This blog post is with the permission of a brave woman that is determined to share her story in order to help save another woman's life. Please, please, please pass this story on to every woman that you know!
I am 37 years old and I have breast cancer. I found out on Friday the 13th of April, 2012. I have hesitated to tell anyone because I felt it was personal, none of anybody’s business, and frankly a bit embarrassing. My original plan was to disappear for a couple of months, have my surgery, take my treatments, and return to life as usual. I have now realized that what I have to say could impact anyone that is willing to listen. My story is more than a diagnosis.
Over a year ago, I was in the shower one morning and discovered a lump in my left breast that was about the size of a small marble and just as hard as one. I made a mental note to point it out to my OB/GYN at my upcoming yearly exam. When I showed it to her, she dismissed it as fibrocystic breast tissue, a benign condition that many young women have. No mammogram was ordered. No biopsy was performed. I was told not to worry about it and come back in a year. I didn’t worry about it until I noticed a couple of months ago that it seemed to be getting bigger. I returned for my next yearly exam on April 9, 2012, the day after Easter. My appointment this year happened to be with a different doctor in the same medical complex. I told her what happened last year and that the lump appeared to be getting bigger. By this time, it was about the size of a large, slightly flattened gumball. She said there was still no cause for concern, but to make me feel better, she would order a breast ultrasound to put my mind at ease. The results of the ultrasound led to a mammogram, which led to me being told I need to consult the surgeon of my choice because, regardless of what it turned out to be, it had to come out.
By Friday the 13th, when I went to see my surgeon, I had done enough research and seen enough photos of “normal” and “abnormal” cysts on the Internet to know that what I was seeing on the X-rays and ultrasound pictures was not fibrocystic breast tissue. The doctor said the ultrasound and mammogram indicated a malignancy and that I should have a biopsy immediately for confirmation. My only thought at that time was that this thing had been growing in me for over a year and had likely spread to other areas. My God-given women’s intuition had taken a backseat to a doctor who couldn’t be bothered to write an order for further testing. Two biopsies, an MRI, and five doctor’s appointments later, I consider myself to be one of the lucky ones. My tumor is a slow-growing variety that is fed by estrogen. After it is removed, I will likely get mild chemotherapy and daily radiation treatments for about seven weeks. There are drugs I can be given to block the flow of estrogen and (hopefully) inhibit any future recurrences. As of now, I have been told I will be able to keep my breasts AND my hair, but it is highly unlikely I will be able to have any more children.
After being told by a doctor that women my age just don’t get breast cancer, I began to focus all my negative energy into researching this phenomenon and try to formulate some type of theory as to why there’s a sudden epidemic of young, healthy women getting breast cancer. While reading one of the articles I found online, I saw something that popped off the monitor and caught my attention. On July 29, 2005, the World Health Organization issued a press release declaring oral contraceptives to be a Group 1 human carcinogen. They officially ranked the estrogen-progestogen combination, known simply as “The Pill” into the same carcinogenic grouping as radium, tobacco, and asbestos. This happened almost seven years ago, and I heard about it for the first time AFTER my cancer diagnosis and only because I took the time to do the research on my own. (Ironically, the treatments I need to heal me, Tamoxifen, an estrogen-blocking drug, and radiation also rank in this category. So my “cure” may cause another type of cancer.) Also, the website for the American Cancer Society now lists the use of hormonal contraceptives as a risk factor to breast cancer.
I’m furious at the pharmaceutical companies who keep marketing birth control pills, patches, and shots, declaring they cure everything from cramps to acne. I’m furious that my doctors never informed me of the risks of long-term use of the products they prescribed. I’m furious at women’s health organizations such as Susan G. Komen who take our money in the name of research, then funnel it into organizations such as Planned Parenthood, who hand out contraceptive pills to young women without informing them of the risks; thereby feeding the beast we’re trying to slay. I’m furious at our legislators, of BOTH parties, who are too busy arguing over whether or not contraception should be taxpayer-funded to notice that we are getting sick and dying from it. I’m furious because my health has become a political pawn.
When asked if I had been given this information years ago, would it have changed my behavior, my answer is this: I made the decision to limit my alcohol intake. I made the decision to not smoke. I made the decision to wear seatbelts. Why WOULDN’T I have made the same informed decision about contraceptives if given the opportunity? I’m not the type to try to persuade anyone to change his or her habits or beliefs. I have about as much chance of changing a woman’s mind about contraception as I have convincing a smoker to quit smoking. But I would be remiss in my duty as a woman not to make this information available to as many other women as possible. There’s no guarantee this is what caused my cancer, but the evidence definitely seems to be pointing in that direction.
I have a treatable form of cancer. I consider myself to be a very lucky woman. Think of the women in your life—your sister, your wife, your girlfriend, your cousin, your best friend, YOU—they might not be as lucky as I am. They are the reason I’m sharing my story. It doesn’t change who I am. Cancer has not made me stronger or more courageous than I was a month ago. I simply get up in the morning, put on my big girl panties, and face this with the same tenacity as any other roadblock life throws at me. Then I remind myself once again that cancer picked the wrong woman to mess with this time.
Sherry, Future Breast Cancer Survivor
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