My 14 week old rescue dog from Arkansas had been with me for 3 weeks when he decided to start poking his muzzle into my left breast. After the third or fourth time, it hurt and I grabbed my breast. I immediately felt a large lump and knew it was bad. I had my first mammogram the next day, December 23, 2014, at 33 years old. My mammography was quiet and professional while I made awkward jokes, knowing in my gut I had cancer. I was quickly shuffled off for an MRI and when I arrived, the machine was down. I begged for a biopsy to confirm what I already knew. On January 2, 2015, I was diagnosed with Stage 2B triple negative breast cancer, a rare and difficult to treat form of the disease that disproportionately effects young women, African American women and women of Ashkenazi Jewish descent.
I immediately opted to have a bilateral mastectomy. My kids were just 5 and 3 at the time and the decision was easy. I had used my breasts to nourish my babies and if they were going to try and kill me, I would simply cut them off. In March I began eight rounds of dose dense chemotherapy followed by 33 radiation treatments. After I healed from the burns I underwent reconstructive surgery to try and feel normal again. Several months later my reconstruction failed and I was rushed to the hospital with a severe infection. I was immediately taken into surgery to have the left implant removed and spent several days in the hospital on IV antibiotics. Nine months later after insurance denials and a surgeon who just wouldn’t quit, I was finally able to have the other implant removed.
When I was finally declared No Evidence of Disease on August 7, 2015, I thought it would be one of the greatest days of my life. I rang a bell signaling the end of treatment, friends came to clap for me, they cried, my children came and ate cupcakes excitedly hoping their mom was back.
Unfortunately I was left feeling psychologically broken, powerless, and terrified that every day was my last.
Then I found powerlifting, quite by accident. I walked into a local gym and with the help of a coach, with my bald head and angry disposition, I squatted and deadlifted a lot of weight.
I’ve now been training and competing for two years under the direction of my mentor and friend, Devon Carroll. I hold several New England records for my squat and my anger has turned to joy. Cancer used to be the first thing I thought of when I woke up and the last thing I thought of when I fell asleep.
I am three years cancer free and I wouldn’t change a thing about my life. I’m incredibly lucky to have been given the perspective I have and to be surrounded by the best support system a girl could ask for.
#fightlikeagirl
Hair & Makeup by Max Charles Salon
That is AMAZING. This is better than lemonade from lemons.
Thank you for sharing your story, your beauty and your strength! You will help so many!
Love, love, love your attitude and journey!