout her treatment, one thing was abundantly clear: Alene’s mammogram saved her life.

If Alene had postponed or avoided the procedure, it’s hard to say when she would have been diagnosed. However, many women choose to forgo the simple check-up due to finances. 

At NBCF, it’s our mission to provide early detection services to as many women as possible. 

“I am an advocate of early detection by mammogram because it saved my life,” Alene told us. “That is why I became a National Breast Cancer Foundation Community Ambassador: to encourage and empower women to take charge of their breast health.”

Wedding Bells and Survivor Bells

One year after her diagnosis, July 29, 2017, Alene married her husband. She writes, “My husband has been by my side through it all. He always says things happen for a reason. He was the primary caregiver to both his parents who died in 2009—three hours apart. He spoke at our wedding on how this prepared him to help me navigate through my journey.” 

Alene now reflects on where she is today:

“September 23^rd I will be a cancer survivor of five years. For women who have just been diagnosed, I would encourage you to ask questions and reach out to your family for questions they may have. I did this with my immediate family, and they came up with questions I would not have thought to ask my care team.”

Alene shares: “Your journey never really ends—only continues on in a different way.” As for what’s next on her journey?

“I want to travel home to Canada, since I have not been able to see friends and family due to the pandemic. I want to go to Hawaii to celebrate five years of survivorship. And I want to continue educating others on the importance of getting your first mammogram.”

National Cancer Survivors Day gives us a day to reflect on our unique experiences with cancer that led to where we are now and where we hope to be in the future. Join National Breast Cancer Foundation as we celebrate and honor survivors like Alene today and look to the future with renewed hope. 

National Breast Cancer Foundation is here for you and your loved ones. Whether you need support, education, or help during treatment, we have a team dedicated to get you the help you deserve.

The post Alene’s Five-Year Survivor Update after Stage 2 IDC appeared first on National Breast Cancer Foundation.

National Breast Cancer Foundation sponsors Metastatic Breast Cancer Retreats to provide patients with renewed hope, increased knowledge, end-of-life preparations, and the reminder that they are not alone.

The anticipation of Mother’s Day gives us a chance to reflect on the maternal figures in our lives, both biological mothers and the caregivers and nurturers who have made a difference. It also brings to mind two mothers I met while hosting a Metastatic Breast Cancer Retreat several years ago—this specific retreat was for patients who were not in a relationship and who were invited to bring their primary female caregiver.

In this case, Alice and Stephanie were both in their early 30s and had been best friends for two decades. Alice, who had metastatic breast cancer, had a three-year-old daughter—the girl’s dad was not in the picture, and Alice had lost both of her parents at a young age. While she had faced some trying circumstances, she was not alone.

Stephanie had been Alice’s labor coach when her daughter was born and had taken care of mom and daughter alike through treatments and consultations.

On the second day of this three-day retreat, we dedicated a special session to serious discussion: “Of everything that may lie ahead, what is your greatest fear?” The patients stayed in one room with me while the caregivers participated in a separate room with another facilitator.

As I listened, Alice shared that her greatest fear was her daughter going into foster care. I asked about Stephanie, but she responded, “No, this isn’t an option.” When I explored further, Alice said she had already disrupted Stephanie’s life by burdening her with the weight and work of primary caregiver since her diagnosis two-and-a-half years ago.

In the adjacent room, Stephanie was simultaneously sharing her greatest fear—that Alice’s daughter would be placed in foster care. When the facilitator inquired further, Stephanie replied, “Since Alice hasn’t asked me to adopt her, I figure she doesn’t think I would be a good mother figure for her daughter.”

After the discussion was completed in both rooms, we debriefed as facilitators and then brought everyone back for a follow-up session. I always open this session by noting, “There was a lot discussed in both of our breakout rooms. Who feels comfortable talking about one of the issues that arose in either room?” Unusually, the room stayed quiet.

I chose to further the discussion with, “There is a three-year-old girl who is going to lose her mommy to breast cancer in the coming months. She needs to be cared for by a loving woman who will be a great mom to her and who will keep the memories of her biological mother alive.”

Both Alice and Stephanie were startled.

I continued to ask Alice, “Why haven’t you considered your best friend, the person you love and adore, to adopt your daughter when the time comes?”

She responded, “Like I told you in our session, I have already derailed Stephanie’s life enough. She should be married now and have her own children. Even though she would be the perfect mom for my child, it is asking too much.”

Stephanie replied, “You and your daughter are my family. I was worried you didn’t think I would be a good enough mother figure.”

They embraced and agreed this would be the perfect solution and that they would see a lawyer upon returning home to draw up the necessary legal documents.

Incidentally, another thing we discussed during the retreat was Alice’s love of stilettos. Her doctor had forbidden her from wearing them because the cancerous lesions in her spine increased her risk of falls and fractures. Instead, I encouraged her to wear them when she was sitting down so she could still enjoy the look and feel of her favorite shoes.

They also agreed that, when Alice died, Stephanie would give Alice’s favorite pair of stilettos to the funeral director and ask for the lower half of the casket to be left open so everyone could see them. They both knew it would be Alice’s red sequin stilettos.

Three months later, Stephanie called and said, “I just wanted to let you know that my dear friend Alice is wearing her red sequin stilettos today and I now have her daughter…’our’ daughter. If we hadn’t attended this retreat, she wouldn’t be with me. I feel blessed that we found the retreat online and made the journey to you. Thank you.”

Mother’s Day can be a day of celebration and it can also be a challenging day as we remember those we have lost. Nevertheless, it is a beautiful opportunity to remember the moms and mother figures who have touched our lives and our hearts.

National Breast Cancer Foundation is here for you and your loved ones. Whether you need support, education, or help during treatment, we have a team dedicated to getting you the help you deserve.

The post Two Best Friends, A Toddler, and a Life-Changing Retreat appeared first on National Breast Cancer Foundation.

While Berniece has learned to listen to her body, she has also learned not to be defined by her body: “When you understand that breasts and hair don’t define you as a person, it becomes easier to demand different things out of your relationships and life.”

Her story of strength and faith in both herself and others highlights the hallmarks of International Women’s Day, which celebrates the achievements and power of women worldwide. This year’s theme is “Choose to Challenge.” While Berniece may not have chosen this challenge, she did choose how to respond to it.

Looking for the silver linings

Berniece—a mother of six kids—was diagnosed with breast cancer at age 38. Her mother was the first person she told. “She would talk to me in a slow, stern but gentle voice and remind me of how strong I was, and had to be, in order to beat cancer,” she said. “I needed to survive no matter what.”

She made the difficult decision to have a double mastectomy and promised she would never sugarcoat chemotherapy—she cried every day she had it and also struggled with “chemo brain.” Berniece turned to her family and faith on the good and bad days. “Breast cancer has strengthened and challenged me to be my best self,” she said.

Today, Berniece is working towards a degree in Human Services and enjoys spending free time with seniors and kids alike because life is “about touching as many people as you can with kindness and love.”

For women going through treatment, Berniece offers the following three pieces of advice:

1. Now is not the time to neglect yourself – take time to focus on your physical, mental, and emotional well-being.
2. Stop worrying that every ache and pain is a sign of cancer. Stay positive in the face of fear.
3. Make plans to celebrate your survivorship: Pray and keep the faith!

Every step of the way

It’s been 7 years since Berniece’s diagnosis. “This experience has taught me to love hard, to go over and beyond for others. I want people to know that breast cancer is not a death sentence. Yes, it is scary, and you will be scared at first, but prayer changes things,” she said. “Be bold and face it and know that you can win with the hope of survival, strong family support, a great patient navigator, and—most of all—faith.”

She also encourages breast cancer patients to plan ahead, envisioning yourself alive and well in the season to come: “Buy those nice winter red boots that you know you’ll look good in.  Buy a summer wardrobe in the winter. It is important to get up and get dressed, get fabulous, and live your best life!”

National Breast Cancer Foundation remains firmly committed to Helping Women Now and ensuring that no one navigates breast cancer alone. NBCF provided a patient navigator for Berniece, who helped and supported her every step of the way.

“I met my patient navigator, Evelyn on my first visit. We talked, we laughed and I cried—to talk to someone who was really listening was something I really needed.”

“We encourage you to unite with NBCF on International Women’s Day as we celebrate every woman: for all that the women in your life do and for who they are,” said Cinthia Gonzalez, Director of Education & Outreach, National Breast Cancer Foundation. “No matter what your individual journey looks like — from raising a family to pursuing dreams to focusing on your health — know that you are beautiful, strong, worthy, and loved.”

National Breast Cancer Foundation is here for you and your loved ones. Whether you need support, education, or help during treatment, we have a team dedicated to getting you the help you deserve.

The post Berniece’s Story of Bravery, Strength, and Faith appeared first on National Breast Cancer Foundation.

On the bright side, I got to wear wigs

The worst part of my breast cancer journey? I think it was the day I lost my hair. I prepared myself in advance, but I wasn’t nearly ready at all. My advice is to have one or two wigs ready before it happens.

Ironically enough, it was so much fun to be able to have different color wigs without coloring my hair. I’m an esthetician, and I didn’t want my clients to feel sorry for me. Some of them didn’t have a clue I was going through chemotherapy or that I was coming straight to work from my radiation treatments.

I was 51 years old when I introduced the word “cancer” into my vocabulary. When my doctor told me the diagnosis, I was mad. Why me? I felt overwhelmed. It was the end of the world for me. All the horror stories about chemo and breast cancer came to mind at that moment.

“I don’t want chemo. Anything but chemo.”

On the bright side, I had an extraordinary team of doctors

My doctor explained how and why we needed a plan. I met with my surgeon to go over the next steps. I looked at her plan, but I didn’t comprehend much. The only thing that came into my mind was that it would take forever.

I told myself that I had to trust my doctors—they are an extraordinary team and they know what they are talking about.

My first surgery was a mastectomy with sentinel lymph node removal and partial reconstruction. My second surgery removed 11 more lymph nodes, followed by four rounds of chemo with Adriamycin and Cyclophosphamide, 12 treatments with Taxol, and six weeks of radiation.

Then came the side effects.

Ice for my mouth, feet, and hands helped with mouth sores and neuropathy. Fresh fruits, lots of fluids, and homemade pressed vegetable juices helped me build my immune system to try to avoid any complications with treatment.

On the bright side, I was able to live a normal life

The fear of not being able to practice my job, not being able to feel my fingers, getting sick during treatments—it all motivated me to follow doctors’ and nurses’ orders. I never missed a treatment. I never canceled my clients. I never gave up. It felt like, “Mission accomplished!”

Yes, it was a long journey, and it wasn’t easy. But I worked every single day and was able to have a normal life. A life filled with lots of love from my family and friends.

On the bright side, I found something new that made me happy

My fellow beautiful ladies, you have no idea how relaxing, rewarding, and how much happiness it can give you to paint rocks. Yes, rocks…

I have no talent, but those rocks make me incredibly happy. I paint and look at them for a few days. Then I’ll go to parks or quiet streets and leave them on benches for people to find to bring them happiness. Or I’ll give them to my friends.

It’s a small, unexpected gift that I can leave behind. Maybe it’ll make someone’s day. Maybe it’s the sign they’d been searching for. Either way, it’s something new that brings me joy.

On the bright side, I am alive

Every day when I wake up, I thank God for giving me another beautiful day on earth. Putting life into perspective is my goal now. I learned how to say “no” and to listen to my body more.

To everyone who is dealing with breast cancer: You are stronger than you think, and you are beautiful. No matter what, every cloud has a silver lining.

National Breast Cancer Foundation is here for you and your loved ones. Whether you need support, education, or help during treatment, we have a team dedicated to get you the help you deserve.

The post On the Bright Side appeared first on National Breast Cancer Foundation.

Life with my wife before breast cancer was carefree.

Ash found out she was pregnant in 2015, so after we had our first child, Liam, we followed our dreams and moved to Nashville. We loved going to concerts, working out, taking Liam to the pool, and cooking. Nothing we did would ever lead us to believe one of us would be diagnosed with cancer.

Three years into our relationship, Ash was diagnosed with breast cancer. I was in China for work and she got the call confirming she had breast cancer while driving to pick me up from the airport.

Honestly, I felt numb for the first month or so. Kind of in disbelief but at the same time very optimistic that everything would be okay. I felt the need to be Ash’s rock and not show her that this diagnosis phased me at all.

I remember feeling an overwhelming amount of anxiety and breaking down around two months after her diagnosis. I realized I couldn’t walk around with all of my emotions bottled up. It was okay to be vulnerable and share how I felt with Ash. It ended up bringing us closer. We knew we were in this together, and our only option was to stand side by side and fight with everything we had.

As a caretaker, fighting for me meant going the extra mile so my wife didn’t feel obligated to do more than she needed to. Ash is a go-getter, like many wives and moms — she will work herself to exhaustion regardless of how she feels or what she has going on. So, my main role was to take charge and do the things I knew she had to have done, before she had the chance to do them. In the end, I just tried to be the person she needed me to be every day. 

Last month Ash got confirmation that her scan and bloodwork came back clear. October 25, 2020 will officially mark us three years cancer free. The joy of that moment has only been exceeded with the arrival of our second, perfectly healthy, baby boy, Lennon.

The longer Ash stays cancer free, the more the thought of recurrence continues to fade. But I would be lying if I said it didn’t cross my mind from time to time. Tomorrow is never guaranteed—we have learned that lesson along the way and know that not everyone is as lucky as we have been throughout our journey.

Looking back, this is what I would tell other men caring for their wives or loved ones facing breast cancer:

Be the rock, but stay vulnerable. Express your emotions out loud. Hug each other and cry together. Be whoever they need you to be. And remind them of who they are, even with cancer.

My wife has always been a warrior—there is no quit in her. She was determined to complete a half marathon, while still actively in treatment. Running was a part of our life before cancer, and she vowed to stay the course. We completed the half marathon together, staying by each other’s side for the entire race and holding hands when we crossed the finish line. That is one of the happiest moments I’ve ever had with Ash.

There is no perfect answer, perfect husband, or perfect caregiver. Everyone expresses themselves in different ways, but I realized quickly that it was better to endure this terrible time by showing my partner how I felt day in and day out.

There were some good days, but the bad days consumed us during this time. Some days were physically taxing, and others were mentally taxing. Not knowing what will happen to your significant other when they are diagnosed with breast cancer is terrifying. It’s normal to feel scared to death every day while fighting this terrible disease. It’s okay to be scared, but being scared should never take your fight away. Take on the warrior mentality like Ash did. Do better in every aspect of your life. Make the changes you know you need to make. Being a caretaker isn’t easy, but it’s hugely important.

National Breast Cancer Foundation is here for you and your loved ones. Whether you need support, education, or help during treatment, we have a team dedicated to get you the help you deserve.

The post Being There All the Way: Life as a Husband to a Breast Cancer Survivor appeared first on National Breast Cancer Foundation.