Reflections on My Breast Cancer Journey

I've been thinking about what I'd include in this post since just before my DIEP Flap surgery last month, because I knew there were elements of the journey I wanted to share that aren't rosy, brave, or empowering.

For full context, the timeline of  my breast cancer journey went a little like this:

1. Annual Mammogram in January 2025
2. 3D Mammogram + Breast Ultrasound in January 2025
3. Breast Biopsies in February  2025
4. Breast Cancer diagnosis in February 2025
5. Bilateral Mastectomy Surgery in June 2025
6. Medically induced menopause started in July 2025
7. Five-year estrogen-blocking medication, Letrozole, started in July 2025
8. DIEP Flap Surgery in February 2026

All of this in just over one year, with my last surgery taking place almost to the day of my confirmed breast cancer diagnosis.

I wish things could be tied up with a pretty little bow, because I've done the big things I was told to do and chose to do, but that's not reality. There's more ahead of me with continued medically induced menopause shots, hormone-blocker meds, and finding ways to transition into survivorship.

Diagnosis Reflections
Being diagnosed with cancer was something I knew would catch me due to my family history. Did I know it would catch me so young? No.

I've described the experience of coming to terms with my cancer diagnosis as feeling submerged underwater to the point that light was barely visible above me. The voices of my care team, family, and friends were muffled and distant. I was alone in the dark. 

Because I am a person who pushes through, I eventually resurfaced, committed to approaching whatever came my way with new knowledge, optimism, and bravery. I was able to do this through personal drive and, undoubtedly, because of all the people around me who lifted me up. Every single person led with care and concern in both my personal and professional life, for which I'm very fortunate.

Having and fighting breast cancer became my sole focus and purpose leading up to my bilateral mastectomy. I became single-minded about it all, but because I am very introspective, I think this was necessary for me to process what was happening.

​Bilateral Mastectomy Reflections
When I started down the path to treatment, having a bilateral mastectomy was my nightmare. When it was time to decide my course of treatment after being presented with pathology findings, a bilateral mastectomy was the only option that felt best for me. 

With multiple known tumors in my left breast (unknown tumors found post-surgery) and dense tissue in my right (unknown pre-/borderline cancerous findings post-surgery), I wanted to eliminate the worry of breast cancer coming back. I didn't want to continue breast screenings, knowing I'd always have three tests at minimum - standard mammogram, 3D mammogram + breast ultrasound, and/or an MRI. And lastly, I wanted to avoid radiation or chemotherapy if I could.

My physical therapist used the word "amputation," which was the first time I had heard that term used in relation to mastectomies. That's exactly what it is. An amputation of a body part that is traditionally looked at as a rite of passage into womanhood and a primary feature of feeling feminine. 

I did mourn this loss before and after surgery. For me, my breasts are something that make me feel beautiful and confident. Having them taken away against my will broke my heart a bit. To help capture my body before jumping into cancer treatment, my husband took some beautiful pictures of me in my most complete and natural state. I shared one below.

The surgery itself was a breeze; I was surrounded by loved ones, and I recovered just fine.

I had tissue expanders put into place in preparation for a future reconstruction surgery, which took some time to get used to. To help create a visual for the girlies reading this, my breasts looked normal and lifted with clothes on, but if you poked the right spot it would feel like an empty plastic bottle rebounding from being pushed on. My breast shape and size fluctuated slightly based on different factors (external/internal temps, weight, etc.), and there were up to nine inch horizontal scars across the center of each one. My nipples were not spared, so they were completely gone. By the end of our time together, I had grown used to them, their foreign feeling on my body, and all. 

​Menopause Reflections
Having menopause medically induced was not on my BINGO card for 2025. After discussion with my Medical Oncologist, we determined that prompting menopause alongside taking a daily hormone-blocker pill would be the best course of action for me. Prompting menopause would lessen serious side effects from the medication. The hormone-blocker would help reduce the risk of cancer recurrence.

I get a shot monthly to move menopause along. So far, I've had these common symptoms:

• Hot Flashes
• Frozen Shoulder
• Mood Changes
• Hair Loss

Outside of this, the experience has been tolerable. I like having control over when this is happening since menopause is such a turning point in women's lives.

The pill I take is an estrogen blocker called Letrozole. I have had no negative side effects as far as I can tell. If I have, they are items that overlap with my menopause symptoms.

Once I'm more recovered from surgery and further into my menopause journey, I plan to get hormone testing done so I can get them balanced out. I am deep into research about what I can do now to help my future self. Our bodies are incredible things, and if I could share one finding now, it's that gut health is SO IMPORTANT!

Reconstruction Reflections
Reconstruction was absolutely the hardest part for me, physically and mentally. 

The alternative to reconstruction is going "flat." I did consider that option to avoid another surgery, but to feel most like myself after this chapter closes, I thought having breasts would be important for me.

I chose ​Deep Inferior Epigastric Perforator (DIEP) Flap breast reconstruction surgery that used my stomach tissue instead of implants. I wanted the most natural outcome. Implants have the potential to leak; regular scans to prevent or catch leaks are required, and they need to be replaced every 10-15 years. I chose the option that is more "intense" up front for a longer-term, lower maintenance outcome.

Even though I knew the general process I was going into for surgery, I think I was more nervous this time. Most likely because going under anesthesia for a 14-hour major surgery is pretty intense! My care in the hospital was superb, but things got hard after I got home. The surgery is no joke; I talk in more depth about the recovery complexities here.

Physically, to be blunt, I feel like Frankenstein. Focusing on my body's flaws is luckily something I don't normally ruminate on, so feeling like I do now is foreign. I have up to 9-inch scars running horizontally on each breast with a circle in the middle to represent my nipples, which were not spared during my mastectomy. These circles are attached to skin and tissue from my abdomen. They're important to visually confirm that blood is flowing between my original breast tissue and the added abdominal tissue. Additionally, I have an up to 24-inch scar at the bottom of my abdomen and a reconstructed belly button. I am pushed over the edge when I also include thoughts about the bruising, swelling, and new (undesired) angles to my body.

Mentally, I'm rebounding. The day I was able to get two of my four drains out, I didn't think I could cope. I spent the morning at the cancer center getting poked and prodded - labs, consultations, a 30-minute infusion, a shot. When it came time for the shot (which they had to do in my THIGH) I was certain I was going to throw a child-like fit. I smothered my face with a pillow until it was over. We then rushed to Iowa City for drain removal. I flat out told the nurse that I felt extremely fragile and unprepared for the removal. She was so kind and let Joel hold my hand and coach me through. The second picture below captures me just before that happened, trying my best to dig as deep as I could to find an ounce of bravery and strength. There was none to be found.

I've never been unable to pull my shit together and adult through my appointments. This was truly the first time I felt helpless and that my body couldn't take any more. 

To compound the feelings of weariness, I have gone through several phases of, "Was this decision silly and vain?" Having a mastectomy was a no-brainer surgery - I was getting cancer out of my body to save my life. Having reconstruction was different because I felt that I was asking for support from others and my job so that I could essentially get a tummy tuck and new boobs. But here's the thing. Would I have chosen to do it if I hadn't had cancer? Absolutely not. I had to reframe my thoughts. Reconstruction is the last big piece of my cancer chapter before it can be finished. Reconstruction is cancer-related. Reconstruction is OK. Reconstruction is not silly nor vain. 

That's enough emotion dumping for today! If you're interested in reading more in-depth details about each step, you can click here.

​And thanks for listening <3