Halting Wedding Plans to Fight for Life

By our very own, Lauren Bash

Twenty-seven year olds are supposed to go for job promotions, plan their weddings and enjoy life. I was planning my wedding, when I was rudely interrupted. I had recently found a cyst on my left breast, but when I went for a sonogram, they couldn’t find the cyst on the screen. However, they found something else. That pea-sized cyst saved my life.

It was two days before my best friend Jessica’s wedding and a couple days after my painful biopsy. My friends and family knew I’d been waiting for the results all week, but we were all convinced I would be okay. We prayed the disease wouldn’t take over my life, like it had my mom three years ago, when she was diagnosed with breast cancer. But here I was at the doctor’s office with my fiancé, receiving the diagnosis I prayed not to get. 

I had Ductal Carcinoma In Situ (DCIS) Stage 0. As soon as I heard the diagnosis, I felt sick, but I was relieved it was Stage 0. To me, this meant I would receive a lumpectomy and a low dose of chemotherapy or radiation and be done. I was sadly mistaken. My doctor explained to me that although the cancer was in my ducts, it had grown to be 10 centimeters. This meant that it started at my nipple and spanned all the way to my chest wall. Due to the size, a lumpectomy was out of the question.

The moment these words left my doctors mouth was when my world started caving in. I was supposed to get married in four months and was only 27. But I knew if I didn’t act fast, the cancer would invade my body before I knew it. 

After a full-on, warranted meltdown, I left the doctor’s office with a stack of information. I would have to get a full mastectomy to my left breast followed by reconstruction. If I never wanted to hear the words, “You have breast cancer” again, I was advised to have my other breast removed as well—along with multiple lymph nodes on either side to make sure the cancer had not spread. My diagnosis of treatment would come about a week after my surgery. All wedding plans were on hold. I was about to fight for my life. 

I decided quickly to have a double mastectomy with lymph node removal. The reconstruction process would start at the time of surgery by placing tissue expanders where my breasts once were. Each week, I would go to the plastic surgeon to have them expanded with saline in preparation for my eventual permanent implants. If I wanted a reconstructed nipple, that was another surgery.

Eight days after my surgery, I received the amazing news that I was cancer-free. The disease had not spread to my lymph nodes and the margin was clean. Tears of joy streamed down everyone’s faces. I think my doctor was a little teary eyed as well. I just dodged the biggest bullet that’s ever been shot at me. It was now time for emotional and physical recovery, which was harder than I ever imagined. Nothing will ever prepare you to go through an event like this, even with an army of loved ones behind you. 

I started the reconstruction process and decided to wait until after my wedding to have the final exchange surgery completed. My husband and I tied the knot October 28, my exchange surgery was on November 30 and the recovery time was longer than I expected. But here I am, trucking along with a new mission in life: to make other women aware of their bodies and not afraid of the word “cancer.” 

In hopes of helping other women my age going through similar experiences, I joined forces with a friend and recently started the nonprofit organization Fighting Pretty. We now have a way to help young women feel beautiful while going through treatment. In another effort to raise funds to end cancer once and for all, I participated in the American Cancer Society’s Making Strides Against Breast Cancer walk with my team Support Sisters. We raised over $10,000, and I also conquered my fear of public speaking by getting on stage and telling my story to a crowd of thousands. It wasn’t easy, but neither was fighting breast cancer. I’ve also completed another 5K and ran my first 10K.

Seeing two scarred lumps on my chest reminds me every day that I’m a survivor, but, oddly, I’m thankful for the hand I was dealt. It’s given me a new appreciation for each day and led the way for me to make a difference in other people’s lives. I kicked cancers butt and look forward to helping others fight too. In the grand scheme of things, breasts are just breasts. Our society place too much emphasis on the beauty of breasts, so when you receive a diagnosis of breast cancer—like so many women do every day—you feel like there is no hope for you. But there is. Mine are now fake because the real ones tried to kill me, and I feel sexier than I ever have before. Each day, I get stronger and continue to help other women. We’re in this fight together because, in the end, everyone needs great support for their boobies.

*This article was initially published in The Suburban Woman.