I’m a Therapist Who Survived Breast Cancer—Here’s What I Do When Recurrence Fears Hit

I went back to my ob-gyn, and at first he said the doctor who did my ultrasound earlier that year said I was in the clear. I responded that there was nothing clear about this—there was something there. I kind of caused a ruckus in the office, but I got an order for another ultrasound.

This time I had another doctor do it. At first he said a lot of the same things, like, “You’re too young for cancer,” but there was one key difference: He told me he knew how important looking into it further was to me. Within 45 seconds of starting the test, he turned the screen toward me and was like, “How could they miss this?” He said the mass was about the size of a golf ball.

The doctor told me I needed a biopsy, and the clinic scheduled an appointment for me within the week. During that time I continued going about my life—I really didn’t think anything was wrong. I just thought there was something in my breast that they’d maybe have to remove. Cancer didn’t cross my mind.

They scheduled an in-person appointment to review the results, but being the workaholic I was at the time, I got busy at the office and actually missed my appointment—I didn’t realize it until I saw two missed calls from the clinic. When I called back I told them they could just give me the results over the phone, but they told me to come in the next morning.

I thought they were just being really professional, that whatever they had to tell me was important to tell me face-to-face. But I still didn’t think it was cancer. The next day I was jamming to music on my way into the clinic. I walked in smiling and scrolled on my phone as I waited—no negative thoughts to be found. It wasn’t until I entered the exam room and saw the look on the doctor’s face that I knew something was wrong.

His words to me were: “I’m so sorry. You’re too young for this. You have cancer.” And I just burst into tears. My life changed after that.

I learned I had stage 2, estrogen-receptor-positive, HER2-negative breast cancer. It was grade three, meaning it was fast-growing and more likely to spread than other types.

I got the diagnosis on the Friday of a holiday weekend, right before New Year’s Eve. For a bit after that I was in a daze. My husband and I were supposed to travel to New Jersey to spend the holiday with his mom, but we canceled and stayed in.

In the new year I had other tests done: an MRI to make sure the cancer hadn’t spread anywhere else in my body, followed by genetic testing for the BRCA mutation. Thankfully, the MRI came back clear, and my BRCA test was negative. Based on the size of the tumor, my doctor recommended either a single or double mastectomy; because my cancer was only on one side, I was given that choice.