Posts by rebecca-reynoso

Managing Editor. Former English professor.

YSC Summit 2023: A Recap

Breast cancer doesn’t always look the same for everyone.

It doesn’t just look like someone’s grandma. It doesn’t just look like someone’s mom. It doesn’t just look like someone’s aunt. And it doesn’t just look like someone older.

Sometimes – 5% of the time, to be exact – breast cancer looks like your best friend, your sister, you.

While only 5% of all breast cancer occurs in women in their 20s and 30s, it’s too important of a number to ignore.

What is the YSC summit?

Over the past weekend, I had the privilege of attending the Young Survival Coalition’s national summit, a conference where young women (originally diagnosed before the age of 40) met up to take workshops, find community, and make connections with other young survivors and thrivers who are still in active treatment or who have metastatic (stage 4) breast cancer.

This year’s summit was held in Charlotte, North Carolina from February 17–19, 2023.

There were three days of jam-packed learnings, fun, and inspirational conversations on topics related to breast cancer, like living your best and healthiest life and navigating the difficulties of treatment and recovery, both physically and mentally. But the best part of the YSC summit was getting to be surrounded by other women who’ve gone through breast cancer when they were young.

Photos of AYA breast cancer survivors and thrivers at the 2023 YSC summit

Who attended the YSC summit?

The YSC serves to help young women diagnosed by or before the age of 40, although many attendees were diagnosed on the tail end of that window (or a few years past it) when primarily diagnosed, so there was still a lot of variance in ages at the summit. The youngest breast cancer survivor in attendance was 21 years old, and the oldest (that I spoke to) was in her late 60s.

At the time of writing, I’m a few days shy of turning 29; I found my breast lump when I was 26; and I was officially diagnosed two weeks after turning 27 years old in 2021.

As a note, the YSC is celebrating its 25th anniversary, so some women who were once an AYA (adolescent and young adult) cancer patient may have graduated beyond the AYA distinction since their initial diagnosis – a blessing we all hope to achieve in our lives – but they still qualify as someone who was diagnosed when they were young. For example, If a woman was diagnosed in 1998 and she was 39 years old at that time, she would now be 64 years old (and still eligible to attend the conference).

Attendees from all walks of life relating to breast cancer were welcome to come:

  • Newly diagnosed (I.e. women currently undergoing active treatment)
  • Short-term survivors
  • Long-term survivors
  • Women living with metastatic (Stage 4) breast cancer (i.e. “thrivers”)
  • Co-survivors (e.g. spouses, parents, friends of survivors + thrivers)
  • Medical professionals and researchers

A group photo comprised of women from the Chicagoland chapter of the YSC

What sessions were offered at the YSC summit?

The YSC summit was three days long and consisted of informational, fun, inspirational, physical, and emotional sessions meant to apply to a wide range of issues unique to the AYA community of breast cancer survivors and thrivers. Here’s a short gist of what was offered over the three-day period, but if you’re looking for more information, like names of sessions, presenters, or times, you can view the full schedule of events online.

Friday’s offerings


  • Registration, check-in, badge retrieval
  • A gathering for first-time summit attendees
  • Welcome session from CEO
  • Exhibitor room with booths

Catered to a specific group:

  • A half-day retreat for women with metastatic breast cancer (MBC)
  • Meet-ups for specific communities (e.g. early diagnosis, later diagnosis, those with children, etc.)
  • State and local leader meet-up

Specialty sessions:

  • Genetic testing
  • PTSD and growth after cancer
  • Early menopause (medically-induced)
  • Nutrition
  • Co-survivors + survivorship navigation with your survivor

Fun evening activities:

  • Game night
  • Pajama party

Saturday’s offerings


  • Registration, check-in, badge retrieval
  • Exhibitor room with booths
  • Workout sessions
  • Sex, love, and reproductive health panel
  • The future of breast cancer panel
  • Onsite counseling sessions

Catered to a specific group:

  • Separate listening sessions for Latina, black, and LGBTQ survivors and thrivers
  • Practical matters for MBC thrivers
  • Medical updates for MBC thrivers
  • Journaling for co-survivors

Specialty sessions:

  • Sleep hygiene
  • Breast cancer resources
  • Anxiety reduction
  • Side effect management
  • Physical rehab
  • Fertility after diagnosis
  • Telling your authentic story

Fun evening activities:

  • Co-survivor happy hour
  • Dinner and dance party

Sunday’s offerings


  • Workout sessions
  • Pet therapy
  • “Never Have I Ever”
  • Live podcast “Cancer for Breakfast”

Catered to a specific group:

  • Coping with adversity for MBC thrivers
  • Co-survivor support group

Specialty sessions:

  • Long-term survivorship
  • Parenting after breast cancer
  • Yoga
  • Lymphedema management

No evening sessions as the summit ended at 1 p.m. ET on Sunday.

What attending the YSC summit meant to me, a young survivor

While the initiation to such an exclusive club certainly does suck, it’s phenomenal to know an organization like YSC exists to serve an often overlooked population of women with breast cancer.

I joined the YSC as a member to find community among my peers who had breast cancer, too, and I’ve been able to find a wonderful group of women who know exactly what I went through and what I go through as a survivor. Since August of 2022, I’ve been a Face-to-Face Coordinator for the Chicago chapter of the YSC. I coordinate in-person events for our local chapter, and my goal is to try to host one event every other month (if not more frequently).

Having a community of peers who just get it is so important to me, and I know my fellow survivors and thrivers would say the same.

Until next year!

Some members of the Chicagoland chapter of the YSC

Hockey Fights Cancer

Hockey Fights Cancer: Walking the Purple Carpet 💜

Last Thursday (11/03/2022), I got to take part in the Chicago Blackhawks’ Hockey Fights Cancer celebration at the United Center and walk the purple carpet.

The National Hockey League (NHL) commemorates Hockey Fights Cancer month every November, which celebrates survivors and thrivers and honors those who have passed away from cancer (all types).

This was my second year walking the purple carpet, but my first as a breast cancer survivor.

When I walked last year, I was in the midst of treatment. It was late November 2021, and I had just finished radiation, which was the fourth step in my five-step treatment plan: IVF + oocyte retrieval, chemotherapy, surgery, radiation, and immunotherapy. While I had already been declared no evidence of disease (NED) after my surgical pathology report came back in September of 2021, it was weird for me to call myself a “survivor” while I was still in active treatment. So this year I was able to call myself a survivor and actually feel like one six months out of active treatment.

Rebecca Reynoso walks the Purple Carpet for the Chicago Blackhawks Hockey Fights Cancer night

While lining up to walk the carpet, I met a few other wonderful women who have also either battled or are going through treatment for breast cancer currently, and we got to exchange numbers and connect with each other. There were all types of cancer patients in line: children and teens, adult women and men, and so many types of cancer were represented. Even so, I was the only 20-something in the line. Everyone was either a child, teen, or 40+ years old (as cancer patients tend to be).

Although being the only person your age can feel isolating, I was happy that the Blackhawks shared my story with the attendees. I wrote this in my intro paragraph (that they read aloud as I walked the carpet):

Rebecca was diagnosed with HER-2 positive, Stage 2B breast cancer (Invasive Ductal Carcinoma) in March of 2021, 10 days after turning 27 years old. She endured 13 months of intensive treatment, including IVF and egg retrieval surgery, 6 rounds of chemotherapy, a lumpectomy surgery, 33 rounds of radiation, and 11 targeted therapy HER2+ infusions. She finished all treatment in April of 2022 and has been declared no evidence of disease (NED) since undergoing a successful treatment plan with a positive response to chemo and surgery.

Rebecca runs a website,, which aims to help newly-diagnosed breast cancer patients and educate people about women diagnosed with breast cancer before the age of 30. She also works as a mentor to newly-diagnosed breast cancer patients with Imerman Angels and is the volunteer events coordinator for the Young Survival Coalition of Chicago.

While having cancer isn’t a club anyone wants to be a part of, there are truly some incredible people you’ll encounter along the way who understand what you’ve gone through in a way nobody else truly can. I’m so blessed to have had this opportunity and so grateful to my favorite team for the best sport in the world for sharing my story and the stories of so many others affected by cancer.

Thank you again to the Blackhawks, the NHL, and for my forever supporters, Cindy (my mom) and Alen (my bf) for coming out to celebrate with me and see the Hawks win a hell of a game!

Here are a few snapshots of the evening:

  • Cindy and Alen look on at the Chicago Blackhawks Hockey Fights Cancer Purple Carpet walk

Ways to Support Breast Cancer Thrivers and Survivors During Breast Cancer Awareness Month 

Curious how you can make a difference for the breast cancer community during Breast Cancer Awareness Month (October 1–31 annually), but not sure where to start?

Here’s a rundown of seven key ways you can make an impact by doing more than just wearing pink. 

1. Donate or raise money 

Donations are the number one way to help people diagnosed with breast cancer. Donating money to breast cancer foundations helps fund research hours that can lead to better diagnostic tools, medication approval, treatment testing, and hopefully – someday – a cure. Women undergoing treatment for all breast cancer, but specifically metastatic (stage 4, terminal) breast cancer need funding urgently to get more research hours to hopefully find a way to eradicate the disease. 

Here are a few major foundations and associations you can donate to: 

And a local (Illinois) hospital as well: 

2. Volunteer 

You might not have money to donate to others, and that’s okay. But you may have time, which is a valuable asset as well. Some of the foundations above also have volunteer opportunities for events like breast cancer awareness walks. You can also volunteer at the cancer center at your local hospital. 

Here are a few volunteer opportunities you can join: 

There are volunteer opportunities local to the Chicago(land) area as well as opportunities you can access nation or worldwide.

October 2022: 

P.S. I am participating in the Susan G. Komen Walk for a Cure this year. If you would like to donate to my fundraiser, it would be much appreciated.

Ongoing or annual opportunities: 

3. Share resources (financial, spiritual, groups, etc.) 

While it seems like there are tons of resources and “awareness” out there, unless you’re impacted by a diagnosis or by a family member or friend undergoing treatment, you probably know a lot less about breast cancer than you think. 

Breast cancer is not pretty and pink. It’s not “the good cancer,” as people often say. While most breast cancers are treatable and often curable, studies show that women diagnosed at a younger age often suffer higher chances of death, later stage diagnoses, and more aggressive forms of cancer than those diagnosed later in life. 

With this information in mind, even if you’re personally unable to donate money or time, sharing resources and knowledge is free. Here are a few sites and their uses for breast cancer (and other cancer) fighters and their support systems: 

4. Create wellness packages for breast cancer patients 

People undergoing care for breast cancer don’t always have the same treatment plan. A woman undergoing treatment for cancer may endure any combination of the following: 

  • Chemotherapy (intravenous or pill form)
  • Radiation therapy 
  • Breast surgery: lumpectomy, mastectomy, double mastectomy, reconstruction
  • Targeted therapy treatment

Because treatment plans for breast cancer can vary – and not all people have the same side effects – you can make wellness packages for specific treatment stages or regimens. 

For example, if someone undergoing chemotherapy is having trouble eating, but manages to keep soft foods down, a care package consisting of jellos, puddings, instant potato packets, microwavable rice, and stovetop mac-n-cheese might be a good option. Similarly, if someone is scheduled to have a mastectomy, check what stores offer mastectomy bras and buy a gift card for them to help them toward the purchase of a new bra. 

5. Amplify voices of breast cancer thrivers/survivors 

Along with sharing resources, amplifying voices of women affected by breast cancer is another helpful way to do more. Three groups of people who often get overlooked in discussions surrounding breast cancer are adolescent and young adult (AYA) patients, metastatic breast cancer (MBC) patients, and men with breast cancer. 

AYA breast cancer patients 

As with most cancers, age is a risk factor for breast cancer. The median age of diagnosis in the United States is 63, which leads most coverage of breast cancer to focus on mothers and grandmothers, not youthful, energetic 20 and 30-something-year-olds. You’ll see TV ads about breast cancer, featuring women in their 40s or 50s with teenage or adult children walking besides them at an awareness walk. 

But you never see ads in the media about the 21-year-old woman in her junior year of college, getting diagnosed like her mom did a few years earlier. Or the 27-year-old woman climbing the corporate ladder, working her way toward buying a home when she gets diagnosed out of the blue. Or the 32-year-old new mother who thought the lump in her breast was related to her breastfeeding her new baby. 

You never hear stories about young women getting breast cancer. But AYA cancer patients are trying to change that narrative. 

Sites like Twitter have become a wealth of free information on AYA breast cancer shared by thrivers, survivors, and medical professionals who are concerned with educating the under-40 crowd on how to do self breast exams and identify bodily changes. 

Here are a few AYA breast cancer resources you can use for yourself and share with others: 

  • @TeamShan, Breast Cancer Awareness for Young Women National Charity President Lorna Larsen, RN
  • @EK_Drake, Cancer researcher, PhD, and co-founder of the #AYACSM hashtag (standing for Adolescent and Young Adult Cancer Social Media)
  • Candidly Cancer, A website dedicated to helping newly-diagnosed AYA women with breast cancer at all stages navigate the treatment process

Metastatic breast cancer patients 

MBC patients are terminal, but the length of time someone can thrive while undergoing treatment for MBC can be months or years long. You may have seen TV commercials about metastatic breast cancer and the drugs people can take to work toward reducing the progression of the disease. 

In most of these ads, the women presented are fun-loving, jovial, and rearing to go to live their lives to the fullest without any debilitating effects. But in reality, many women with metastatic breast cancer are exhausted, worn out, and want to be realistic about their diagnosis and strength while undergoing treatment. 

While people may not understand the “lack of positivity” surrounding MBC, it’s important to highlight the straightforward, realistic, cut-and-dry outlook some MBC thrivers share on social media. 

Here are a few MBC voices to amplify on Twitter: 

  • @LibbyMBC, a young mother fighting MBC and advocating for others fighting the disease 
  • @ehgkulow, an MBC thriver 
  • @SarahDWald, author and professor living with MBC 

Male breast cancer patients  

Although men have significantly lower risk of contracting breast cancer than women, one in every 100 breast cancer diagnoses are attributed to men, making up for 1% of all cases. Low, but not nonexistent. Men whose grandmothers, mothers, or other blood relatives have had a previous breast cancer diagnosis are more at risk than those without. 

The risk factors for breast cancer in men are generally the same as with women, with risk factors including age, family history of the disease, genetic mutations, exposure to radiation, and certain conditions in the testicles. 

One renowned voice advocating for male breast cancer patients is @malefitness, a Stage IIIb breast cancer and prostate cancer survivor.  

Graphic courtesy of

6. Don’t fall for the “wearing pink = raising awareness” mindset 

If you got 100 breast cancer survivors in a room together and asked what they feel about wearing pink in “support” of breast cancer, the response would be split. Some women love the bright, cheerful, girly vibe that surrounds breast cancer awareness. Others do not. 

Because breast cancer isn’t glamorous and cute like ads and social media make it seem, many survivors rally against pinkwashing, which is a marketing tactic businesses use to encourage people to buy their products during Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Companies may sell pink-hued clothing or accessories in “support” of breast cancer, but if they’re not also donating a percentage of proceeds to a breast cancer foundation, they’re just benefiting from pinkwashing at the expense of breast cancer patients. 

You can still totally wear pink, but if you don’t already own pink clothing and want to purchase something new, try looking for brands that are partnered with a breast cancer foundation and are dedicating a portion of their proceeds to it. 

7. Get tested and don’t ignore the signs 

As indicated earlier, breast cancer is frequently touted as a “mom/grandma/auntie” disease that you don’t get until you’re in your late 40s or older – and it’s often waved off as something you can only get if you have a family history of the disease. 

This is an outdated misconception, and there’s data to prove it. While only 5 percent of breast cancers diagnoses are attributed to women in their 20s and 30s, the disease is becoming more prevalent among the under-40 crowd. Because testing isn’t recommended for younger women, the disease is often missed or overlooked until it’s in a later stage, which can be more difficult to treat. 

Most medical professionals won’t preemptively test women for breast cancer while in their 20s or 30s unless there’s family history or medical factors that indicate a person might be predisposed to the disease. Because of this, you need to be your own advocate and know the signs of breast cancer before it progresses. 

Graphic courtesy of

You have a voice. Use it for good. 

There you have it! It’s not impossible to help, and you have options. Whether financially able to donate money, physically able to donate time, or in a position to help inform others by sharing information online and in-person, we need your voices to amplify ours. 

Breast cancer may not affect you directly now – and it may not ever. But chances are that you or someone you know – family, friend, or acquaintance – may be diagnosed with some form of cancer down the road. So speak up for those who are battling this disease now as if it were you or someone you love going through it. Your help truly does more than you know. 

Announcement: I’ve Joined Young Survival Coalition in a Volunteer Leadership Role

I’m excited to announce that as of September 1st, 2022, I’ve become Co-Coordinator for the Chicago outlet of the Young Survival Coalition!

For those of you who don’t know, Young Survival Coalition is an organization geared toward providing support and community for young women who have been diagnosed with breast cancer before age 40.

As an individual who was diagnosed fewer than two weeks after I turned 27, this organization’s mission is incredibly important to me and aligns with why I created Candidly Cancer in the first place. The statistics behind breast cancer in women younger than 40 shows the need for a community like YSC.

Breast cancer in young women has historically been underrepresented in most discussions surrounding “who” gets breast cancer. While cancer at any age takes a toll on the bodies and minds of the people affected, young women face higher chances of being diagnosed with more aggressive cancers, receiving less funding and research toward how young adults are affected by breast cancer, greater financial and relationship stability concerns, and longstanding issues with body image and mental health.

Since 1998, Young Survival Coalition has grown from a single group out of NYC to an international nonprofit with over 170 local Face 2 Face networking groups (one for which I am now a co-coordinator), an online community, and a conference specifically geared toward young women who have breast cancer.

As a Coordinator for the YSC Chicago F2F network, my responsibilities include planning events for our local chapter so other young women who are either going through treatment or have previously gone through treatment for breast cancer have opportunities to meet face-to-face, get to know each other, grow a community, and build friendships!

I’ve always had an affinity for event planning and coordination; now I get to do it for other young cancer survivors and thrivers. All this is to say: I am so thrilled to be the newest Face 2 Face Coordinator for the YSC Chicago F2F network, and I’m happy to be able to volunteer my time and event coordination leadership skills to such a wonderful organization.

Want to help YSC and young survivors or thrivers like me? Donate to YSC today.

Sorry, If You’ve Never Had Cancer, You Don’t Get to Celebrate Not Having Cancer

Hearing the news you have cancer is a fucking nightmare.

Hearing the news you don’t have cancer anymore is a fucking relief.

And sharing the news online is a great way to raise awareness about cancer, especially in the adolescent and young adult (AYA) community.

That said, an uncomfortable online trend I’ve noticed over the past year or so is people who have never had cancer making posts/statements about them…still not having cancer.

Yeah, I wouldn’t believe it either unless I saw it myself. And I have. At least four times in the past 12 months. What might this sound like?

For example:

  • “My mammogram came back clear! Yay for me!” And they’ve never had cancer before. 🙄
  • “I had a scare but actually it was nothing, and I don’t have cancer, haha isn’t that cool!” With the undertone of I didn’t have cancer before, either, but I also don’t now. 😵‍💫
  • Or saying they or someone they know is “cancer free” when they were seen for a benign, non-cancerous lump and were never previously diagnosed with cancer. So they can’t actually be free of cancer that they’ve never had. 😒

I know you might be confused as to how this is “bad,” celebrating not having cancer, and normally I’m a “live and let live” kind of gal, but it comes off braggadocios to celebrate something you didn’t actually overcome. How can you celebrate (publicly) “not having cancer” when you already didn’t have cancer?

It’s like telling someone whose house recently burnt down “Omg I left the stove burner on and I thought my house was going to burn down! But thank God it didn’t!” Would you do that? Would you knowingly comment some celebratory brag about something you didn’t actually endure?

I get wanting to “raise awareness” about getting your mammograms or other preventative scans and screenings for cancer, but it’s in really poor taste to brag about not having cancer when there are people out there who aren’t so “lucky” to go in and have a routine scan with no bad news.

Or when actual cancer thrivers (see: those with incurable cancer and those in active treatment) and survivors go in for scans and celebrate their clear scans as a win…

Because for them, IT ACTUALLY IS A WIN. BECAUSE THEY HAVE A HISTORY OF CANCER. So NOT having cancer *again* is something to brag about.

But you having clear scans on routine check-ups or a “scare” that wasn’t actually anything to begin with isn’t a “celebration” inasmuch as an expectation. Even if you have a family history of the disease, bragging online about not having cancer when you haven’t had it before is a REALLY WEIRD FLEX – whether you want to hear that or not. And it’s disrespectful to read for people who do or have actually had it.

Look, we’re all thrilled you’re healthy, but damn if it doesn’t feel like a slap in the face to those of us who’ve actually had cancer or are currently enduring treatment for it. We weren’t so lucky. We didn’t get to just breathe a sigh of relief and carry on with our days. And some cancer thrivers never will.

If you’re announcing your scan results because you want to “raise awareness” about cancer, you don’t need to brag about not having fucking cancer.

Instead, you can say, “Hey everyone! Remember to get your annual mammogram!” “Check your breasts on the first of the month!” “Donate to/support X fund for people undergoing cancer treatment!” Don’t make it about you not having cancer when you never fucking did.

Still feeling lost? Here are some actionable ways to help support people who actually do have cancer.

15 Things You Should Never Say to a Cancer Patient

From the inside looking out again, it seems obvious to not say these things to someone undergoing treatment for cancer. But from the outside looking in, you probably wouldn’t know any better. And we know you have good intentions, but a looooot of these statements come across flippant and tone deaf.

What not to say to someone with cancer

Here are a few things you should probably – no, DEFINITELY – not say to any cancer patient ever. Not even your bff. Not even your mom. Not even your coworker. Nobody. Not ever.

Oh, did you do something to your hair?

Yeah, I got cancer.

But you look so good with short hair!

Thanks, I guess? It wasn’t a choice, and I don’t feel comfortable with it…but thanks.

At least you have a good shaped head!

What??? What compels you to say such a thing?

It’s not that bad – at least it’ll grow back!

Cool. Let’s cut your hair off then if it’s no big deal!

I could never do chemo.

Cause I had “do chemo” on my bucket list, right?

Have you tried [insert holistic, unproven, bullshit] instead of chemo?

Look, I’ll take all the woo woo stuff you’ve got, but I’m still doing chemo!!!

I had cancer, too, but I cured it holistically!

No you didn’t lol.

Well at least you have the good cancer!

No cancer is good cancer. No, not even cancers with higher survival rates. All cancers are bad, even if some prognoses are worse.

You don’t even look sick!

That’s cause when I’m feelin’ like absolute garbage, I stay home. If you see me out and about, I’m feeling OK that day.

You’re so brave / I could never do what you’re doing.

I know, this one’s tough to hear. But I’m not brave. I’m doing what I have to do. Brave is performing in front of a crowd. Brave is jumping out of a plane. Doing medically mandated treatments is just… necessary. And you could do it, too, if you had to. But let’s hope you don’t have to.

You’ll be fine!

Will I be fine? I know you mean well and don’t want me to worry (and you don’t want to worry, either), but this is such a brush-off way of saying “don’t worry about it!” – especially when we don’t know if I will, in fact, be fine.

I understand! My [much older relative] had cancer, too!

As someone on the outside of things (i.e. not actually receiving treatment or dealing with a diagnosis yourself), no, you don’t actually understand, and their cancer isn’t my cancer. You might be “familiar” with some cancer-related things, but you don’t understand what *I* am going through. No, not even if your relative or friend went through cancer treatment. You do not understand how it feels to be in the position of someone with cancer. (And I hope you never do.)

Oh, also they died.

Bro what? That really fills me up with hope, thanks!!!

Omg, don’t joke about [cancer-related thing] like that!

If you’re not the person with cancer, don’t tell the person with cancer how to cope with their own fucking cancer. I’m gonna share some dark humor memes and joke about cancer because I can, and if it makes you uncomfortable, I don’t give a shit.

Good thing you’re done with treatment and can go back to normal now!

There is no “normal”. Having cancer will always warp our idea of what “normal” is, and we’ll always be worried about the cancer coming back. I’m trying to recover and be in a place where I was before cancer, but assuming everything’s just…back to the way it was is, in a word, asinine.

Check back soon for another installment of “what not to say to other cancer patients even if you, yourself have/had cancer”. Because believe it or not, some of the most cringeworthy things have come from the mouths of other cancer patients.

Rebecca Reynoso

1 Year Since the Worst News of My Life: How I Navigated a Breast Cancer Diagnosis at 27

They don’t tell ya this when you get cancer, but once they have a suspicion that you’re sick, shit moves fast.

So fast that you don’t really have time to think about any of it.

I often get asked how it happened.

How’d I find out? When did I find out? And of course – do I have a family history of cancer? (No, and many breast cancer diagnoses don’t have family history tied to them, either.)

And I usually repeat the same thing over and over. Sometimes without much detail, sometimes with more.

But it’s been a year now since this whole shit show came to head, so I decided I’d write down a little timeline of the pre-diagnosis to diagnosis stage for y’all. Consider it a cancerversary gift from me to you.

2020: The year that, when asking “what’s the worst that could happen?” – you better be prepared to find out

2020 was a lot of things for a lot of people. But it wasn’t so bad for me. Well, not until the very end.

December 2020: Age 26, 2 months until my birthday

Noticed a lump in my left breast.

I might have been showering. I might have been taking my bra off for the night or putting it on at the beginning of the day. Who knows? I don’t remember. But I felt something.

It felt weird, but I didn’t think it was cancer. Not even for a second. Like, why would I? But when the lump didn’t go away after a few days, I asked my boyfriend to check it out. He’s more paranoid than I am about things regarding health, so when he said I should go to the doctor, I said maybe after the holidays and kind of shrugged it off. But he was adamant. So a few days later, I asked my mom to feel the lump. She said the same thing. Still, I didn’t want to try to get a doctor’s appointment a week before Christmas, our anniversary, and the new year, so I scheduled an appointment for January. It was next year’s problem.

2021: Last year might have been the worst year of your lives, but not me!

If you thought 2020 was bad, I can do you one better!

January 2021: Age 26, 1 month until my birthday

January 11: Go in to my normal clinic, see a nurse practitioner. Tell her what’s going on. She’s nice, but she of course doesn’t think it’s cancer either.

I’m young, I’m healthy, I show no physical signs of illness besides the gigantic lump in my breast (which is not visible to the naked eye – you’d literally have to touch it to “see” it). She tells me to monitor it. Check once a week, not more than that. It’s probably just an inflamed milk duct. Wait until my next period cycle. If it goes away, great. If it starts growing, hurting, call her. Come back in a month to see her for a follow-up regardless.

Gives me this informational sheet that basically says it’s not cancer. Most breast lumps aren’t cancer, it reads. Right. Except for the ones that are.

breast lump pamphlet
“Uncertain breast lump” lol ok

February 2021: Age 26, 10 days until my birthday

February 15: A hell of a day in and of itself, but who knew just how more hellacious my life was about to get? I just had my performance review. It went great; it always did. But I was upset because I didn’t get the compensation I was looking for with my promotion. I was in a bad mood.

And I had to go to the fucking doctor on top of it. And I hated going to the doctor. What were they going to tell me? Oh you’re fine, don’t worry about it, whatever! Thanks for wasting your time coming here today!!! Because that’s what they always did to me. It was nothing. I was fine. Pay your copay. Go home.

So I got to the clinic. I checked in. I chatted with the same nurse practitioner. This time, she was a bit more serious. The lump hadn’t gotten any worse in the past month, but it hadn’t gotten any better, either. She told me she was going to refer me to breast imaging so they could tell me for sure what’s going on. Still, she was of the mindset that it was probably a cyst, nothing to worry about. I didn’t have any of the “signs” of breast cancer – no puckering of the skin, no discoloration, no discharge, no visible changes – nothing. Except for a gigantic fucking lump.

From this point, I don’t remember if they called me to schedule the appointment or I called them, but I think the latter. I told them I couldn’t meet until after March 2nd because I was out of town that weekend. My boyfriend and I were heading to Williams Bay, WI, for a birthday weekend getaway. And I wasn’t about to deal with this shit during my birthday.

27th birthday
My 27th birthday, 02/25/21

…so they scheduled me for March 3rd.

March 2021: Age 27, 6 days after my birthday

March 3: They scheduled me for a mammogram and ultrasound. When I went in, I had to fill out one of those medical history forms. Wasn’t much to fill in. I can’t remember much, but I think I was in and out within 30, maybe 45 minutes. Boy does it hurt when your breasts are squished between plastic plates for imaging purposes.

The notes from the visit on the medical portal read:

You were seen on Wednesday March 3, 2021. The following issues were addressed:
Lump of left breast

I can’t remember if they told me right then and there that I needed to schedule a follow-up, or if they called me later that day, but they told me I needed to come back for another mammogram and ultrasound.

The notes on the test result portion on the portal read:

Indeterminant spiculated palpable mass in the upper outer left breast. Ultrasound-guided biopsy recommended.

I started to worry. I started to worry a lot.

March 9: I came in again for another mammogram and ultrasound. And a biopsy. They decided to do a needle biopsy during the ultrasound. I was very scared. I don’t remember if I asked any questions. I don’t remember much after the visit.

The notes from the visit on the medical portal read:

You were seen on Tuesday March 9, 2021. The following issues were addressed:

  • Left breast mass
  • Abnormal mammogram of left breast

a b n o r m a l – every girl’s favorite word to hear about her breasts.

The notes on the test result portion on the portal read:

Ultrasound guided biopsy of a left breast mass. Pathology revealed invasive ductal carcinoma, grade 3, which is concordant. Ultrasound guided biopsy of a left axillary lymph node. Pathology revealed metastatic disease, which is concordant. Surgical consultation recommended. Further evaluation with bilateral diagnostic mammogram and/or MRI recommended.

But wait! There’s more. I also got this gem:

A. Left axillary lymph node:

  • Portion of lymph node with metastatic carcinoma.

B. Core biopsy, left breast, 2 o’clock:

  • Invasive ductal carcinoma, Nottingham score 3+3+3. (See comment)

Now, I know how to fucking read, but let me tell ya – I was so confused by all of this. All I really got was “metastatic carcinoma,” which I knew meant cancer that had spread. I was, at this point, self-teaching cancer terminology. I didn’t want to tell my boyfriend. I didn’t want to tell my mom. I didn’t want to give any weight to these words. I knew “metastatic” was code for “has spread” and I conflated it with “terminal” – because in many instances, metastatic = terminal.

So here I am fucking freaking out because the geniuses who invented medical portals think it’s cool to send test results to patients before doctors get a chance to talk results through with them.

March 10: Some lady calls me from the clinic I go to. “Hey, we need you to come in to discuss your recent test results.” I already knew it was cancer. “You can just tell me over the phone.” “No, we need you to come in. Can you come in today?”

No, because I fucking work??? I can’t just drop my life on a dime because y’all don’t want to tell me over the phone. I was irritated. Just fucking tell me I have cancer. I already KNEW by this point. All the “hush hush” bullshit was getting on my nerves.

But I’m not as rude to people on the phone as I am when reflecting on a piss-poor patient experience a year later. So I talked to my managers. Told them what was up. Scheduled myself to go in the next day to ~ discuss my results ~

March 11: It was a Thursday. I don’t remember the weather. I don’t remember what I was wearing. My dad was off of work. My mom was off of work. My boyfriend took the day off. We rode in together to the clinic.

I knew why I was going. I asked if I could bring somebody in over the phone before I went inside. No, because of COVID. They said you could bring somebody in if you were a minor, elderly, or discussing surgery.

I knew why I was going. But I didn’t feel right saying, “Well I’m about to be fucking diagnosed with cancer so I think that’s a good enough reason for me to bring somebody in.”

So I went inside alone.

I waited. Maybe 10 minutes, maybe 20. The same nurse practitioner from before came in. No smile. Low tone. Giving off a depressing aura. I hit record on my phone’s voice recording app. I didn’t want to forget anything she said. And she talked in a fucking circle for six straight minutes until she finally blurted out that “the biopsy came back positive for cancer”. Oh yeah? You think?

“Okay,” I said. “So what happens next?” I didn’t cry. Well…not at first. I had already resigned myself to the fact that it was cancer.

“Do you have anyone here with you?” “Yeah, but they wouldn’t let me bring somebody in.” “Do you want to call someone to come in?” “Yeah.”

They only let me bring one person in and I had to choose who out of the three most important people to me I would be bringing in to tell the worst possible fucking news of my entire life.

I called my mom to come in. I had already text my boyfriend to let him know.

I don’t remember how long we stayed inside the room. I remember I kept asking questions about what happens next, this and that. But she told me the cancer center would call me to make my primary appointment with “the cancer team,” and that they would answer all of my questions. And of course I had a lot to ask.

We left the clinic. I went outside. I ran to my boyfriend. He jumped out of the backseat, we hugged, and we cried. My dad got out of the car, we hugged, and we cried.

And we cried.

And we cried.

breast cancer awareness symbol pink paint flowing

Breast Cancer Awareness Month (as a Breast Cancer Patient)

As many of you know Breast Cancer Awareness month begins today, October 1st.

As a woman undergoing treatment for breast cancer, my perception of all things breast cancer has changed over the past year. Because of my new ‘status’ as a breast cancer patient during BCA month, I’d like to inform y’all about some things relating to breast cancer and support that you can take into consideration during the month of October (and always!).

Check your breasts

Women, check your breasts. Every month. If something feels off, go to the doctor. Get them checked out. It can happen to you. One in 8 women will get breast cancer in their lifetime. And more women are getting breast cancer earlier in life. I found my tumor at 26 and was diagnosed at 27. Despite the recommendation that only women over 45 get regular mammograms, this isn’t just a cancer that happens to grandmas, moms, and aunts. It can happen to any woman at any time. And it does.

Stage 4 needs more

While breast cancer is often highly curable, metastatic breast cancer is not. It is fatal. Women may live for many years with the disease, but so far there is NO cure for metastatic (also known as Stage 4) breast cancer. Stage 4 needs more funding, research, and recognition. Metastatic breast cancer awareness day is October 13th annually, and you can learn more about the disease and how to help.

Watch where you buy your pink “support” gear from

If you want to wear pink in support of breast cancer awareness, go for it! But first find out whether where you’re buying pink gear from is actually donating part of the proceeds to breast cancer research foundations or not. If not, find a store that is and buy from them instead.

A lot of companies like to make a quick buck off of people who either think they’re being supportive and don’t know better or off survivors/thrivers looking to buy some gear for themselves. We don’t want this. Wearing pink without actually donating to foundations that help breast cancer patients doesn’t support a damn thing.

Instead, look for a BCRF (Breast Cancer Research Fund) label or partnership acknowledgement on a company’s website. If you don’t see something like this (below), from the Loft, on a company’s page anywhere – but they ARE selling “pink” gear – they are NOT donating to breast cancer research.

breast cancer awareness Loft
Loft in support of BCRF, 2021

Here are a few other companies who are donating proceeds to BCRF or other breast cancer organizations:

Pay attention to what you say and how you say it to women battling breast cancer

Don’t tell someone who gets diagnosed with breast cancer that they’re *lucky* because they got the *good* cancer. While again, breast cancer is highly treatable, treatment – especially for those who have to endure chemo – is painful and life-altering.

I dealt with significant hair loss despite cold capping, severe face and arm rashes, gastrointestinal issues that caused me to drop 40 pounds over four months’ time, nail discoloration, and medication-induced side effects like vomiting, diarrhea, hot flashes, and fatigue. And really, no cancer is “GOOD”.

Also, we don’t want to hear how your cousin’s friend’s grandma “had breast cancer, too!” …and then died from it.

If you’re talking about someone close and personal to you who died from breast cancer (a direct relative, a friend), that’s different. But still, talking about death could be triggering to breast cancer patients – ESPECIALLY those with mets. Ask before sharing a story about someone who died from the same cancer someone is currently going through treatment for.

Do your research to help others

All it takes is a quick Google search: “breast cancer awareness month donations” for multiple options to pop up. If you can’t afford to donate, share a post on social media and help bring awareness to others. Breast cancer isn’t something we should brush off because “oh everyone knows about it”. We need you to speak up, donate, and participate.

And if you’re feeling generous, donate to my Making Strides of Chicago page. All proceeds go to the American Cancer Society. On October 16, 2021, I’ll be walking alongside my boyfriend and the team at Advocate Illinois Masonic hospital in acknowledgement of my fight and the fights of other thrivers and survivors.

platter of tapas

Hungry, but Can’t Eat: Food Issues While Undergoing TCHP Chemo

I am absolutely starving.

Okay, not starving. I have weight to spare. But I am so motherfucking hungry I can barely put it into words.

After every chemo session (I’m done with 4 out of 6 at time of writing), there’s a window of 10–11 days where I can barely eat anything because it is physically painful to do so, and everything tastes disgusting or has no flavor at all. It’s a weird side effect I didn’t realize could happen before chemo, and it’s something that people who aren’t experiencing cancer treatments will never be able to comprehend. And thank God for that.

Let me try to explain it for you in hopes you never experience this awful feeling. And if you’re currently undergoing this regimen and reading this blog, I feel your pain. I am with you.

While on chemo, specifically the TCHP regimen, your tongue goes numb beginning the day after infusion. When you’re at the hospital, it’s ok to eat if you feel inclined. You can eat while undergoing infusions, but as the day progresses, you will start to feel less interested in eating.

One of the things this chemo regimen does is change the way food tastes, from flavors to textures. So by the time you get home from an infusion, you might be hard pressed to eat. After 2 of the 4 sessions I’ve had so far, I have eaten when I got home from chemo same day. It is very situation-dependent.

But by the next day, your tongue starts to feel funny. I’ve previously described the feeling like a sock on your tongue, and there’s no better way to put it.

Picture this:

You’ve put a tight sock on your tongue, but you need to eat. But every piece of food you place on your tongue feels like a foreign object. A flavorless object occupying space in your mouth. On top of that, there’s something stuck in your throat. It’s not food because you haven’t been able to get anything down. It’s another foreign object. Lodged there. You can’t move it. And even drinking water won’t help. Actually, drinking water might hurt. Because water is also disgusting.

That’s how eating feels for nearly two weeks after a chemo infusion.

Your throat feels full and like it’s burning, your tongue doesn’t work, and your stomach absolutely hates you.

Foods are too sweet. Too greasy. Too spicy. Too salty. Too sharp. Too rough.

Food smells amazing. But the taste? God awful. Avocados? Bitter. Ice cream? Like you licked the inside of a bag of sugar. Potatoes? Greasy, gross, vomit-inducing.

I tried making myself some pico de gallo about 5 days after my last infusion. I used one serrano pepper. They’re hot, but nothing I can’t normally stomach with ease. The minute one diced pepper touched my tongue, I started gagging hysterically and had to down a full bottle of water. Spice is intensified; sweet is nearly unbearable. All of it is horrible.

Because of my inability to eat, I drop about 10 pounds in body weight after each chemo session. I’m currently down 28 pounds since the start of infusions, with another five or so days to go until I can eat with normalcy after this session.

“That’s not 10 pounds! You’ve been through four sessions! You’d be down 40 otherwise!” Good job. I usually gain back about ~5 pounds the final week before the next treatment…because like magic, my tongue works again.

Some people on other chemo regimens have noted their insatiable hunger. I guess you could say I’m insatiably hungry, too – I just can’t act on it. Some chemos require you to take oral steroids as part of your treatment plan. I am on Dexamethasone (an oral steroid) the day before, day of, and day after chemo. But after those three days, I don’t take any steroids, so I don’t have this bottomless pit stomach feeling others have experienced.

The non-eating isn’t even the worst part!

On top of not being able to eat, you’re plagued with awful, debilitating fatigue. Because you can’t eat, your energy and hydration levels are at unhealthy lows. You’re exhausted. Your head hurts. You’re dizzy. You can barely stand up straight. Want to walk a flight of stairs? Fuhgeddaboudit. Everything takes so much fucking energy reserve and you have so little because you’re not eating. And you can’t even FORCE yourself to eat without possibly getting sick in the process.

Fun fact: Some people online have told me to just “suck it up and find something to eat!” like I wouldn’t have already tried that if I could. I detest vomiting, so anything I can do to prevent myself from throwing up is what I’ll do, but thanks anyway, internet advice-giver. P.s. I haven’t vomited once since on chemo and hopefully can make it through the rest without doing so.

There’s a mental aspect to it, too.

The mental toll of not being able to eat food is so much harder than I’d ever have thought. My mind is consumed with what I cannot eat. Days drag by because what might normally be considered “mental” breaks for meals just don’t happen. I’ve broken down crying at least once every window between chemos because I can smell and see food, but can’t taste or eat it.

For me, food is a part of life. So not being able to look forward to a hot meal at the end of the day or casually grab a donut and coffee for a fun and fast breakfast is so taxing on my mind. It might seem crazy, but our lives literally surround food. One of the many joys IN life IS food. Taking that joy away makes the days drag. Makes my emotional state so numb. So disinterested in everything.

You know how you might joke that you look forward to your morning coffee? I can’t even do that. I have barely consumed any caffeine since April because it’s too bitter or hard on my stomach. I would love to wake up and have a sweet roll. An egg sandwich. Log off work and go out for spontaneous sundaes or fraps at Starbucks.

But everything has to be so strategic, so deliberate. I’m already planning ahead what I can eat and when once these next few days are up.

So what do you do when you can’t eat?

I torture myself, naturally.

I spend way too much time on Instagram and TikTok watching cooking videos, dreaming about the food I can’t even dare to eat. Over the past few months, I’ve followed a couple of amazing chefs whose food I drool over for days on end:

I spam-send my boyfriend videos of mouthwatering food, continually telling him what dish I want to eat next. He tells me to make a list so we can remember after each chemo session. Lately, I’ve been on a Mexican food jag with some spicy Asian noodle dishes sprinkled in between. Pretty on par for what I normally want to eat, to be fair.

Somewhere toward 6–7 days after chemo (today, as it were), I start feeling more myself. I ate a banana and a mini bag of 100 calorie pretzels. A whopping ~250 calories or so for my day. But hey, it sure beats not eating anything. Sometimes I’ll get the urge to cook for my family, then immediately regret doing so as I can’t taste anything I’m cooking. Happened last night when I made one of my favorite go-to quick dishes, copycat Panda Express chow mein noodles.

By the end of the week, around 8–9 days post chemo, some taste starts coming back. It comes back rather gradually. Using the 1–10 scale for 10 being full-flavor, I hit about a 5/6 a week and a half out from infusion day. About 12–14 days post infusion, it shoots back up to about an 8 or 9. Then, for 7 glorious days, I can eat food.

Do you have food recommendations since we have to eat *something*?

Yes, but they vary per person. A few things that have worked for me are:

  • Plain or cinnamon apple oatmeal
  • Mac and cheese, depending how many days it had been since chemo
  • Strawberries
  • Bananas
  • Blueberries
  • Slim Fast shakes (not too sweet, lots of protein)
  • Plain pretzels
  • Peanut butter
  • Peanuts
  • Cheese, though it still tasted weird
  • Plain white rice
  • Plain rotisserie chicken, again, depending how far out from treatment

What foods do you recommend staying away from?

It varies per person, but here’s a quick list of things I wouldn’t dare touch during chemo + 10 days:

  • Fried foods – for the love of God, don’t do it
  • Anything spicy (even if you can handle the hot stuff like I normally can)
  • Meat, especially beef
  • Seafood
  • Coffee or caffeinated drinks
  • Alcohol
  • Candy, ice cream, pastries
  • Soda
  • Lemonade

When you can taste food again, what do you eat?

Anything and everything my body can handle. A few takeout/dine-in highlights over the course of chemos have been:

As you can see, I have a few food trends: Mexican food, nachos with brisket, Chinese food, and wings of various sorts. And as spicy as I can handle it on good days.

What sucks is because I have to eat so little over the first 10 days, I can’t eat as much as I’d like on the days thereafter. A few times I’ve pushed it, but usually I have more food than I can handle, which results in leftovers I might not necessarily finish.

Closing thoughts

Anyway, this ode-of-sorts to food is a way for me to reach out to fellow people undergoing TCHP to say: you’re not alone. This part is fucking horrible. I’ve never experienced a worse feeling. Some people might try to compare not being able to taste foods when their nose is stuffed up or when they have a cold or the flu, but I promise you – nothing is similar to this.

Please try to eat something small so you can stop feeling like utter shit. I can barely move or function on the days I can’t get anything down, so please try your best. Forcing water and taking your anti-nausea meds might be your best bet. So far bananas, strawberries, and other berries have been my saving grace.

And for anyone else just reading along, thank you for listening to me bitch about how hungry I am and how awful this side effect is. Next time you’re around someone undergoing chemo, ask them how they’re feeling food-wise. If it’s a good day, offer to buy them lunch! ♡

Chemo Hair Loss

Figured now was as good a time as any to share this news…

After my last chemo, I started shedding a LOT of hair despite using the DigniCap scalp cooling system. What’s more, I developed a huge bald spot at the front of my hairline, and I got so frustrated that I had my mom cut all of my hair off in early May.

With my third chemo coming up tomorrow, I figured I should finally share what my hair looks like now. It’s not great, but it’s what I have for now.

I will continue using the DigniCap scalp cooling because despite developing a bald spot at the front and shedding a ton of hair, I so far have not developed additional bald spots. My hair mean(s/t) the world to me. It was absolutely beyond devastating to have to make this decision.

I am not happy that this had to happen. But without DigniCap, I would be completely bald right now otherwise. And I know this for a fact. So I’m extremely grateful to have the hair coverage I still do currently. I am also extremely blessed to still have my eyebrows and eyelashes as well as a mostly full head of hair, even if it is super duper short right now.

I’ve NEVER had hair this short in my life, so this was a complete change for me. I am so worried about the next four treatments. I have no idea how I’ll fare, if I’ll lose more hair, if I’ll lose my eyebrows or lashes, or what more is going to happen. Every new round of chemo is an absolute shitshow of “what else could go wrong this time?”.

All I can do is pray, hope for the best, and lean on all of you for your continued support. I can’t wait for time to pass to get healthy and have a full head of hair back in the future.

Anyway, just wanted to share that with all of you to rip the bandage off and so you’re not all shocked when I share pics from the next chemo session.

short hair
Short hair, do care