Breast Cancer: 4 Messages to My Newly Diagnosed Self

It’s Breast Cancer Awareness Month. For me, that means next month marks the second anniversary of being diagnosed with early-stage breast cancer, which led to an outpatient lumpectomy at Sylvester Comprehensive Cancer Center, part of the University of Miami Miller School of Medicine.

Those early days after diagnosis were a roller coaster of confusion, uncertainty, fear and other emotions. Looking back, there are a few things I wish I’d believed — really believed, deep inside, where they could truly affect me.

There are many thriving, long-time breast cancer survivors.

I was diagnosed with the most common type of breast cancer: stage 1 invasive ductal carcinoma, estrogen-receptor positive, progesterone-receptor positive, HER2-negative (yes, it’s a mouthful!). Intellectually, I was kind of aware that there are more than 4.3 million breast cancer survivors in the U.S. I even knew of at least one friend and at least one family member who were survivors.

Turns out, there were many more breast cancer survivors in my life. This really struck me when I told my Tai Chi instructor and classmates that I wouldn’t be in class during the next couple of months after I had my lumpectomy (medically known as a “partial mastectomy”).

One of the other women in the class told me she’d had the same diagnosis and surgery more than a decade prior. Seeing her actively living her life gave me the confidence that I’d be doing the same.

You get to choose who you tell about your cancer — and when you tell them.

I’m not typically super-private about my health, and didn’t pretend that nothing was happening. I immediately broke the news about my breast cancer diagnosis to my husband, my sister, my dad and a few very close friends. I also encouraged my husband to tell his family and friends so that he could lean on them for support.

But I didn’t want to tell everyone in my life right away. I waited until I had my diagnosis confirmed and surgery planned before telling some people. Others, I told after my surgery and pathology, when I could share that I had “clean” cancer-free lymph nodes and would need only radiation and tamoxifen as follow-up treatment. Honestly, I waited because I just didn’t want to deal with a lot of questions before I had more answers. I also wanted to try to avoid my thoughts and conversations being dominated by talk of cancer.

Since then, I’ve never hesitated to talk about being a cancer survivor. That’s my choice. If you’ve been diagnosed with cancer, who you tell, and how, is your choice, too. But at least tell a few people, because you’re going to need help and support.

You have new obligations, and you can back out of pre-cancer commitments.

A diagnosis of serious illness changes your life in a flash. Suddenly, you have no choice but to prioritize your health. It’s OK to back out of things you’d agreed to earlier. I canceled social plans, asked for more time on a business project and generally stepped back from other demands for my time and attention. This gave me space for rest, for endless medical appointments and for a little control in a situation that otherwise felt out of control.

When this happened, nobody made me feel guilty. In many cases, when people asked what was going on, I chose to tell them. They were supportive of my prioritizing my health. Several shared stories of their own health journeys. If you’re torn about backing out of commitments, remind yourself: Protecting your time is part of protecting your health.

Yes, you’re now a cancer survivor — but you’re still you.

You’re a breast cancer survivor from the point of diagnosis through the rest of your life. In the beginning, I worried it might become my whole identity. I looked down at my breast and tried not to feel like my body had betrayed me. I wondered if, after surgery, radiation and tamoxifen, I’d ever feel like myself again.

I’m not going to pretend that breast cancer doesn’t radically change some women. But I’ve come to realize that at my core, I’m still very much the same “me.” In fact, research shows that most women can return to a version of themselves they recognize. Yes, it took leaning on family, friends, my therapist, a social worker and my doctors to get there. So, lean on the people you need and know that, no matter where you are on your breast cancer journey, you can get there, too.

Need a little extra help getting through your breast cancer journey? Sylvester patients can reach out to the Cancer Support Services team for a wide range of support.

Rochelle Broder-Singer is a journalist, breast cancer survivor and Sylvester Cancer Center patient. She is currently writing a series of articles about the cancer journey from the patient’s perspective.

Tags: Cancer support resources, Emotional resilience in cancer, Rochelle Broder Singer, Survivorship journey, Sylvester Comprehensive Cancer Center