The safest thing to do was get rid of the second breast. I just want to give myself the best chance possible to live.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
I have experienced firsthand the tremendous impact breast cancer has on the women who fight it and the loved ones who support them. This is a disease that catches you unaware and, without the right resources, leaves you feeling frightened and alone.
I had breast cancer. Yeah, I know it's scary.
I have had some cosmetic surgery, especially after I lost weight and stuff, and I've had my breasts lifted - but not injected. That would scare me to death, anyway.
For years I heeded the warning: Do monthly breast self-exams. Like most women, I did them on a 'sort of' basis. Every few months I'd sort of do a quick feel, but never as thoroughly as the doctors urged. I didn't want to go looking for trouble. If you look for it, you might find it. Looking for cancer is unsettling. Thank God I looked.
I had a breast reduction.
I had been afraid of breast cancer, as I suspect most women are, from the time I hit adolescence. At that age, when our emerging sexuality is our central preoccupation, the idea of disfigurement of a breast is particularly horrifying.
I'm not about my breasts; I'm just about good health, OK. I'm not afraid of doing what I need to do to stay here. I really don't understand women who are in denial, who don't want to go for a mammogram. I think it's stupidity. Sorry. I have no patience for that.
Well, right now, technically, I have no breast cancer.
I'm happy to tell you that having been through surgery and chemotherapy and radiation, breast cancer is officially behind me. I feel absolutely great and I am raring to go.
I've had the same breasts for my entire adult life.