This Breast Cancer Awareness Month, one survivor reflects on how an unexpected diagnosis changed her perspective on self-care, resilience—and making the most of every day.
By Grace White
Essence
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Malignant.
It was seeing that word on the medical report that brought everything into perspective. My primary care physician had told me. The radiologist who read the images had told me. It’s not that I was in denial, but holding an actual copy of the results in my hands and seeing it in black and white, that’s when it became real—the “C” word had come calling. This wasn’t about an article I was editing, a subject I was interviewing or a study I was reporting on; this time it was personal.
It all started last October when I had gone for my mammogram, like I do every year during Breast Cancer Awareness Month. I also went for my annual visit to the gynecologist who did her usual physical exams of my breasts. I’ve been diligent about making both appointments for years.
Everything seemed routine, so I almost didn’t read the letter I got from the imaging center a week or so later, because I was sure it would be the usual “Okay, you’re good to go for another year” notice.
But this one was different. The radiologist was requesting that I return for a follow-up mammo. After that second mammogram, the doctor recommended getting a biopsy because they had seen “something” in the images of my right breast, and the best move would be to check it out.
I’d never been advised to do a biopsy before, and that sounded truly ominous. I’m not typically a worst-case-scenario person but the possibilities and the dreaded “what if” option did cross my mind.
I got the results of the biopsy on December 23. Needless to say, for me the entire holiday season after that was a blur. I gave my hubby the terrifying news but did not tell the rest of my family. My reasoning: I didn’t want to ruin their Christmas. I pretty much made everything and everyone else in my life a priority to avoid focusing on the “C” word.
At night, though, I found myself unable to sleep, with all the thoughts running around in my head: How bad was it? How did I get it? Would I lose my entire breast? Would I have to undergo chemotherapy? I couldn’t feel any lumps so how could I have breast cancer? Shouldn’t I have felt something?
The last two questions were what I focused on. There was no lump for me to feel. Everyone who examined me couldn’t feel anything—the nurse practitioners, the doctors, the specialist, the experts all felt nothing.
When you’re first diagnosed, you’re in shock. You’re scared, dazed, overwhelmed. I was all that and more. Info came at me fast and furious and I didn’t know how to process as I normally would. It took a minute for me to acknowledge that normal had gone out the window with that biopsy result.
My immediate treatment plan included surgery and radiation therapy. Long-term, I will be taking the so-called “cancer pill” every day for the next five years of my life with the hope of reducing the chances of the disease returning. Fortunately, I didn’t need the procedure I was most afraid of—chemotherapy.
The team at Maimonides Cancer Center in Brooklyn have been a godsend during all of this. For the first half of this year, I was at the facility almost every week—sometimes several times per week—doing some test, seeing another consultant, following up after a procedure. I consider my surgeon, Joshua Feinberg, M.D., my radiation oncologist, David Berlach, M.D., and my medical oncologist Abhingha Kodali, M.D., to be rock stars. I know God put me in their hands for a reason. The skeptic in me often asks for second and even third opinions when it comes to matters related to my health. I didn’t feel the need this time. They were all very thorough, did not disregard my fears, made sure I understood my options and answered all my questions (even the ones I had after consulting Dr. Google, LOL). I felt comfortable leaving my care in their hands.
Having the support of family and close friends has been invaluable—even the ones who cussed me out for not telling them what I was going through earlier!
There were the prayer warriors who called me in the mornings. The ones who stopped by just to give me a hug—or a beef patty. The ones who checked in, let me vent, listened, and somehow always seemed to know when I needed a little extra love. And then there were those who kept me supplied with chocolate.
Every one of them played a part in helping me navigate this past year. Their love, prayers, laughter, encouragement and presence reminded me that I didn’t have to carry this by myself. They are all a part of my team.
This year marks my first Breast Cancer Awareness Month as a survivor. On October 1st I attended an event hosted by the American Cancer Society to kick off a month filled with activities, recognition and support. Being in a room with other women walking a similar scary journey was powerful, comforting—and somehow a joyful occasion.
We bonded over talk of “night sweats” that occur throughout the day, side effects for which you can never be prepared, concerns about weary caregivers and the strength that comes with the experience. None of us asked for this, none of us planned for this. Yet here we were sharing stories, laughing, listening and reminding one another that we were not alone. Most of all we were all grateful to still be around to talk about it.
This journey has changed me in ways I never expected. I’ve learned that self-care isn’t always about what we do for our bodies. For me, it’s become much more about protecting my mental and emotional health and giving myself permission to rest, to feel, to process and to prioritize my peace. These are things Black women often have a hard time doing.
It’s also been about expanding my boundaries, so now I’m saying “yes” to more things outside of my comfort zone.
That mindset led me to run in the annual New Balance 5th Ave Media Mile for the first time. And then came the surprise of my life. Unbeknownst to me, a coworker had nominated me for the “Most Inspirational Media Miler” award—and I won!
She shared that she found it inspiring that, despite the health challenges I was facing, I continued to show up for the team with my usual positive outlook. Hearing those words as they read the citation and presented me with the plaque, brought me to tears. Sometimes, we don’t realize the impact we’re having simply by showing up and being ourselves.
And now, as a survivor (I like “thriver” better) I feel an even greater responsibility to encourage other women: please get screened.
If you’re afraid of getting a mammogram, if you’ve been putting it off or if you’ve convinced yourself that it can wait, please reconsider. I know firsthand how important those screenings can be.
I religiously went for my mammogram every year. Because I had that history of regular screenings, there were records and images that could be compared over time and help tell the story of what was happening in my breast health. The five-year survival rate for someone like me, diagnosed with stage 1 breast cancer, is 99%. I can live with those numbers.
Please don’t put your mammogram at the bottom of your priority list. Make the appointment. Keep the appointment. Ask the questions. Take care of yourself. Do your monthly breast self-exam. You never know what can make a difference.
Here’s to awareness, hope, strength, healing, stepping outside of comfort zones and the beautiful gift of life.
For more information on breast health, screenings and activities for Breast Cancer Awareness Month, visit the American Cancer Society.
