Two days after the election, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. No lump. No family history. Clear mammograms. There are only two reasons they found my tumor at all. The first was completely by chance: I listened to a podcast. The second is that I decided to advocate for myself.
This is how it started: I’d known my breasts were “extremely dense” since my first mammogram. I thought I was doing everything I was supposed to, including getting 3D/Tomo mammograms annually. But I never knew that my degree of breast density, which 10% of women have, makes it almost impossible to see breast cancer on any of the usual mammograms.
When Amanda Doyle (also one of the 10%) shared her breast cancer story on We Can Do Hard Things (episode 309), this new knowledge stuck with me. No doctor had ever suggested I get an MRI. I’d never asked for an extra test in my life. But at my upcoming physical with a doctor I’d only started seeing recently but really like, I decided to bring up my concerns.
Luckily, she listened, and referred me for a lifetime breast cancer risk assessment. Based on my extreme density and grandfather’s history of colon and metastatic prostate cancer, I qualified for an MRI.
A few weeks later, I got the MRI, and a week after that, a message appeared on MyChart: two sites suspicious of malignancy.
I was supposed to host a Zoom call that night with Heather Cox Richardson and thousands of you. I love these conversations. I genuinely find strength and inspiration in these spaces with you. And I knew MRIs often find false positives.
My head told me I could do it, but my body had a different idea. For the first time since I started Red Wine & Blue, I asked someone else to cover for me. (Thank you, Julie!)
Next came biopsies and the diagnosis: invasive lobular carcinoma, which accounts for about 10% of breast cancers and is known to “hide.” The night of my diagnosis, I DID host a Red Wine & Blue virtual event with my mom and my mother-in-law. The theme, “How to Show Up for Yourself, Your Kids, & Each Other When it’s Hardest” hit home – on multiple levels.
Next up: Oh-so-many appointments with an amazing care team at the Cleveland Clinic led by my surgeon– listener, teacher, and badass Dr. Paula Escobar. Then genetic testing (negative for all cancer genes!), research, more appointments, and the decision about surgery.
We decided on a lumpectomy because the recurrence rates for early-stage lobular breast cancer are the same for mastectomy as they are for lumpectomy plus radiation.
Once my surgery was scheduled (just 19 days after my diagnosis!), my husband and I told our kids. We were clear about what was happening, gave them kid-friendly context about how there are different kinds of cancer, and expressed confidence that their mom had great doctors and would be okay. My nine-year-old understood and asked great questions. My six-year-old hid under a blanket and ran away with his fingers in his ears.
I’m glad we told them the truth. I already see it making them more resilient and empathetic (my six-year-old loves to remind me that I CANNOT lift him post-surgery!). But at a primal parental level, it was gutting.
Surgery couldn’t come fast enough. My pathology report came back quickly too, within a week of surgery, showing that the tumor was completely removed and my lymph nodes are clear. It felt like I could breathe again, and I didn’t even know I’d been holding my breath.
Just weeks after my diagnosis, I was cancer free. And as of meeting with my oncologist yesterday, I have a post-surgical treatment plan to reduce the risk of it recurring anywhere in my body.
I’ll start three weeks of radiation in January, immediately followed by five to seven years of hormone therapy, which will include injections, and oral and IV medications. We’ll see how it all goes, and adjust along the way as needed.
So far, here’s one thing I know: Between my cancer type (lobular, which “hides”), the location of the tumor (back against my chest wall), and my extreme breast density, it’s unlikely that my cancer would have been found for years without an MRI. But because it was found early, my life was never threatened.
Early detection is the whole ballgame.
So here’s a quick guide:
If you are among the 50% of women whose breasts are not dense, you’re good with mammograms.
If you’re among the 40% who have heterogeneously dense tissue, you need a mammogram and secondary screening, like an Automatic Breast Ultrasound (ABUS).
If you’re among the 10% who have extremely dense tissue (like me), you need a mammogram and an MRI, or, newly available at some institutions, a contrast-enhanced mammogram.
This may sound crazy, but since my diagnosis, I’ve asked every woman I talk to about their breast density … and I swear, it’s not even awkward.
Yesterday at the gym, a workout partner asked if there was anything she could do to help. “Yes! Know your breast density,” I said. Like most women, she didn’t know hers offhand, but now she knows she can find it on any mammogram report and what to do if she’s got dense tissue. These conversations not only make me feel better, they make me feel more connected.
I’m only six weeks out from my diagnosis, but I’ve shared my story with dozens of friends and colleagues – and now with you – because I’m more convinced than ever that women talking to women is how we save ourselves, each other, and the whole damn world.
I am grateful to Amanda Doyle for helping me save my own life. I’m grateful to my incredible care team, my family, friends, and the Red Wine & Blue team for supporting me every step of the way. And I am grateful to you, the Red Wine & Blue community, for the way I know you will help carry this conversation into your own networks – with love, with strength, with curiosity.
We have so much work to do over the next four years. Now my list has one new thing – helping pass the Find It Early Act, which will require insurance to cover all secondary screenings, with no cost sharing. We can do hard things – if we do them together.
with love,
Katie
Thank you for this. I wish my sister had known a long time ago. If so, she might still be with me this holiday season. Not a woman, but I do tell my followers to please do themselves a favour and make sure they get a mammogram if they have dense breast tissue. Good luck with your recovery and I hope you stay cancer free the next five years. Then you will be considered cured.
Great PSA and I’m so glad you are ok!
If you’re curious about how you got to have a choice to have a lumpectomy instead of a brutal disfiguring radical mastectomy, listen to my podcast! More women should know about the man who fought for their bodily autonomy in breast cancer treatment!