Until recently, I thought breast cancer was something that only affected older women—those with family histories, unhealthy habits, or who used questionable beauty products. I was mistaken.
In April, I discovered a lump in my right breast and immediately scheduled an appointment with my gynecologist. Having previously had two non-cancerous lumps removed, I assumed surgery was in my future again. After undergoing an ultrasound and mammogram, I was relieved to hear that everything appeared normal.
However, a week later, I contacted my doctor again; the lump felt larger and more painful. My youngest child, still under a year old, kept bumping into the sensitive area, and everyday friction from my seatbelt and purse didn’t help. Encouraged to see a breast surgeon, I went in hopeful.
That visit included another ultrasound and a biopsy, and I remained optimistic that the results would show my dense breast tissue was simply misbehaving once more. But two weeks after the biopsy, I found myself back in the surgeon’s office, donning an uncomfortably flimsy maroon medical gown. The doctor entered with her iPad, and after some small talk, she delivered the crushing news: I had breast cancer.
The details that followed became a blur—mastectomy, chemotherapy, radiation—all words that seemed to bounce around my head like an echo. I left with brochures and an MRI order, but my world had shifted dramatically. I struggled to eat and became a shell of myself, caring for my four children on autopilot while battling a storm of anxiety. The looming question in my mind was simple yet terrifying: Was I going to die?
One Sunday afternoon, I stood in my kitchen, peering out at my family swimming happily in the backyard. They laughed and splashed, seemingly unaffected by the storm brewing inside me. In that moment, I felt like a ghost—present yet ready to fade away. Then it hit me: I was a wife, a mother, a sister, a friend, and a writer. I had purpose and a life to fight for. Cancer would not take that from me.
With newfound determination, I resolved to fight back. I secured an appointment at a renowned cancer facility, underwent more imaging tests, and learned I had ductal carcinoma in situ (DCIS). My doctor presented me with two options: a lumpectomy followed by six weeks of radiation, or a mastectomy. Many women my age opt for the lumpectomy to preserve their natural breasts, but I learned that DCIS has a high recurrence rate, often showing up in the opposite breast. The thought of that recurrence pushed me toward the mastectomy; the chance of cancer returning after that would be around 1%.
Eight weeks after my diagnosis, I underwent a bilateral mastectomy, where all my breast tissue was removed and replaced with implants while preserving my outer appearance. I am now four weeks post-surgery and growing stronger each day. Though my journey has been deeply personal and certainly frightening, I feel a responsibility to share an important message with other women: If you suspect something is off, trust your instincts. Your intuition can be life-saving.
Less than 5% of breast cancer cases occur in women under 40, and I found myself in that small percentage despite having minimal risk factors. Here I am, with a new set of breasts and a diagnosis that now accompanies my medical history, all because I chose to listen to my gut. I urge you, dear reader, to do the same.
As October is National Breast Cancer Awareness Month, I encourage you to educate yourself, and if you have concerns, please seek advice. For further information on fertility and health, check out this excellent resource on pregnancy and home insemination.
Summary
Rachel’s journey with breast cancer began when she discovered a lump in her breast, leading to a diagnosis of DCIS. After weighing treatment options, she chose a bilateral mastectomy to ensure a lower risk of recurrence. Her experience highlights the importance of listening to one’s intuition about health concerns and advocating for oneself.