A personal message from Insight host Vicki Gonzalez:
There’s really no way to ease into this. At least not for me. So, here we go.
Two days after my 40th birthday, I found a lump in my breast. I went to the doctor the very next day. And that discovery expanded into six biopsies across both breasts — which I learned is quite a lot.
When the doctor called with the results they said it was a mixed diagnosis.
But the headline that immediately shaped my life is that I have breast cancer that spread to my lymph nodes.
And what has followed is a whirlwind of information showing how ignorant and naïve I was about the second most common type of cancer facing women in the United States.
I learned that upwards of 85% of breast cancer diagnoses have no family history. I was shocked when I found that out. Frankly, I had a false sense of security when it came to breast cancer — because of my age and also because breast cancer doesn’t run in either side of my family.
Plus, according to health guidelines the earliest I could get a breast cancer screening is at 40 years old.
I am supposedly “healthy” on paper. Free of underlying health conditions, normal lab work, a strong immune system, I consider myself athletic, as well as make space for community and my mental wellbeing.
Initially after I found the lump, I actually thought about putting off the checkup to a time that was more convenient. I mean, I was coming off a birthday weekend. I was reassured by loved ones that it’s normal to have benign masses from time to time. I’m too young to have breast cancer. Plus I’m so healthy. And I believed it.
When I expressed to the doctor that my diagnosis felt rare given my age and health, they quickly interjected and went on to explain that every week they have people in their 20s and 30s getting diagnosed with breast cancer.
Every week.
The reality is that a convenient time doesn’t really exist. This eviscerates inconvenient. Period. It’s invasive (even when a procedure is medically described as “minimal”). It’s traumatic. And scary. Yet, instead of choosing the lower common denominator of fear and avoidance, I knew the only way out is through. And I’m proud of that.
I’m also proud that I shared it with people I care about. My reflex was to keep it in a vault, lodged in some dark, discreet corner in my body. But choosing vulnerability has eased the anxiety-inducing uncertainty facing my body and life. The weight of this moment carries an ironic capacity of also serving as a reminder of the beautiful warmth of support that surrounds me, if I allow it in.
Health care can be excruciatingly frustrating and expensive for too many people. And the weight of barriers is often scaled according to a societal formula of income, class, race, ethnicity, immigration status, language, ableism, as well as sexual and gender identity. It can be far from an environment that nourishes putting your health first.
I am sharing my cancer diagnosis with a larger message: When possible, get screenings and checkups. Urge the same of loved ones. Talk about it. And please, advocate for yourself if something feels off. Even bring the compassionate backup of a loved one who can ask questions you might not think of and take notes while you’re just trying to take it all in, as the flood of information tries to swallow you up whole.
Breast cancer will not become my dark tunnel. I face this knowing there is still a great deal to look forward to in my life. And I soak in all the warmth and beauty and love there is to offer. So much love.
So this is where I say goodbye, for now. I am in good hands.
Talk soon.
Insight will continue airing Monday through Thursday live at 12 p.m. with a rebroadcast at 7 p.m. You can also find Insight wherever you get your podcasts.
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