There was clearly something wrong with the thing.

Women have all sorts of varied relationships with their breasts, and I’m certain mine is different from my mother’s, sister’s, each and every girlfriend. I’m a looker and a feeler, proudly (and somewhat compulsively) body aware. So when I saw the nipple of my left breast puckering in, as if from the swallow of something particularly caustic, I knew there was a deeper cause to be sussed out. There was a lump too, and it felt – alien.

I’m 39. No incidence of breast cancer in my family, seemingly… ever. Very little cancer at all in fact, so my initial suspicions were fairly tempered. Two months, a mammogram, MRI and six biopsies later, breast cancer it was. Bi-lateral mastectomy was scheduled for the following month and the peripherals of life fell immediately further into an outer orbit.

Between diagnosis and surgery, I went on what felt like a cross-country press junket; strategically giving the news to family and friends, colleagues and certain acquaintances, tailoring each conversation to the nature of the relationship and the needs of the recipient. I had absolutely zero idea how much empathy and effort would go into telling the right folks in the right ways, but even in those early stages of my own grieving process, the exercise of it clarified – in minute detail – the power and gravity of human interaction. Not a single Facebook or blog post, nor Instagram (I’m not big into either, generally of the private sort), the intimacy of these conversations became the infrastructure upon which my successful recovery became based.

Perhaps greater value than the gifts, support, kind words and gestures from others, was the opportunity to present those around me with a reason to give. We’re granted few such moments these days, in an era in which the call to living charitably can be answered by a mouse click. The very clear decision I had to at one point make - to let people in, and even more so, to allow them to care for me - was a strikingly beautiful lesson in the quintessential nature of human love and friendship.

People came out of the woodwork, and I let every single one of them in. Not all were ingenuous, of course, but nearly. And hopefully, they learned as much from me about a no brakes taking-on of life’s unforeseen potholes as I did from them about the weight and might of true compassion. Cancer taught me not only how to love myself on a deeper level, but also how to let others love… me.

It was the Sunday of Labor Day Weekend, 2013. I woke up, showered then, as per usual, put lotion on all of my dry spots. Special focus on my legs, arms, and face… and then my right nipple. This had been a dry spot for at least a month – but I had attributed it to wearing bras with lace and seams. When I applied the lotion, I felt a lump. I immediately knew what it was. I came downstairs and asked my husband to feel it. He told me he could barely feel anything and not to worry about it, but to have it checked out. I however, went upstairs and Googled the hell out of “breast lumps”. Within an hour I had diagnosed myself with Breast Cancer- stage 2B. I had to wait until Tuesday to see my OB/GYN, who told me he was surprised I had even felt it – but that I should definitely have a diagnostic ultrasound. Fast forward to 9/11, when I received the diagnosis of Breast Cancer - Invasive Ductal Carcinoma - stage 2B.

Right after meeting with the Oncologist to get an understanding of the diagnosis and treatment plans, I had scheduled an appointment with “Wonders & Worries” to talk to them to get advice and feedback on how to talk to our children – ages 13 and 10 – about this situation. The Executive Director spent more than an hour coaching my husband and me on how to talk with our kids, what words to use, books to read and share together, etc. We learned that we had to be 100% completely honest with them – and we were. It was the most difficult conversation of my life – made so much easier with the help of Wonders & Worries. Our kids went on to have 6 therapy sessions with Wonders & Worries and loved every single one of them. I am forever grateful for their wisdom and support…

Speaking of grateful…. Wow. I have been more than humbled by the support of family, friends, friends of friends, colleagues, associates and strangers throughout this entire ordeal – or “journey” as some call it. The cards, calls, food, gifts, rides, gift cards, newspapers, magazines, donations in my honor, etc. were so amazing – and so incredibly appreciated. I had friends drive me to chemo – and hang out for 5 hours – acting as if they had nothing better to do… When I know they had 1,000,000 better things to do. All of this got me through chemotherapy.

I had and have amazing support through the Breast Cancer Resource Center in Austin. What a powerful and strong group of women they are. I base so many of my medical decisions on the feedback and insight I get from this group of amazing women.

I am now “NED”: No Evidence of Disease. I have no idea how long that will last –but am grateful for it now. I went through 16 rounds of chemotherapy (while working and travelling for work full-time!) a double mastectomy with expanders in March, another surgery to replace the expanders with implants in May, another surgery to re-suture one area due to infection in June, then hospitalized for almost 3 days for another infection and am looking forward to getting nipples in August. My care team consists of the “best of the best” and I’m so incredibly grateful for each of them.

All in all, I think the word I’ve most overused in this essay, is the best one to describe my situation right now: grateful. I wouldn’t wish Breast Cancer on my worst enemy (or any other cancer for that matter) but I have learned so much, and have been blessed to feel the love and support of so many people. The word “survivor” doesn’t fit me for many reasons. One – “survivor” implies an end point, and I don’t have that luxury. However, and most importantly, having Breast Cancer doesn’t define me, and isn’t something that I consider to be a part of “who I am” like I do “Mother, Wife, Sister, Daughter, incredibly hard worker, etc.” It is something I have gone through, and may go through again, but it isn’t something that defines who I am or who I will be. It’s just one thing I’ve been through. And I’m eternally grateful (that word again!) for everyone who has been there for me and my family.