The Big "C"

If you’re reading this, you probably saw my news on Insta - Welcome! If you're a dedicated reader of mine (LOL) who has been anxiously awaiting my next post – Hello! Sorry for abandoning you. You know how life goes. 

In case you don’t make it through the rest of the post, I’ll put the most important message at the top: 

To those of you reading this who have breasts - DO NOT put off your annual mammogram. To those of you reading this who do not have breasts but know someone who does, tell them NOT to put off their annual mammogram.  

My tumors were found during an annual mammogram. In prior years, including last year, after a 3D mammogram, diagnostic mammogram, and ultrasound, there have been no suspicious findings. If I was lax, thinking, “Ah, they never find anything, I’ll be fine putting it off this year,” my situation could be worse. Fortunately, my cancer was caught early because I kept my 2025 appointment. 

I have a strong family history of cancer, including breast cancer, so I am adamant about self-exams. I did not feel anything. I still can’t feel anything knowing where the tumors are located. There has been no pain, nothing out of the ordinary. If not for my annual mammogram, I would not know I have cancer. 

Something I did NOT have on my 2025 BINGO card was cancer. I started the year on top of the world. Freshly 40 years old, sweet home and little family of my own, employed, pursuing new educational and volunteer opportunities, and looking forward to a year of fun with friends and family. I’m still all those things, but with a bit of a dark cloud looming. If you looked at my January monthly reflection notes, you’d see words of excitement followed by a long line of exclamation points. If you looked at my February monthly reflection notes, you’d see a mostly blank page with a note essentially saying, “I HAVE CANCER.” 

The best way I can describe what hearing I have cancer felt like was immediate submersion into water. Holding my breath, sinking, looking up at the surface as it drifted farther away, disconnected, surrounded by dull, muffled background noise. I remained in that state up until just a couple of weeks ago. 

I won’t go through all the tests and biopsies I experienced to confirm the diagnosis, that alone was an adventure in itself. My outlook was, “I like having new experiences so I understand more things and can relate more with others,” to make it through. Ultrasound-guided biopsies confirmed my first tumor. A follow-up MRI-guided biopsy confirmed a second. Both Stage 1, moderately aggressive, Invasive Ductal Carcinoma = early stage and curable.
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​I worked with a fabulous local team through UnityPoint Health and Cedar Valley Breast Care Center. When a more serious surgery was recommended by my breast surgeon, I chose to get a second opinion with University of Iowa Healthcare. I initially avoided getting a second opinion because 1) I trusted the team I started with, and 2) I didn’t want to have to risk going through all the same testing twice. Fortunately, all my testing from Waterloo was transferred seamlessly and able to be read by UIHC specialists. Getting a second opinion ended up being a good choice in my case.

​After much consideration, I’ve chosen to receive the bulk of my care with UIHC. I’m not going to cover too much of my treatment plan just yet because there are still some things yet to be determined, but I will be getting a bi-lateral mastectomy in late June. A tough decision, but the option that is best for me and one I was able to confidently make after unwavering support from those closest to me. 

It’s frightening to know that my body can produce such a devious outcome. For me, having my body prove what it’s capable of – creating and fostering cancer – is the absolute scariest part of this whole situation. But you know what it’s also going to prove? How hard it can fight.

Closing Disclaimer: These are my thoughts and my experiences, I am not trying to generalize what it is like to go through cancer in any way. It’s such a personal journey and I can sometimes write in a way that makes it sound like I’m applying words to broad groups of people.  

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In Gratitude...
Thank you to EVERYONE who has reached out or shared well wishes for me with Joel. I don’t feel worthy of the love I’ve received, but it has made this whole situation a lot easier to deal with, knowing that if I/we were to need ANYTHING, we have a whole network of family and friends to rely on. 

In the coming weeks, I hope to feel up to sharing more of what it's like to navigate a breast cancer diagnosis and treatment - the good, bad, and ugly. Including good ways to support someone going through a serious illness. The thoughtfulness extended to me thus far has been humbling and given me many ideas on how I can better be there for others.