Nine years ago today, my life and that of my family’s changed forever.

This was the day that I had the Mammogram That Saved My Life.

I had no symptoms or lumps that I could feel when I went in for my annual scan, six months late. I did have a fleeting sense that I could feel something off deep in my chest when I was sleeping on my stomach. That was it. 

When the radiologist came into the room to ask me if I had any recent trauma to my right breast, I knew I was in trouble. No. No recent trauma. Was I sure? Of course I was sure. He wouldn’t let me leave the office before scheduling a biopsy, as soon as possible. 

That day started more than two years of aggressive treatment for Stage 2 breast cancer, which included six months of chemotherapy and 10 surgeries, followed by five years of medications which, at times, were harder to navigate than the chemo. I will share—and not for sympathy, but to elicit empathy for those you may know going through this—that every part of treatment involved pain of some kind. (This was when I finally understood why patients and survivors with breast cancer—and many other cancers—are often called warriors.) I was 48 at the time, about 15 years younger than the national average age for breast cancer patients.

I’ve said this before: Cancer is not a “me” disease. It’s a family disease, and my family and close friends were impacted sometimes in worse ways than I was. I always had the next appointment, the next chemo, the next surgery to do. They were left watching me, helpless to do much more than love me through a rough patch. The constant fear for my life, the physical and emotional changes I was going through, too often wore down their capacity to fully live. Cancer is exhausting, for everyone involved.

Surviving, and thriving, was worth all of the pain and hardship that came with overcoming cancer. I’ve had nine amazing years to learn, live and love. I’m finishing up my graduate degree. I got to watch my daughter marry an amazing man I now get to call my son. My husband has retired and has time to do so much more with me. My mother, after the death of my Pop, moved in with us, and we are honored to be able to help care for her. My siblings, cousins, nieces, nephews, aunts and uncles are all still here and thriving as well. My work is stable and fulfilling. I have incredible friends who welcome me into their lives and who love being in ours. I still make quilts and have added crochet to my long list of projects. My life is good and rich, and I take not one moment for granted.

I am lucky. Very lucky. 

During these nine years, I have lost three friends to breast cancer. Three women, all from Simi Valley, were my age or a little younger than me and had young children still at home. Their strong wills to live were mocked by a disease that can strip us of everything that defines us. 

Some cancers and their treatments are more subtle, less visible to the public. Not breast cancer. From the ravages of surgery to the battles with chemotherapy and radiation, our bodies go through war, and it is extremely difficult to be completely private about it. I never tried. I figured that the best thing I could do for me and my family was to be open and share my journey, because it might help others who are experiencing breast cancer, or who are supporting a loved one with breast cancer. The support and love we received was immeasurable and I will always be humbled and grateful for how beautiful people were to us. 

So, nine years later I try to pay it forward, and support breast cancer fundraising and education wherever possible. I’ve watched the stats show that more people are surviving this disease, but that it’s hitting younger and younger women, which I can see firsthand. I was so lucky to have the most common type of breast cancer. Eighty percent of patients have hormone positive HER2 negative breast cancer, and when caught in the early stages, it is very treatable. My oncologist considers me cured, not in remission. But the other forms can be brutal and sometimes treatments are limited. And when breast cancer metastasizes to other organs, trouble comes fast. 

When we hit October, you will see me proudly flashing my pink. I often share local breast cancer concerns and efforts I support, such as the Nancy Reagan Breast Center, where I was diagnosed with my disease, and which then provided some of the medical services needed to treat my cancer. All of my treatment and initial surgeries happened through Adventist Health Simi Valley, and my care there was amazing, from my doctors, nurses, techs and lab peeps, to the swift scheduling and thorough in-patient services. My case went from simple to complicated unexpectedly, but my doctors were on top of everything, doing all they could to make sure I was cared for. I could not have asked for better care. 

If you have a loved one going through breast cancer, please step up and do what you can to support her or him (yes, men also get breast cancer, but in much smaller numbers). One in eight American women will be diagnosed with breast cancer in her lifetime. Ninety to 95 percent of breast cancer patients do not have a genetic factor involved. While good nutrition, reduced stress, exercise and common sense living all help to support our immune systems and makes us less vulnerable to all disease, there is no magic formula to prevent breast cancer. Early detection is ESSENTIAL! Don’t put off those mammograms and ultrasounds, ladies!! They can be the difference between having a treatable condition and little hope. If something doesn’t feel right, keep pushing your medical providers until all questions are answered!

I am always available to answer questions. If my experience, strength and hope will help, I am happy to share. In my ideal world, all women have access to the level of care I was blessed to receive, and all women have a tribe to support them through this experience. This is as it should be.