Nothing could have prepared me for the shock of hearing, at age 35, that I had breast cancer.
One day in the early summer of 1993, I noticed a lump in my right breast. I had two immediate but rather contradictory reactions: “this can’t be anything” and “this has to get checked out”.
I actually put the matter out of my mind until an already-scheduled routine doctor’s appointment about two weeks later, not being willing to even process the notion that there could really be a problem. But that appointment was to change the course of my life’s journey for quite some time.
