When it Pours, it Monsoons

The results from my biopsies are in. They have been in for a while, actually, but the last time I tried to share my results on WordPress, I got an error message. Figures. Apparently WordPress does not want me to share the following with the world, but I am doing it anyway:

I have cancer.

My biopsy returned news of malignancy in my right breast, and the ultrasound shows a tumor around 2cm in size. The cancer is also invasive, meaning it has broken from the duct where it started. Invasive ductal carcinoma. Has a night ring to it, no? The radiologist started one of her sentences with “Your cancer…”. My cancer. What the hell?

This was not supposed to happen. I am only 25 years old. I was supposed to learn I had some fat lobules or whatever it was that people my age have. Not breast cancer. But I couldn’t be that lucky.

I found this out on Monday the 21st of March, and in the week and a half since I’ve known, I’ve basically gone through all of the stages of grief. I have been angry at my body for betraying me in this way. I have been terrified and pondering my own mortality. I have been depressed, feeling like I have nothing to look forward to in life anymore. I have felt guilty, like there was more I could have done to prevent this, and that I’m letting down my family who already had to deal with my mother’s breast cancer, which ended up with her dying when I was merely 3 years old.

Today, I’m actually feeling okay. My decisions have been made and my course is planned – as much as it can be for now. I will have a double mastectomy and reconstruction with implants. Between the mastectomy and implants, while I am being expanded, I will go through chemo. It is weird to type this like it’s no big deal, and I would love to share my thought processes, but I’m not trying to write a novel here.

What I can say is that my mind is made up and I am at peace with it. I honestly hardly even entertained the idea of a lumpectomy or unilateral mastectomy. I just knew in my heart that this is what I wanted – I. Do. Not. Ever. Want. To. Have. Cancer. Again. It’s that simple. With this gene my chances of a second cancer are nearly 65%. To that statistic I say, “Screw you.” It just makes sense for me to prevent this from ever happening again.

When I first got the results that I was BRCA 1+ positive, I thought mastectomy was crazy and drastic. But I am no longer a previvor. I am now a cancer patient, and if all goes well, I will be a cancer survivor. I’d like to keep it that way for a long time.

I guess this means a lot for my blog – it’s no longer just about wearing my BRCA genes, it’s now also about being a 25-year-old with breast cancer. Whoop-dee-doo.

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11 thoughts on “When it Pours, it Monsoons

  1. I just let out a gasp reading this and immediately turned to pick up the phone to call you… but of course, I don’t know you in real life (or your number). I want to reach through the screen and hug you. I want to cry with you. I want to tell you how much I’ll be rooting for you. But of course, even as I type these words, I know they are inadequate. I’m so sorry for what you are facing. Please know you have an entire community behind you, rooting for you. If you ever want to talk, please email me goodbyetoboobs at gmail dot com. Thinking of you. XOXO

  2. You are a brave, strong woman! We will all go through this with you every step Of the way. Keep writing! YOu will be be Ok after a shitty summer .

  3. I am so very sorry to hear this! I wish I had some sage words of wisdom to share with you, but words are failing me. There are lots of people for you to lean on during this time, and you don’t have to go through it alone. Will keep you in my thoughts. xx

  4. I am also speechless at reading your blog. It is so upsetting but you do have legions of mutant warriors behind you! I am so sad you have to go through this so young, but to know you carry the mutation does help you to level the playing field after your treatment. My thoughts and prayers are with you.

  5. I don’t even know your name or where you live but I’m so deeply touched by your story…my heart goes out to you. May God watch over you, give you strength & guide the hands of your surgeons. You will be a survivor!

    1. LITA, PAT, JANINE, TERI,and STEPH,
      surgery today, good thoughts towards Washington,D.C. please.
      Cara’s Dad

  6. I am sitting here with tears running down my face……..no not so much because of what you have just shared in terms of a diagnosis but more for the way in which you have chosen to speak out about it and the STRENGTH that you obviously possess. Please know that I am sending you out healing and much love as you travel this journey……continue to blog and we will continue to read and travel with you as much as we possible can and you will allow. Stay strong….stay very positive and never let this get you down. My mother in law got breast cancer and was over 25 years cancer free……with the BRCA1 mutation. You can do this. Bless you………your gonna come through this…………you ARE.

    Tania.

  7. I just wanted to say my heart goes out to you. I, to, am a BRCA1 carrier. I had my surgery pbm almost a year ago now.
    I am soo sorry that you have to deal with this, I wish you a speedy recovery, and that soon you will be cancer-free and can put this all behind you. You are soo very strong!
    Megan

  8. 5 am, you are resting, you have not moaned or bitched in two days, you would be forgiven if you did . May your future be without fear, pain, or disease.a fathers wish for his daughter.

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