Did I eat too much sugar? Have we been exposed to too much plastic? People are quick to tell us their theories, like being on birth control or keeping your phone in your bra. Everyone around me is trying to understand how something like this could happen to someone my age. Because if it can happen to me, it can happen to them too.
When my family and I asked the doctor, he said it was just bad luck. Life is random. Perhaps there was nothing I could do, and maybe I never could. But that doesn’t make me, or other young people increasingly finding themselves in this situation, any less anxious.
2022 only 4 percent A higher proportion of those diagnosed with invasive breast cancer were in U.S. women younger than 40 years. However, recent research shows that more young people are suffering from cancer, including breast cancer.
For young patients like me, it’s difficult to understand that everything is random.
Find and diagnose a lump
It was June 2023 when I first noticed a large lump on my breast while taking a shower. At first I left it alone, but since it wasn’t getting better, I told my doctor that I was worried. She wrote me a prescription for an ultrasound, but I had to wait three months to get her appointment in Washington, DC.
I had heard that benign cysts are more common in young women, and right after the ultrasound, I was scheduled for a biopsy. Imaging studies showed an abnormal mass and further testing was required. I was worried, so I asked her mother to fly in from Phoenix to join me.
When I entered the exam room on Tuesday, I saw my papers. It read, “Before diagnosis: Cancer.”
A few days later, my doctor called and his initial diagnosis was: “High-grade invasive ductal carcinoma. This is a fast-growing cancer.” more likely to spread. The lump was about 5 cm. It was stage 2.
The long time it takes between finding a mass, getting an ultrasound, and making a diagnosis is just one reason young cancer patients are often not taken seriously. I’ve heard stories of women whose doctors didn’t order a mammogram because they were considered too young. Patients with colon cancer may be diagnosed with hemorrhoids instead of cancer.
Making decisions about infertility treatment
My family and I decided to move to Arizona for treatment. At the new hospital, I was able to learn more about my diagnosis, including that I have triple-positive breast cancer, which responds well to chemotherapy and targeted therapies. I also learned that you may be able to save your hair using a technique called cold capping.
I felt the most pressure with the decision not to have my eggs retrieved because my treatment would affect my fertility. I quickly realized that wasn’t what I wanted. I didn’t want to undergo any more intrusive medical procedures and having biological children was never important to me. My doctors and family wanted me to fully understand the weight of my decision and give me multiple chances to change my mind, but I didn’t.
I also decided to protect my hair. This treatment requires a special freezing cap to be worn tightly on the head, like a swimming cap, before, during, and after chemotherapy. Many people warned me that the cold cap would be painful, but once I got past his first 10 minutes, it didn’t feel that bad. It was like going in the snow without a beanie on. Although it was inconvenient during chemotherapy, it was worth it to maintain a sense of normalcy. I lost the most hair after my last treatment, but my doctors still compliment me on how much hair I’ve been able to maintain.
Find solace in a club that’s “still alive”
I am grateful to go to a hospital that has a young adult program for patients like me. When I underwent surgery to have a port implanted in my chest to facilitate the infusion of chemotherapy, the young adult nurse saw that I was upset. She showed me around the empty chemotherapy ward so I could see what would happen before her first treatment.
After I received a complete treatment plan, she also referred me to a support group. We meet once a month to report on our progress. Some, like me, were recently diagnosed or rediagnosed, and some have reached the 5-year remission milestone. When I joined, the group made me feel less alone. They all knew I was where I was.
In group meetings, we shared frustrating stories like collapsed veins and central line placement, and encouraged helpful doctors and early discharges. Talk about playing Pokemon or the Sims to distract yourself. We follow each other on Instagram.
We laugh and try to be light-hearted as we color the Thanksgiving turkey on the table, decorate gingerbread houses, and make vision boards. Group members joke about being part of the “still alive” club and that it is by no means “cancer-free” but “cancer-quiet.” This means that while we continue to undergo ongoing testing, our lives will never be completely cancer-free. and lingering symptoms. However, we can live a relatively quiet life even with cancer.
We all experience unique battles that remind us how unfair our situation is. We were “unlucky”. But instead of asking, “Why me?” we pity that it is us. There is a common understanding that none of us want or should be there, but we are there.
After six rounds of chemotherapy and surgery, my journey is far from over. I’m worried about it happening again. Taken out of work, separated from their lives in Washington, D.C., they wonder where they’ll end up at the end of all this. Friends with cancer fighting their own battles, and other young people trying to understand why. I’m worried about this happening to them.
I remember the first time I had an MRI scan. This test determines whether the cancer has spread to other places. The lady at the front desk asked for her date of birth to print a wristband.
“We have the same birthday,” she said. Month, day, year, everything.
I laughed it off at first, but that moment stuck with me. We were on the other side of the counter.
