will be diagnosed with breast cancer in their lifetime, and each is so much more than a statistic. Every Monday during Breast Cancer Awareness Month, we'll be chronicling the journey of one Black mother and survivor as she navigates the uncertainty of breast cancer in these uncertain times.
When I arrived for my exam, the hospital parking lot was eerily empty. There was an attendant standing at the main entrance to take my temperature. Once I was deemed fever-free, I was required to sanitize my hands. I explained to the attendant that I only use natural sanitizer; she was visibly irritated and barked that I had to use the hospital’s. I explained that I am a cancer survivor, going for my annual cancer screening, and would rather not use their sanitizer but am happy to use my own.
My breast surgeon ordered an MRI of my chest and genetic testing for 48 types of cancer. Given my history of breast cancer, these tests were ordered to rule out any cancerous tumors or lesions that may have been undetected. The genetic test was saliva based and I was able to complete that at home: I followed the instructions, sealed the package, and dropped it at the overnight courier.
Masked up, freezing cold, and in discomfort, I closed my eyes and hoped the process would end quickly. It did not. If any of the doctors had asked, I would have said, “I’m scared, frustrated, tired, worried.” I remember the PTSD I suffered after chemo ravaged me and left me with an 80-pound, lifeless body. The palpable sadness that I felt during and after my 2014 diagnosis and treatment started to feel heavy.
abusulayman Every cancer treatment changed?