January 2023: I was lying on the sofa watching Netflix, meanwhile comparing the symmetry of my body. Yes, weird, but I'm an athlete. I unexpectedly felt something DIFFERENT in my left breast. It felt like a bb pellet. The lump was elusive, difficult to pin down. I was unsure, and continued to check again over the next few weeks.

February 2023: My annual mammogram was due. I wrote on the intake form that I felt a lump and told the technician, "Please image the left side thoroughly - I think I feel a small lump." The radiologist sent me home, saying my mammogram was clear and that I should come back next year. This "good news" was easy to believe.

March of 2023: Life was good. With my children just out of the house, a bittersweet newfound freedom had begun. The world was wide open and anything was possible. It was here I met my Highland family in Saint Augustine.

April 2023: The thought of the lump still lingered in the back of my mind. One day a friend posted her breast cancer story on Facebook. What was in the back of my mind catapulted to the front. Wow, she was younger than me...if it could happen to her...it could happen to anybody. Her post saved my life. I had an appointment coming up with a new PCP. I wrote "lump in breast" in teeny tiny letters at the bottom of my health problem list.

The day of the appointment came and I nearly forgot to mention the lump. As the physician was walking out the door, I said, "Oh...there is one more thing. It's probably nothing...but...I thought I felt a lump." The doctor did a serious about-face, and said, "We have to check this out." She said "You just had your mammogram. I can not feel the lump however one side feels different. I'm sending you for another mammogram." I am so fortunate to have had a doctor that took me seriously.

I went for the second mammogram. It showed *nothing*. This time, they kept me for an ultrasound. The ultrasound tech worked hard, but could find nothing. As I got up to leave, something made me stop at the door. I turned around and for what seemed the millionth time, said, "But I can feel a lump." The tech, her name is Poppy, took me seriously. She said, "Come back here. Lie on the table. Show me EXACTLY where you feel it. Let me see if I can feel it." Her eyes got wide and she said, "Oh my gosh I can feel it!" This time, she found it on the ultrasound. The radiologists came into the room. They were amazed, saying, "Wow good job, both of you! We looked at every image you've had and we cannot see anything." A biopsy was scheduled

May 2023: I was at the Savannah games. I confided in Christine, a survivor. I told almost no one else what was going on. I told a co-worker , another nurse. On the day of the biopsy, she told me, "You don't need to leave - your mammogram was clear and you don't need a biopsy."

I did leave and I did have the biopsy. The physician told me, "It will take a few days for results. I don't want you to worry. Doesn't look like cancer, doesn't feel like cancer - I'm 99% sure this is not cancer."

May 11: Five days after Savannah, fresh into a new romance and enjoying life and my newfound freedom, the biopsy results came in: it was cancer.

Confusion set in and difficult decisions had to be made.  The cancer journey and the health care system are overwhelming.  As a nurse, there was so much I did not know - lots of information and it was not simple.  I would have never known without going through it.  

I entered a clinical study and started taking medication.  I had to wait until July 7th for surgery.  During the wait, I found the cancer diagnosis to be liberating in an odd way - permission to be free, to enjoy things because no one is guaranteed tomorrow.   What a rollercoaster.  While I was so relieved to have found the cancer early, I was not ready for the marathon.

July 2023: I had two surgeries in a row - literally one operating room to another.  I had complications requiring six weeks in a hyperbaric oxygen chamber.  The treatment mitigated the surgical nightmare, but I lost my vision from the oxygen.  I knew it was a risk going in.  I saw many eye specialists and am blessed that the vision loss eventually reversed.  I was traumatized physically, psychologically, and emotionally.

I was not allowed to exercise for months, which made this journey that much more unbearable.  I returned to highland games in September of 2023.  How I score doesn’t matter so much. I'm just happy to be there!

All through this time, there were unexpected betrayals and equally unexpected loyalties.  Sadly, for some, it is easier to turn their back on you than to face your mortality.  

When a family friend asked what they could do to help,  my son gave a heartbreaking compliment:  "Don't worry about her - she's strong."

I became subject to workplace hostility and bullying to a level I could never imagine...especially to someone whose health was so compromised.  At the same time, co-workers I didn't even know stepped forward and donated sick time to me for my surgery.  People are good.

My highland family surrounded me through all this and still does, especially the Sisterhood. Some days, I still fall apart. I'm mentally shaky and distraught, and I borrow strength from those of you around me.