The day life stood still: Our author got breast cancer at the age of 27 - here she tells her story
and I have something in common. No, unfortunately not the full ones. What we have in common is a genetic defect that is responsible for giving its carrier an 80 percent chance of developing breast cancer over the course of her life. Angelina's advantage: She knew it and was able to take preventative measures. My disadvantage: I didn't know. And so I became one of every eight people to be diagnosed in their lifetimereceives.
“Why should I have cancer when I’m young and healthy?”
My story begins in 2016 and ironically in October – Breast Cancer Awareness Month. I was 27, had recently started my second degree, and was in a happy place, spent a lot of time with my friends and had exactly the carefree attitude that you have in your 20s.
Everything changed when I changed my gynecologist and had my first appointment with my new gynecologist. As part of the precaution, she of course also felt my breasts and suddenly said: “Please lie down, there’s something there”. She turned on the ultrasound machine and there it was: black and knotty. I refrained from asking myself if it was cancer because it seemed kind of silly. Why should I, young and healthy, suddenly have cancer?
She also examined the second one on suspicion, but couldn't find it. She therefore discharged me from the practice with a referral to a breast center for a diagnostic evaluation.
This is where the full program began: mammography, ultrasound and ultimately a punch biopsy. The doctor found lumps in both breasts, from which samples were taken. Yes, and two days later I got a call: the results of the biopsy were there and I was asked to come straight to the practice.
So that day, at age 27, I was told I had cancer in both breasts. Very nasty and very fast growing. Incidentally, it is very rare that both breasts are affected, because in only one percent of cases the cancer has already affected both breasts when it is first diagnosed.
I was in shock. Unfortunately, the doctor was completely unempathetic. I asked her if I would die from it and she replied that we all have to die at some point, and whether I would die from this cancer, she couldn't tell me now.
The plan: push through and survive
The machinery started faster than I could see. We drove to my gynecologist, who welcomed me very well and made an appointment for me at the hospital that same day. Further examinations were carried out there and I met great doctors. This is where the first real enlightenment finally took place.
My cancer was a triple-negative breast cancer with a 90 percent division rate. Only about 15 percent of all breast cancer patients have triple-negative breast cancer. It is considered highly aggressive, forms metastases quickly and is generally associated with a poor prognosis. Unlike hormonal breast cancer, where there is the option of anti-hormone or antibody therapy, the only weapon against triple-negative cancer is strong chemotherapy.
And I got it quickly. But first I was examined from head to toe to check whether metastases had already formed. Luckily not! Only the lymph nodes were affected, which isn't cool either, but it still makes healing possible.
Since the cancer had already spread to my lymph nodes, I was allowed to take part in a study and was supposed to receive a cytostatic drug (chemo) that was not yet approved for breast cancer, which sounded really promising. So far, so good, I thought up to this point: Roar at them. Push through and survive – that was my plan.
I don't think I need to mention how terrible everything has been up to this point - mineand telling my friends that I was terminally ill and how scared I was myself. From one second to the next I experienced firsthand how fragile life is - how fragile MY life is. That it is not natural to grow old and maybe not even live to see my thirtieth birthday.
A new era began. The ones before and those after cancer.
I was really lucky in “my” chemo clinic. The oncologist assigned to me was very nice. I was supposed to have chemotherapy every week for 18 weeks. I was very scared before the first session. From now on, would I just hang out on the sofa puking like you see in movies? Spoiler: I didn't puke once. Rather the opposite: the cortisone often made me incredibly hungry.
I tolerated the chemo surprisingly well and since we were a really fun group of women in the chemo outpatient clinic, the time in the practice always went by quickly. We really shouldn't have been listened to: we often joked that after chemo we would have oneand bake muffins with a hidden almond. The person who would find the tonsil – i.e. the golden tumor – would then be “given” a mammogram. This is probably the gallows humor that everyone always talks about.
It only started to get really ugly when I started to feel itfailed. That was bad for me. One evening I wanted to go to the Christmas party at my old job, but my hair just fell off my head. My friend shaved off my remaining hair that same evening. I cried a lot during it. But luckily I had already prepared for this eventuality and got myself a wig.
To be honest, I don't know how I would have managed these early days without the support of my boyfriend (spoiler: now-husband). He was by my side at all times, took me to every chemotherapy treatment, was present at every doctor's consultation, asked the right questions and carried me when I could no longer hold myself up.
Fate really is a damned traitor
At some point during this period I found out that I had a germline mutation and that I was a BRCA1 carrier. This means that my cancer was caused by a genetic defect. A genetic defect is responsible for around five to ten percent of all breast cancer cases. And he's dragging a rat's tail behind him. Because not only my breasts, but also my ovaries should be removed when I turn 35. Because with this defect, the risk of developing other types of cancer is much higher.
Apart from the usual side effects, I felt fine under the circumstances. I was even able to attend a lecture at the university and meet up with my friends. We often went on little “trips” to the. That went quite well for a while and I gained new strength. But then I developed a high fever and shortness of breath. I had an allergic reaction to the chemo drug that manifested itself as severe pneumonia. I was in the hospital for ten days. Afterwards I was supposed to receive a new chemo drug, but first my tumors were measured. I had really high expectations for this appointment because I knew from some patients that they often had nothing visible on the ultrasound halfway through chemo.
However, when the doctor used the ultrasound machine on me and the tumor was visible, I felt sick. “It’s grown,” I shouted. And I was right. Both tumors had grown larger despite chemotherapy.
That was bad - no, not just bad, it was a disaster with triple-negative breast cancer. Did that mean that the cancer cells had now spread throughout my body despite chemo? I was scared out of my mind. Now we had to act – and quickly. The operation to remove the tumors was brought forward. Although it was clear that I should have a mastectomy - in which all of the breast tissue is removed - we initially decided on breast-conserving surgery because this procedure is much less complicated and the healing time is shorter. Because it was clear: I urgently needed to get new chemo because the old one didn't seem to have really impressed my cancer.
In the meantime, I also developed osteoporosis, which caused several vertebrae to collapse. I kept falling as the pain shot into my back like a knife. At some point I got a corset with which I could finally walk safely again.
New chemo, new happiness?
In terms of chemo, I started from scratch again. I had to undergo 18 weeks of chemotherapy again. In addition to being hospitalized again, I also lost my sense of smell and taste and the amount of cortisone left me completely bloated. Not only did I feel miserable - I looked miserable too. Every time I looked in the mirror, cancer was staring back at me.
At the last chemo session, my friends surprised me with balloons, cake, and posters, which made it more of a party. Now “only” the mastectomy with silicone construction was left. So I had all of my breast tissue removed and replaced with silicone implants.
But for anyone who thinks that everything ends well, let me tell you: Unfortunately, we are not there yet.
Because even during my stay in rehabilitation, I had an uneasy feeling. And unfortunately that was confirmed just two days after my return. The cancer was back - or maybe it had never really gone away. I had a tumor in my armpit from which 18 lymph nodes had been removed just a few months earlier. It was now clear that the second, torturous chemo treatment had not done what it was supposed to: destroy all the remaining cancer cells.
The second diagnosis was almost worse than the first. I had given everything, had (almost) always been positive and confident and then this. Was fate actually trying to screw me up here?
After much back and forth, the doctors decided that I should only have surgery and then radiation. And so I dutifully drove to the radiation treatment every day and still tried to regain my normal life little by little.
Light at the end of the tunnel – and a small, big miracle
Shortly beforeI was finally finished with cancer treatment. My scars slowly healed and my hair came back. With my “chemo curls” I looked like Atze Schröder, but I was happy. So, so happy.
Of course I was still afraid of metastases, but miraculously they stayed away. Although I had to have follow-up care every three months, I was able to breathe a sigh of relief every time.
And then something happened that no one would have expected: two years after my diagnosis, I became pregnant unplanned. And as if that wasn't a gift enough, I had twins in May 2018. Today they are 2 ½ years old and there is a new era: before the children and since the children.
So, if you've read this far, I would like to ask one thing: pick up the phone, make an appointment for preventative care and check yourself regularly. Because this precaution can save (your) life!
