Cancer. A word that many have heard of, but when received as a diagnosis, the magnitude of such a phrase is life-altering, especially for the person it preys upon. And in the United States, the possibility of receiving this diagnosis has become a frequent likelihood with the CDC declaring that about 240,000 cases of breast cancer are diagnosed in women each year.

For many families, cancer doesn’t seem all that unfamiliar, especially with mine. I would like for you to meet Marie. This is my grandmother who is 85 years old and 11 years free of breast cancer. With permission to retell this experience, here is her story:

Before reading, I must preface that sensitive material will be discussed. Please read at your own discretion. 

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On what seemed like a regular day in January 2012, my grandmother decided to perform a self-exam for breast cancer after being reminded by those pesky awareness commercials that are on constant repeat. Before taking a shower, she found a lump on her right side. A lump that prompted urgent action: contacting doctors and having to go through ongoing tests. 

That previous December, after her regular mammogram screenings, the doctors seemed certain in affirming that everything was fine. But surely, it wasn’t. 

At the age of 74, my grandmother was diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. In this world, there exists no word that shocks the body quite like that of “cancer.” A word that creates this everlasting pit at the bottom of one’s stomach. A word that can tear a family apart. A word that I never wish upon any person, especially my grandmother. 

As an 11 year old at this time, I never fully grasped what cancer was and how devastating it could be. All I knew of, was its negative connotation. I remember hearing words like “radiation,” “therapy,” and “chemo” in frequent conversations, but I never associated them with my grandmother because these things aren’t supposed to happen to your loved ones. At least, that’s what I was told. 

March had rolled around, and my grandmother was scheduled for a double-mastectomy. Having lost her sister to breast cancer, she chose to eliminate any parts of herself that could allow this deadly monster to spread. To avoid the worry of a future, repeated diagnosis, she opted for the removal of both breasts on the 8th. 

The person who my grandmother was before her double-mastectomy, is different from the one that cancer had its toll with. A person who not only feels detached from womanhood, but also from herself. 

One of my grandmother’s most defining features is her curls. If you know my grandmother, it’s a fact that she’s always rocked a gravity-defying perm. From as early as I can remember, every time she would walk out of our neighborhood hair salon, everyone knew it was Marie with that big, sky-high perm. 

And ever so quickly, chemotherapy took this away from my grandmother. 

As if it were yesterday, I can vividly recall the moment when my grandmother interfered with this image by chopping off her curls. Returning home from an appointment with that same salon, I waited in support of my grandmother as this was a painful step; a choice that didn’t lie in her hands but was rather dictated by cancer’s course of action. 

At first, I remember it being difficult to stare at my grandmother for a long duration of time. Because in my mind, this “new” person didn’t register as my grandmother. My 11- year old self couldn’t imagine that, being the same person who rocked a huge perm. But what I finally recognized was what cancer could do to a person- my grandmother was living proof. 

For a long time thereafter, my grandmother struggled with losing the part of herself that made her feel like a woman. But after finding a community of women who share a similar experience in regard to their breast cancer journey, she no longer felt alone. The atmosphere of women braving through chemotherapy, developed a sense of community and allowed my grandmother to rediscover who she was- a woman with a purpose. 

Although breast cancer is a large portion of my grandmother’s story, she never harps on how challenging the experience was, but rather stresses the importance of women getting screened for breast cancer. When questioned about what she would say to those fearful of getting screened, Marie replied, “Don’t mess around and get it done. The longer you wait, the worse you’ll be.”

According to Susan G. Komen, women in the U.S. have a 1 in 8 (or about 13%) lifetime risk of getting breast cancer. I strongly encourage women around the age of 40 to take the advice of Marie and start their yearly screenings for breast cancer. Although it may seem daunting at first, taking this initiative is helping reduce the number of women who fall victim to this common, yet deadly disease. 

Let Marie’s story be a testament that the diagnosis of breast cancer is not the end, but rather the means to seek a new chapter in your health journey. Choose to prioritize your health, and with that decision, your family will forever be grateful that you made the choice to stick around. Even at her ripe age, Marie jokingly shared, “I’m still here at 85, so get it done.” 

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If you feel comfortable with doing so, I encourage you to perform an at-home self exam. The National Breast Cancer Foundation provides thorough instructions for conducting a breast-self exam with insightful images and a video. And if you find a lump, it is suggested that you schedule an appointment with your doctor. Although easier said than done, please do not panic. Remember, you are not alone.  

And Mom-Mom, if you are reading this article which I am absolutely sure you are, thank you for sharing your story and allowing me, your grand-daughter, to tell it! Your cancer journey was long and enduring, but nevertheless, it is telling of your character and who you are. 

Kaitlyn Cross is a fourth-year English student minoring in Creative Writing and Marketing/Management. She is currently working with Tri-Lite for an internship.