By Victoria Ramirez
I always thought of myself as a planner. I had a master’s degree, a career in clinical research, a supportive partner, and a future I thought I could predict. But in June 2023, at 31 years old, I found myself facing a reality I never saw coming: stage 2 triple-negative breast cancer.
Before my diagnosis, my life revolved around deadlines, meetings, and goals. Like many women, I often put others’ needs ahead of my own, pushing through exhaustion and stress, believing that if I could just finish one more project or take on one more task, everything would eventually fall into place. I thought I was invincible, assuming breast cancer was a concern for an older version of myself. But everything shifted one day when I felt a small, unassuming lump on my breast.
My initial reaction was denial. I was too busy, too young, too healthy for cancer—right? But something deep inside told me not to ignore it. I scheduled a doctor’s appointment, and within days, I was thrust into a whirlwind of tests, biopsies, and anxious waiting rooms. The day I heard, “It’s cancer,” everything else fell away.
Triple-negative breast cancer (TNBC) is known for being aggressive and more likely to affect younger women, particularly women of color. Suddenly, I was part of a statistic I didn’t even know existed. The next few weeks were a blur of fertility preservation, chemotherapy plans, and preparing for the unknown. I chose to be proactive and freeze my eggs before starting treatment, knowing that chemo could impact my ability to have children. While my friends were planning weddings or family vacations, I was bracing myself for the fight of my life.
I lost most of my hair after the second chemo session. It seemed like such a small thing compared to everything else, but watching clumps fall out in the shower was devastating. It was a moment where the reality of what was happening truly sank in. I didn’t recognize the woman staring back at me in the mirror. But as much as the physical changes were challenging, it was the emotional toll that really took me by surprise. I felt like I was losing parts of myself—my energy, my confidence, and even my identity.
However, as I moved through treatment, I found strength I didn’t know I had. Each chemo session became a small victory. Each day I woke up feeling even slightly okay was a reminder that I was still here, still fighting. I leaned heavily on my family, my partner, and the few friends who truly understood what I was going through.
After five months of chemotherapy, I had a double mastectomy. It was the hardest decision I’ve ever made, but I knew it was necessary. There were moments when I doubted myself, times when the fear of the unknown felt suffocating. But in the midst of it all, I began to see my journey as more than just survival—I saw it as an opportunity to redefine what strength and resilience looked like.
Now, in survivorship, life feels different. I’ve had to confront the reality that “normal” may never return. There are scars, both physical and emotional, that will never completely fade. But I also see how this experience has shaped me in ways I never imagined. I have a new perspective on time, relationships, and self-advocacy. I learned to say no, to prioritize my health, and to speak up when something doesn’t feel right. This journey has taught me that I am capable of withstanding more than I ever thought possible.
Today, I’m passionate about using my story to raise awareness, particularly for young women and women of color. There are so many of us who fall through the cracks, who are told we’re “too young” for this diagnosis, who struggle to find resources and support that reflect our experiences. I want to change that. I hope to use my voice to empower others to pay attention to their bodies and prioritize their health.
Cancer is a chapter I never expected to be written into my story, but I’m determined to use it to make a difference. While my scars may serve as reminders of a difficult journey, they are also symbols of strength, survival, and the promise of a future I’m still planning—one that I hope will be even more impactful than I ever imagined.
اقرأ أكثر:
في البودكاست محادثات سرطان الثدي
جاكي كارتر أنجيل: الموازنة بين العمل والأمومة وقناة mTNBC
شارك قصتك أو شعرك أو فنك:
SurvivingBreastBreastCancer.org الموارد والدعم:
