“I’m sorry to tell you, but I’m 95% confident you have breast cancer.”

“I’m sorry to tell you, but I’m 95% confident you have breast cancer.” The radiologist delivered the news during a follow-up ultrasound after an abnormal mammogram this past April. A week later the pathology lab results would confirm his suspicions.

“You have breast cancer.” They are words that every woman fears hearing. And they are words that 1 in 8 women will hear in their lifetime.

I was shocked. I felt blindsided. I didn’t have any symptoms--lumps or otherwise. I’ve had a mammogram every year since turning 40. Last year’s mammogram was normal. The only family history I have is a cousin who is just a few years older than me and who was diagnosed almost exactly one year before me.

In the days and weeks that followed my initial diagnosis, I didn’t want to talk about it. I even regretted telling the small group of people that I did. Friends and family members were texting and calling to check-in and get updates. I genuinely appreciated their care, concern and support. But I couldn’t answer the calls or return the texts. So much was unknown—the type of cancer, the size of the tumors, what treatment would look like, when surgery would be, and whether it would be a lumpectomy or a mastectomy…and even now some of those questions are still unanswered.

Responding individually to family and friends felt daunting and exhausting. With each conversation, text or email I was reminded of news I didn’t want to accept. For my own mental health, I nurtured my introverted self by limiting social interactions, doing home projects, and spending time on the river.

Now, almost two months into this new chapter of my life, I feel ready to talk more openly about my health status. One of my sister’s friends created a Caring Bridge site during what she called her “cancer quest.” It seemed like a good way to keep loved ones updated and informed. Plus, regular journaling has been a habit I’ve wanted to adopt for quite some time…just like I’ve wanted to eat better and exercise more. Cancer has a way of kicking you into gear and turning aspirations into action. I’ve decided that if I must have cancer then I’m bound and determined to find the silver linings and emerge as a better and stronger version of myself as I navigate through surgery, treatment, and recovery.

I also decided I wanted to share my experience in case it can help others, whether that is through general education and awareness about breast cancer, support for others who may also be on this journey, or as motivation for other women to get that mammogram scheduled.

Essentially, I’m sharing this site as both a form of self-care and to keep folks updated. Many people have asked what I need…all I need currently are your positive thoughts, well-wishes, prayers, and overall good vibes. What I do not need is a Go Fund Me, Meal Train, or donations of any sort. 

I’ll share more specifics about my diagnosis and the next steps regarding surgery and treatment in later posts. For now, know that I am feeling well supported by my immediate family (mom and siblings) as well as my partner Dory, extended family, friends, work colleagues, and an exceptional health care team.

My friend, Sydne, who is a nurse practitioner said, “Cry your tears and then tape your hands and get the boxing gloves on. It’s time to fight!” So that’s exactly what I’m doing!

Thanks for reading, thanks for your support, and thanks for your friendship.

Onward and upward we go!

-Keri

P.S. The photo with this post is from a recent river trip with friends (and dogs) on the Bull River. Beautiful country! Cancer isn't about to keep me off the river!