Surviving Breast Cancer and Learning to Embrace My Body Post-Mastectomy

Breast cancer is often thought of as primarily affecting middle-aged women and, I have to admit, I assumed the same. Approximately 5% of women diagnosed with breast cancer, however, are actually under the age of 30… and, unfortunately, I became one of them.

For three years, I kept my battle with breast cancer somewhat private — I genuinely believed it wasn't significant enough to warrant sharing. It wasn't until I crossed paths with a remarkable group of young women that my perspective changed. 

They stressed that it didn't matter what stage I was, the extent of my treatment, or even the absence of it. I’m young and I have breast cancer; every day, this is my reality. 

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I now believe the more I share my story, discuss my experience, and help educate women my age, better are the chances I can help others identify potential issues and make it through. 

Sharing my personal experience, wherever and whenever I can, can make a huge difference. That includes highlighting warning signs, providing tips on how to do self-examinations, and inspiring others to become advocates of their health.

Regardless of how many times a doctor may dismiss our worries with empty assurances, we must advocate for ourselves and refuse to accept dismissive answers. 

That's why I'm here — not to seek sympathy or attention for my own situation — but to be bold and brutally honest, hoping to help as many people as I possibly can.

Becoming Accustomed to My Ever-Changing Body

Over the past five years, I've undergone multiple lumpectomies — and now I’ve reached the unfortunate stage where I need a double mastectomy. 

While the lumpectomies were certainly unpleasant, I had almost gotten used to them. I had learned to manage the pain and even found helpful products, which made a world of difference as my breasts recovered. But now, I’m facing a much more difficult challenge. 

The mere thought of having my breasts surgically removed is terrifying, but somehow the idea of losing my nipples is even more daunting. I’m not sure whether it’s the physical pain and recovery that frightens me most or the concept of permanently altering my femininity. 

Surgery no longer scares me — I've become accustomed to it. What comes afterwards, both the healing process and living my life with a different body, is extremely difficult to wrap my head around. 

Finding Inner Strength

I have a family history of breast cancer, so at a young age I was tested for certain genes linked to high occurrences of breast cancer. I was positive, which led to me and my doctors to be careful about monitoring my breasts for lumps.

If you have a family history of breast cancer, I highly recommend getting your genes tested. When I began getting lumps, I knew what the end result could be. 

Still, I was angry and scared when my doctor finally said the fateful words: “Let’s do your double mastectomy.” How could I be a 30-year-old woman without breasts? How could this happen to me? 

I realized then I hadn’t really believed it would come to this. It shook my world, and for a while, I could barely keep myself from screaming.

But with time comes more perspective, and even a few weeks helped me start to accept that this was the right choice. I’m not alone in this, I reminded myself. 

People like my grandmother, aunt, and friend have all gone through what I will go through. If they could do it, so can I.

If my grandmother could overcome cancer multiple times with unwavering strength, survive 10 years after being told she had three months to live, and still stand here today as strong as can be, then I can make it through, too. I’m a survivor, bred and born. 

Starting a New Chapter

Unlike a Disney movie, the reality is this story can’t simply end on that uplifting note. 

I won't sugar coat it; the fear remains, and this process is far from pleasant. I can't say I wish I had done it sooner, and I certainly can't claim to be happy about it because, truthfully, it sucks big time. 

What I am looking forward to, however, is closing this chapter of my life. I’m excited for reduced worries — not just for myself, but for my loved ones as well. I’m excited to put an end to my breast pain. 

Instead of frequent breast appointments, I hope to have them just once a year. Maybe then, once everything is behind me, I can find a greater sense of happiness and live a more stress-free, in-the-moment life.

Finally, no matter your age, I want to highlight the importance of getting familiar with breast cancer symptoms, doing self-exams, and communicating concerns with your doctor, which can potentially lead to early detection and make a world of a difference in terms of long term outcome. 

Like me, it could even save your life. Just taking the time to read my story could help you or someone you love — I hope it does. 

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Dedicated to my grandma, Joan Hart — the strongest woman I know.