‘My Mom Has Breast Cancer’
Writing those words pulls me back to the moment I thought of them back in May when my mom got her breast cancer diagnosis. It’s hard to believe it’s already been almost six months.
Those are the words that hit me when her diagnosis was confirmed back in May. Somehow, that moment simultaneously feels like it just happened, and also happened forever ago.
Time doesn’t seem real anymore. But we’ve taken it one day at a time. It also helps to be expert-level disassociators. Not dwelling too much on the emotion of it all makes it a tiny bit easier to just focus on taking care of what needs to be done during her treatment.
For those who don’t know, I am my mom’s caregiver, and I have been helping her and managing her healthcare since she became disabled rather suddenly in January 2019.
Since October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month and I have been sitting on this for a long time now, I decided it was time to write about the whole experience so far. This is, of course, all written with permission, vetting, and approval from my mom.
This article will discuss the experience of her getting diagnosed and going through treatment thus far, how she’s doing, and its impacts on our lives. And, it will also heavily include my experience of being a caregiver, and what that looks like.
The Week We Got the Initial Diagnosis
I want to start by saying that the week my mom was diagnosed was tough and honestly just weird, to say the least. Everything happened so fast over six days. That Sunday, she told me she had a large lump in her breast.
Tuesday
By Tuesday, we saw her doctor, who told us to come in immediately after we called her on Monday. I had kept a level head the past couple of days up until when the doctor had me (with Mom’s permission) feel the lump. I had a full-on panic attack and lost my composure as that reality finally hit. It was very, very large.
“How had it gotten so large, so fast? She’d had a mammogram a year ago, but nothing was there! Oh my god. My mom has breast cancer.” The thoughts wrapped around my head and squished me under the questions and weight of reality. I clutched my chest and started crying and struggling to breathe as the emotions overwhelmed me, catching me so off guard.
Her doctor, after calming me down, said the breast center would call in the next week or two. They called later that evening and scheduled her as soon as possible – Friday.
Thursday
Thursday, I almost set my kitchen on fire. (This relates to how Friday went and the fact that I was out of it this particular week). After breakfast, I went back to sleep and accidentally left the stove on low. I woke up to the carbon monoxide alarm, only to find a plastic cutting board my mom placed there after I went to sleep, which had caught fire and melted on the stove, fumes of plastic filling the house. Thankfully, aside from a stove grill being covered in melted plastic and needing to be thrown out, nothing was damaged by the fire. After calming down from my second panic attack of the week, I took my dog and left to get fresh air.
Later that night, my dog got sick, very likely from the smoke and melting plastic fumes.
Friday
So, while I took Athena to the emergency vet on Friday, my mom got scans at the breast care center. Thankfully, Athena was fine – my wallet was not, though. (Yay for pet insurance, I guess.)
After I got home from the vet and got my dog settled, I went to pick up my mom from her appointment. Five minutes before I got to the center, she called me to tell me the doctor had just confirmed she absolutely had breast cancer. They just didn’t know what kind yet.
‘My mom has breast cancer,’ I thought as I got off the phone and drove the last few minutes to the breast care center, crying.
How My Mom Initially Went About Telling Me
A Fateful Moment
The day my mom initially told me about the mass in her breast happened to be Mother’s Day. She didn’t plan to tell me that day. She didn’t plan to tell me at all.
As “luck” would have it – if we can call it that – I was standing in the living room talking to her and happened to be absentmindedly holding my own breast in a funny way that had caught her attention. We’d finished talking, and I went to update our wall calendar.
Her being in a wheelchair, she wheeled over to me and said, “Hey, there’s something I haven’t told you that I need to tell you. I wasn’t going to say anything, but the way you were standing made me think of it.”
And then she said it. “I have had a large lump in my breast that I noticed about five weeks ago. It was already very large when I noticed it.”
My world shattered at that moment. “Oh my god. My mom has breast cancer?” I thought.
Why She Didn’t Tell Me
I struggled to keep calm and not get upset at her for keeping that a secret, especially when I’m her caretaker and responsible for her health. I asked her why she didn’t tell me.
“Because I didn’t want to make you anxious.”
That comment made me very sad and angry. And though I didn’t express that emotion externally, I told her it hurt me in several ways.
For one, as her caregiver, her not telling me things about her health means I can’t do my job properly, meaning we lose time to address any concerns right away. Not telling me for five weeks meant we’d already lost at least five weeks to treat it.
We’ve argued about this frequently. There have been a few instances over the past six years where she knowingly cut her toe or foot and then didn’t tell me until days later about it, thinking it might be infected. She is diabetic, so a cut on her feet can be incredibly dangerous. It’s a constant stressor for me, her not telling me these things. Now, she’d done it with something even more severely concerning.
Two, we had just seen her regular doctor a couple of weeks ago, who had even mentioned she was due for another mammogram. My mom knew at that appointment that something was wrong but didn’t mention it or even ask me to step out of the room if she didn’t want to say anything in front of me.
Lastly, her making that comment and me knowing my mom as well as I do, she was being avoidant and blaming me for not saying anything. I told her that and how that hurt me that she would make that justification, knowing full well that she intended not to say anything.
Struggling With the Thought of Her Not Telling Me
This was one of the most challenging moments to deal with, aside from the thought of my mom having cancer. Looking back I worry about how things would be right now, if she hadn’t told me that day.
If she had never said anything and then got sick out of nowhere, and it was too late to treat it at that point, I would have been left with the guilt of all that – guilt about not taking care of her well enough and about her not wanting to tell me because she didn’t want to address it or not wanting me to worry. Given our situation, I didn’t feel it was fair for her to say that. I’m responsible for her well-being.
When I told her that, she actually admitted that she was putting the excuse on me and my anxiety because she wanted to ignore it. It wasn’t even entirely because she didn’t want to upset me or affect my mental health. She didn’t want to do anything about it, didn’t want me to do anything about it, didn’t want to be bothered by it, and didn’t want to change anything about her life. She had been ready to just accept it and let whatever happened happen without saying a word to anyone.
And that in itself was heartbreaking. But I am grateful she eventually told me so we could start caring for it and help her get better.
A Quick Note About the Caregiver Perspective
In case the last section felt harsh, I want to clarify that I don’t mean to shame my mom in any way. Despite my anger about everything, I forgive her and give her grace.
Instead, I share all of this because it’s the truth, the reality of what happened, and I don’t want to sugarcoat anything. I can only imagine how many people have similar stories that might relate to this particular situation. It’s difficult having someone you love choose to shut you out, try and suffer something alone, or feel like giving up entirely.
I’ve learned that cancer is nothing like what we see in movies or television. Those scenes don’t correctly prepare you for the instances where someone you love tries to hide an illness. Even getting a diagnosis in real life is nothing like the depiction we see. The emotions and scenarios aren’t conveyed in the same way. It’s much more raw and intricate than that. It’s much more personal.
I want to share this experience so others might not feel so alone. Because there are a lot of people my age taking care of aging, ill, and/or disabled parents, people who are caregivers feel alone in their experience. From speaking with other family caregivers, it’s not unusual to feel guilt or shame for needing help or feel they aren’t doing enough while carrying the world on their shoulders and caring for the people they love. Especially when the person you care for struggles to comprehend that you even love them and want to see them happy and healthy. (Depression is a beast in that manner).
So, this article is about both of our experiences because cancer affects everyone – the person with the diagnosis and the people around them – in many ways.
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The Initial Diagnosis
After it was confirmed she had breast cancer, my mom had to do a bunch of extra tests. She got an MRI, a PET scan, ultrasounds, biopsies, and more over the next couple of weeks. By the first week of June, the oncologist informed us that she has Stage 4, triple-negative breast cancer. It is in both of her breasts, as well as the lymph nodes of her armpit and in her lung.
It is the most aggressive form of breast cancer, apparently. But, it is also the most responsive to treatment. So, it was a double-edged sword of sorts, as her doctor explained. He was very optimistic, which threw us off.
Again, this is another thing that cancer scenes in the media set you up for in terms of expectations. When he said stage 4, we were all sitting there thinking that meant my mom was basically on the verge of death. It was terrifying, especially how easily he had said it. It wasn’t like movies where people are in a solemn meeting with the doctor in their office, where they’re told they have X number of months or years left.
Our Experience of Getting That Information
We were in a regular doctor’s exam room, and somehow, he made it sound as if stage 4 wasn’t as dire as we were led to believe. He didn’t give any estimates of time or anything; he just gave a rundown of the treatment plan. He talked about how after it goes away, assuming it responds to the chemo, my mom would go to surgery, and then how they’d monitor her over the years.
When we expressed our relief about the prognosis, he said that cancer wasn’t always the death sentence it used to be. The drugs used to fight it had significantly improved, and outlooks were much better than before!
And, I suspect, it’s better for a patient’s mental health to have such a positive outlook about the treatment instead of going into it thinking negatively. People might give up before they even begin.
In fact, the bluntest thing he mentioned during the entire appointment was that my mom would lose her hair. It was almost weird how he made everything else feel so optimistic by comparison of tone. It was unexpected, after going in prepared to be told the worst.
A Hiccup Before Treatment
After some more tests, my mom was scheduled to start chemotherapy in the second week of July.
Then, we all caught COVID two days before her first chemo session, and her treatment was delayed. In retrospect, this was probably for the best, as she would have started her first week of chemo during the heatwave when we saw 120 degrees. Meaning we got to stay inside the entire week while that oppressive heat strangled everyone and everything. The thought of having to get into the car and drive to and from treatment, in that heat, sounds wretched. And, if she had started chemo any sooner, she would have then had to stop treatment to recover from COVID. So it all worked out for the best.
The universe is funny like that.
My Mom’s Cancer Journey So Far
How She’s Feeling About the Treatment
After we all recovered from COVID-19, my mom did her first chemotherapy the last week of July. And so far, I’m thrilled to report that she has been doing very well! In fact, she is responding incredibly well to the treatment, and the large mass in her breast has shrunk significantly!
Aside from some fatigue and diarrhea, she has not had any major side effects from the treatment. Which is relieving because of how they made it sound when they went over everything before she began, we were really worried she was going to deteriorate very severely. But, like the effectiveness of the treatment itself, the medicine has improved to help with things like nausea and appetite. She’s maintained her appetite and hasn’t felt all that sick.
She’s actually become “bored,” as she’s put it, because things are going so well. She expected more to be happening, even though “more” would have entailed worse side effects. Another of her silly quirks, being bored with good progress. I’m happy the most she seems to feel is boredom with everything, as opposed to what was described to us initially with what to expect. If that’s the worst thing she’s worried about, that feels fortunate. I’ll take it.
Losing Her Hair
As her doctor stated, though, she began losing her hair. It was slight at first before we started noticing hair mixed with dog hair around the house when I was sweeping. And then, it became large clumps we were finding everywhere.
She’d never worried about the hair loss, expecting it from the start. She’s never been overly worried about her hair in general, anyway. So it wasn’t a huge deal to her when she decided to shave her head last week.
She felt it was finally time to get it over with. So my friend, who’s a hair stylist, came over and lovingly shaved my mom’s head. It seems to be a weight off her shoulders, even if it’s weird not feeling hair there anymore.
And in a weird way, it was a strange relief for me. I was worried about what emotions I’d feel about it (I cried the first time my dad ever shaved his beard when I was little) and was surprised to feel that relief. At that moment, I realized that watching her hair fall out in patches over the last few months had been upsetting because it made it look like she was deteriorating rapidly before me.
Even when she was doing well, she looked so fatigued and ill. I realized that was scaring me to watch. It made me worried and sad to see my mom appear to fall apart slowly. It’s difficult seeing a parent experience that. But once she decided to shave her head, it was like the sun came out. I don’t know how to describe it. She looked happier and healthier in that moment. And it made me happy to see her happy. It was like getting my mom back.
Going Through Chemotherapy
A Change of Pace
Every week now, my mom goes to chemo. I drop her off, and my sister picks her up. It’s a nice arrangement with the extra benefit of getting the house to myself for a couple of hours a week. (With my mom being disabled, she doesn’t go out much unless I’m taking her somewhere, or she has the energy to take the Paratransit bus somewhere, which isn’t often, meaning she’s always home. Living in a tiny house, it can feel like everyone is on top of each other, and not much room to breathe sometimes. And I like to deep clean when I’m alone.) So it’s worked out well so far!
My mom’s a social butterfly, so she gets to talk to people while at chemo and sees my sister more often than before. I am grateful for this, as I’ve been very much on my own taking care of my mom, so I’m happy my sister finally took the initiative to help out. It’s all I’ve ever asked of her before, and though I’m upset it took our mom getting a cancer diagnosis to change that, I’m thankful that it finally did change. My mom has been much happier and more active these past few months than I’ve seen her in the last six years.
Her Progress So Far
And, I’m happy to report my mom just finished her first major round of chemo! She has two rounds left, and because she’s been doing so well on the current regimen, her doctor actually wants to keep her on the current mix of medications. The next round is usually incredibly harsh, introducing a different drug they use nicknamed “The Red Devil” because it wrecks people taking it.
So because she’s doing well, the cancer is shrinking quickly, and he doesn’t want to derail her health and progress, he’s keeping her on the current treatment plan. If things continue to go well, she should be finished with chemo either by the end of this year or the beginning of next year it sounds like. Then, she’ll go for surgery, immunotherapy, and hopefully complete remission. Of course, they will keep a very close eye on her after all of that, given the type of cancer she has.
My Mom’s Changed Outlook on Life
Since her diagnosis, my mom’s outlook on life has significantly changed and improved, which is both surprising and delightful!
You see, my mom has suffered severe depression her whole life. Before she became disabled, she’d already begun checking out of life long before and allowed her health to deteriorate. She wasn’t seeing the doctor, eating healthy, staying on top of her medication, or taking care of herself. When I became her caregiver, that changed because I was here to help manage that for her. She started seeing the doctor regularly, was on top of her medications again, and because we cook at home most nights, she was eating healthier.
It wasn’t easy and is still a constant struggle because she doesn’t like feeling “parented” by her daughter. And in general, she doesn’t like being told what to do or feeling like she doesn’t have control of her life. But when your parent is diabetic and has health issues, you don’t have a choice unless you want to watch them wither away before your eyes, even if they don’t care that they are. Now that she has cancer, that’s even more solidified.
She has told me before that if it wasn’t for me, she probably would have died years ago from any number of health issues. Which, if I’m being honest, really doesn’t make me feel good. It makes me feel like a crutch, and a crutch can break under too much pressure, which terrifies me. “Will I break under the pressure?” I wonder. It hasn’t been easy, trying not to break. Yet here I still am, six years later, holding the both of us together, with gum and spit it seems most days.
Turning Over That New Leaf
When she first got the diagnosis, I was very worried about what that would mean for her and her mental health. She’s been checked out of life and caring about herself or her health for a long time. Would the diagnosis accentuate that? Would she check out completely, and just give up and succumb to the illness without a fight?
At first, it seemed that way. But then, to our surprise, she decided that no, she was going to “do the damn thing” and give chemotherapy and the treatments a chance.
She was actually excited about it and looked at it as a fun little experiment to subject herself to. She was interested in seeing how chemo would affect her. And with that excitement and the total lifestyle change that cancer inevitably heralds, she’s actually feeling much more positive and less depressed lately! She wants to go out more, be more active, and do more things. Most importantly, she is feeling better overall!
Weirdly, it seems that her diagnosis has almost been a blessing in disguise for her. She wants to travel when she’s recovered and be more active. It’s a beautiful thing to witness her change in such a way. She’s truly been inspirational to watch in how she’s handled everything.
Hiccups in the Treatment
While things have been going very well, there have been a few instances where treatment has been delayed so far. She’s had to miss a couple of infusions here and there due to her hemoglobin levels fluctuating and being too low to do the treatment safely. But that’s otherwise been managed pretty well.
My mom actually really enjoys and looks forward to going to her infusions, which apparently comes as a surprise to most people. She views it as her “me-time,” and she looks forward to sitting there talking with the nurses and writing letters and cards to people.
That’s actually why she recently got very upset with me for “derailing” her chemo for two weeks because I told the doctor that my mom mentioned she thought she had a bladder infection recently.
When she goes for her infusions, the nurses ask if there have been any changes to her medications, if she’s feeling any pain or having any symptoms, or anything different so that they can assess how the treatment is going and if anything needs to be addressed. This is for her safety and health. And as her caregiver, it’s my job to bring these things up if she doesn’t. So when the nurse asked the question, and my mom said nothing about the bladder infection, I brought it up, thinking maybe she forgot to mention it.
She instead got really mad at me for saying anything at all. She wanted to get her infusion, even though it wasn’t safe for her while having an infection. When I told the nurse, the nurse said they couldn’t do the infusion that day as we would instead have to go over to Quick Care to get antibiotics, which meant she also wouldn’t get treatment the following week because it’s not safe to do the treatment while on antibiotics. Besides, her blood test had come back with low hemoglobin levels again, and they would have denied treatment that day anyway.
Despite that last fact, my mom was mad at me for two weeks because I brought up the possible infection. This worries me because now I fear she won’t tell me things in the future and, in turn, put her health and life at risk because she doesn’t want to feel inconvenienced, feel like she’s lost control of things in her life, or feel like she’s losing her “me-time.”
She’s started treatment again, and she’s back to feeling good and isn’t as mad at me anymore, it seems, so things are “back to normal” for now.
Another Quick Note From the Caregiver Perspective
To anyone else going through the same or similar situation, know you’re not alone.
It’s a tricky balance being a caregiver for your parents sometimes. You don’t want to tell your mom or dad what to do or what they can’t do, and I definitely don’t want to parent my parent.
And I don’t want to be blamed for doing exactly what I’m supposed to. Or be blamed for not doing enough, should anything bad happen under my care, even if it’s not from a lack of trying. Some days, I have to fight the thought of “She’s an adult; she should be responsible for her own choices,” which, while a valid thought, would mean giving up and giving in, and I don’t want to. So, I continue to tow the thin line between trying to be helpful and trying not to seem like I’m parenting my mom.
Again, I share all this not to come off like I’m shaming my mom in any way. I know it’s difficult for her to feel like she’s losing control or losing her autonomy in a lot of ways. And I know it feels like a loss of autonomy when I “tell her what to do” about her health. I’m doing everything I can to make sure she’s happy and healthy. But I understand the resistance she feels.
I don’t have kids, but I can imagine it’s not easy for a parent to have to deal with their kid telling them, “Eat healthy,” or “You can’t eat that,” or “Why aren’t you telling the doctor about ____?” I get it. But the alternative is to let her do whatever she wants, and that’s not an option when she doesn’t take the best care of herself.
I wish I didn’t have to tell my mom these things. But, c’est la vie. It’s my job to keep her alive and healthy, and I’m going to keep doing my job, even when she doesn’t want me to. I can’t give up on her, especially when she might feel like giving up on herself. She’s my mom, and I love her. She did the best she could raising me, so I’m doing the best I can to care for her. I am responsible for her. This is my charge in life.
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Where We’re At
Working Out New Routines
Since those initial first few months passed, things have evened out. I think between May, June, and July, we went to more than 30 appointments. It was a lot. This is on top of her other regular appointments before her diagnosis. We were going to about two to four appointments any given week.
Now, things are more settled. She goes to chemo every week, sees her oncologist once a month, and so on. She seems happy and eager to be healthier than she seemed before. And with her current hopeful outlook on the treatment, we’re looking at her recovering and healing exceptionally well. And even though the whole situation at the moment isn’t what one might consider normal, it is our new normal, and we’re managing decently.
All of this is truly a relief. I was worried about what everything would look like in terms of my mom’s overall health and well-being, my own endurance to keep up with it all, as well as how her response to things would affect that endurance, both our mental health and our lives in general. I was worried I would crumble under the pressure of it all. And I still worry about the possibility that if something throws a wrench into everything, I might just collapse at any moment. It’s a lot of pressure. (I feel like Louisa from Encanto a lot of the time.)
Juggling Everything
On top of being a caregiver, I juggle my work with First Friday, growing the magazine, and taking care of other things in my life. I still have to clean and maintain the house, worry about healthy meals, and take care of a rambunctious almost three-year-old dog who is like a child to me. I have to ensure I make quality time for my partner, friends, and family. All while trying to maintain my own mental health, take care of my garden, and try to write, make art, or sometimes just simply feel like a person again. It isn’t easy.
For a while, I went back and forth on whether it was feasible to keep the magazine going. I still struggle with the thought sometimes. It’s like juggling a bunch of glass balls and knowing that they might start falling and shattering around me at some point.
Unfortunately, the magazine would be one of the first things to shatter if I can’t keep my endurance up. I run it by myself, out of my own pocket. If I’m not here to manage it, no one else is. And that scares me, the idea that everything I’ve built and worked so hard for could fall apart. I’m lucky to be here still, able to run things, even if it’s at a much slower pace than I’d like to be, because of shifted responsibilities and energy. So I cling to all this as tightly as I can. Whatever happens, I am grateful to everyone who has supported the magazine.
Managing Mental Health
I also went through a very antisocial phase for a bit during the summer. My friends and family worried about me because I stopped hanging out, and even kinda stopped talking to people. I was so overwhelmed that I shut down. Just reading a message drained me, let alone formulating a response. I still occasionally feel antisocial from the caregiver burnout. And, honestly, I lost myself in taking care of my mom these past few months, and the last couple of years, long before she got diagnosed.
But, I think as things have become more structured in her treatment and her outlook has been so good, I’ve been finding myself again, piece by piece. Some weeks my progress gets derailed, depending on how my mom is doing, what her mental health is, and so on. Coupled with the overall state of the world, it’s a challenge every day to try and do whatever my best looks like that day. Yet, I embrace the change and push through the stress, though I don’t know where the resilience comes from. (Especially when resilience is so exhausting.)
For now, we are doing okay. I don’t know what the future holds, but I remain hopeful and optimistic. And I hope that the next time I write about this topic, I will have even more good things to report amid the struggles of it all. I look forward to this time next year, when I can hopefully look back and say my mom beat cancer, has recovered from surgery, and is healing and doing wonderful!
Then, I can share her story of strength and resilience and how she is a kick-ass breast cancer warrior!
A Quick Show of Gratitude
I want to close by sharing my gratitude. I am grateful to be surrounded by so much support. Without it, I would have fallen apart ages ago. I fear what that would have meant for my mom if I couldn’t handle this anymore.
My partner especially has been my rock during all this. I don’t know if I’d have managed everything so well without him. My friends have also been a huge support system, with their patience and understanding. I am grateful of them for providing space to discuss the difficulties of everything over the months and years. And I want to give a shout-out to my boss, who has been incredibly supportive and empathetic throughout everything.
To that point in particular, I can’t express how much of a weight off your shoulders it is to have job security in this situation. If I were still working at my old job, I can’t say that I would have had the same experience. I would have either been fired for not being able to maintain a consistent schedule or quit from the pressure of working under people who were not supportive. Instead, I get the work flexibility to take my mom to her appointments and work from home most of the time. That support goes a long way. So, I’m incredibly fortunate to be in this situation in the way that I am.
I’m fortunate to have this support system. I’m fortunate that my mom is doing so well with her treatment. And I’m fortunate to have new outlooks on life in a myriad of ways.
An Accurate Foretelling
Lastly, I wanted to share one last thing I’m grateful for. At the beginning of the year, I got a tarot reading at a work event. I was told that something significant would happen in my life at the end of May. I would be given an opportunity for growth and maturity. And I sure was.
I am not the same person I was at the beginning of May, before my mom’s diagnosis, before I turned 30, and before I understood the intricacies of going through something like this. I’m already a different person in many ways. And I’ll be a different person at the end of it.
So, I am also grateful for the opportunity to become these new versions of myself, while I take this journey with my mom.
#GetinMotion for Breast Cancer Awareness Month
Breast cancer is a scary thing, but it isn’t the end of the world. With it being breast cancer awareness month, please take the time to reduce your own risk or the risk of those around you.
Self-Exams
For one, regardless of gender, do monthly exams of your own breast tissue to check for any lumps, dimples, or other changes and abnormalities. And I say regardless of gender because breast cancer doesn’t only affect women; men get breast cancer too. In fact, they might be more likely to die from it, because they don’t check for it. Anyone can develop it. So check yourself! Especially if your family has a history of breast cancer. And, if you’re in the age range for it or have increased risk factors, get regular mammograms done.
I myself have implemented monthly checks. When I get my own “me day” and get to pamper myself, I spend some time familiarizing myself with my breasts and do a “titty check” while soaking in the bath. I have fibrous breasts, which means I have to be especially aware of things and changes.
I should have started doing it years ago, but better late than never! If my mom had been doing monthly checks, she might have caught her own lump earlier on, when it was first growing. Though I don’t know if that would have changed the timeline of things. But, catching an abnormality early makes a huge difference.
Check out this guide from the National Breast Cancer Foundation!
Prevention
Identify ways in your life where you can work on your health. Diet, exercise, and self-care practices go a long way in preventing breast cancer, and cancer in general. It’s never too late to build good habits to take better care of your body and health!
Find a Support Group
Lastly, if you’re currently dealing with breast cancer or are a breast cancer survivor, check out Las Vegas Breast Cancer Warriors! I wrote an article about this amazing local support group earlier this month, which you can read here. They offer a lot of resources and host a bunch of fun events for people with breast cancer and breast cancer survivors!
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