It was July 11th, 2023. I was having a biopsy taken for something that looked highly suspicious on my left breast. Something that we all knew was cancer. The doctor performing the procedure asked where I was planning to do treatment. Even before we received the results. Everyone was certain. Even me.
When I received the dreaded call the previous month that something was found on my routine mammogram, I knew. Leading to my appointment in New York City, there were so many signs. Everywhere I went, I parked my car behind or next to a car with an “end breast cancer” license plate or something like it. On that Tuesday in July (also my mother’s birthday), when we were in my parents’ car and we turned on East 61st, I knew. We passed by my friend’s old apartment. She was one of the first women I knew to be diagnosed about 20 years before. It was more than a sign.
In 2006 I asked my gynecologist if I should get a mammogram as two dear friends had just been diagnosed with breast cancer. She said no. She did mention fibroid issues being very likely for me and not breast cancer. She did not realize that my mother, her mother, and my 1st cousin on the maternal side would all have partial hysterectomies under the age of 45 for that reason. As for my friends with breast cancer diagnoses, they were very much like me – Ashkenazi Jewish descent, dancers, overachievers with perfectionist tendencies, trying any means necessary to not nourish ourselves. That seed of intuition was planted.
And finally, years later, the manifestation of this fear and knowing came to fruition. A few months before the diagnosis, I had gotten horribly sick. What at first seemed like a urinary tract infection proved itself to be far worse and likely shingles. I had never felt so awful in my entire life. Following the antibiotics and antiviral medication, I slowly started returning to my normal life of working, hot yoga, swimming, and volunteer work. But something just felt off. My overall energy level, which had been quite high allowing me to spend 3 hours doing hot yoga in one day, had dissipated. I recall taking 3-hour naps during the weekend and then on a particular Wednesday having to spend a lot of the day in bed resting. Being a former dancer and yogini, I became incredibly attuned and really listened to my body.
While on the table of my radiologist’s office in NYC, I was crying. How could this have happened to me? The doctor was like – we really don’t know. Through my tears, I expressed that I did not drink at all, didn’t smoke, no drug use, was vegan for years, and practiced hot yoga almost daily. The Western medical world couldn’t provide satisfactory answers. My oncologist said it could be genetics and/or environmental factors. The radiation oncologist’s response was along those lines. My surgeon said, “two reasons: obesity and alcohol.” None of these responses really sat well with me. I am grateful for the expertise of each of these physicians. But none of them asked me, what was going on in your life before this time? What could have caused the seemingly healthy body of a woman taking great care of herself to go south? Could we maybe investigate the root cause of this illness to better treat you and help to prevent such a diagnosis for those who are like you?
This yearning and not being satisfied with the standard scripted answers of HCPs that sounded like Charlie Brown’s teacher led me to do a lot of soul searching, questioning, pondering, and research. Prior to my body waving a lot of red flags, so much in my world fell apart. I was living in Los Angeles, California back in 2019 when my employer of years suddenly went bankrupt. There went my six-figure salary. There was no severance. It took months to find a role which did not last very long. It was in early 2020 when I decided that I would follow my bliss and focus on yoga. Then, everything shut down on March 16th, 2020. As I desperately needed a job and health insurance, I started working at an Amazon warehouse overnight. The man I was “seeing” refused to see me for at least 3 months because of fear of COVID. My neighborhood became increasingly more dangerous, and I did not feel safe. Despite being on birth control pills, I woke up in the middle of the night drenched from horrible night sweats. In early April 2021, I moved to Florida as the place that I once loved so much was no longer hospitable for me. About 6 weeks after I moved, my beloved kitty died.
I share this deeply personal information as I believe that there is an interconnectedness in everything. There is no way that one person can walk through an inferno and expect not to get burned or inhale a bit of smoke. The subsequent diagnosis and experience sparked major introspection, compassion, and a quest for some semblance of the truth. And here we are today. I hope that you can join me as I share what I have learned and maybe we can find answers and hope together.
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