A little heads-up: if you’re squeamish, this blog may not be for you. I’m keeping my breast cancer story honest, including the surgeries, drains, and reconstruction. There is also humor, gratitude, and plenty of life on the other side.

Most stories on my real estate website are about homes and helping people through life’s transitions. This October, during Breast Cancer Awareness Month, I’m sharing a transition I never expected.

Since turning 40, I had never missed my annual mammogram and ultrasound. In 2023, my mammogram showed suspicious findings in both breasts. The ultrasound looked normal, but a biopsy was recommended. That experience gets zero stars. Would not voluntarily book again.

A week later, my phone rang while I was driving on Interstate 95. “I regret to let you know that the biopsy is cancerous,” the caller said. “Am I going to die?” I asked. The answer was, “I don’t know.” Absolutely not the three words I needed to hear.

I had never smoked, occasionally enjoyed a glass of wine or a cocktail or two, and kept every screening appointment. I thought I had been doing everything right, which made the diagnosis harder to comprehend. Panicked, I called my husband, daughter, and mom while still driving. Please, before delivering life changing news over the phone, ask whether the person can safely talk. That moment has stayed with me.

Once home, I spoke with an amazing patient advocate who explained that my diagnosis was stage 0 DCIS, or ductal carcinoma in situ. Understanding what was happening gave me room to breathe. Then came the surgeon, tears, and approximately one million questions. Nobody was putting me down for a quick appointment.

After tracker placement and a lumpectomy, I learned that the margins were clear, but the cancer had extended beyond the duct. A tumor board recommended surgery to check my sentinel lymph nodes. The plan also included radiation and screening every 3 to 6 months for 5 years. Knowing how difficult repeated waiting would be for my anxiety, I researched my options and chose a double mastectomy. It was a personal decision that gave me peace of mind.

Preparing meant buying a car pillow and a mesh holder for my drains, moving dishes within easy reach, and gathering button down tops. The surgery lasted about 6 hours, included placement of tissue expanders, and required 1 night in the hospital. I was exhausted but had surprisingly little pain. Three days later, I was walking outside. Cording caused discomfort but resolved after one physical therapy visit.

My lymph nodes were clear, although additional DCIS was found in both breasts. My medical team determined that neither radiation nor chemotherapy was needed, and I no longer needed the routine breast screening that had been part of my earlier plan. Finally, I could exhale.

The drains came out after 5 days, followed by about a month of weekly appointments to fill the expanders. Not fun. I requested lidocaine and waited for the numbing before each procedure. Reconstruction came next: about 4 hours of outpatient surgery, including fat transfer. I went home with additional incisions and a tight compression garment, but no drains. The hardest part for me was sleeping on my back for 6 weeks.

My oncologist prescribed tamoxifen, which I took for many months until nighttime muscle cramps began keeping me from sleeping. After reviewing my individual risk, my oncologist decided that my risk of recurrence was so small that continuing the medication wasn’t worth the loss of sleep, and I stopped it under her guidance. After everything, a good night’s sleep felt like a gift.

Then the implants shifted downward, requiring another surgery to place supportive mesh. Thankfully, that recovery was quick, although it meant another 6 weeks of sleeping on my back. The whole process required patience, and some days I simply wanted to be finished.

Through it all, I kept working. I even showed a home with drains, my least favorite showing accessories, and negotiated one of my most difficult transactions within a week after my mastectomy. Apparently, my negotiating skills missed the recovery memo. Work helped me feel useful, energized, and like myself. Everyone heals differently, but staying connected helped me.

To my real estate community, my clients, and those who have become dear friends, thank you for keeping me busy. Your conversations, challenges, and laughter gave me something to focus on beyond cancer. You may not have known how much that meant.

October now reminds me of those who paved the way for today’s care, those still in treatment, and those whose lives were lost. Their stories matter. Research must continue, and everyone deserves compassionate care. Please make room for your health. Keep up with your recommended screenings, follow through, and ask questions. Apparently, there is no limit. I tested it.

Behind every home and transaction are people with lives far bigger than the paperwork. This is a little of mine. Today, I’m here with the people I love, doing work that brings me joy, and telling my story. I will never take that for granted.