Diagnosis Process | April 2026

Eight months after my initial imaging, I walked into the Saint Alphonsus Breast Care Center for a diagnostic mammogram and ultrasound, this time ordered by my primary care provider. She didn’t hesitate for a second when I told her what had been happening and how frustrated I’d been.

At the end of February, I started having sudden, sharp, stabbing pains in my left breast; so intense they would wake me from my sleep.

When I called to schedule imaging they couldn’t get me in for nearly a month. At the time, I didn’t realize how important it was to push harder for something sooner. Looking back, that hindsight could consume me if I let it, but I won’t.

April 10th I made my way to my much anticipated appointment.

They started with the mammogram. Afterward, I was placed in a waiting room and told the ultrasound tech would come get me in a couple of minutes. Instead, I sat there for nearly 15 minutes. I could hear multiple voices talking just outside, though I couldn’t make out what they were saying. I was the only patient in the clinic at the time.

Then the radiologist stepped in and apologized for the wait. She said the doctor wanted “a couple more special images.” That’s when my stomach dropped. I knew something wasn’t right.

Back in the mammogram room, she placed small metallic markers around the area where we could feel the lump. I was positioned in a couple of very uncomfortable ways while she took additional images. Then I was led back to the waiting room again, where the ultrasound tech came for me shortly after.

She brought me into a dim room and had me lie back with my arm above my head. She was incredibly kind, warm and gentle. She noticed in my chart that I had a baby in 2023, and she shared that she had one the same year. We talked about how wild and busy our two-year-olds are.

But as the ultrasound went on, I could feel it and something shifted. The energy in the room changed. She didn’t say anything or make it obvious, but I could see it in her eyes. My instincts knew before anyone said a word.

I remember wondering if she was thinking about her own child… what it would feel like to be in my position… and how awful it was holding information that was about to change someone’s life. Someone near her age, with a child as young as hers.

The machine shut off, and the doctor came in almost immediately. He pulled up a chair and sat next to me.

He told me it was time to have a serious conversation.

He explained that he could see four tumors, along with eight lymph nodes that didn’t look healthy. My ears started ringing. I felt like I might throw up. He said we needed to do a biopsy as soon as possible to confirm, but he was honest and direct. He told me there was a 98% chance the tumors were malignant (BI-RADS 5) and that it appeared to have spread to my lymph nodes.

I watched his eyes fill with tears as he told me he knew this was likely one of the worst days of my life. He said it was a hard day for him, too…. because there’s nothing easy about telling a 31-year-old mother she may have advanced breast cancer. He reassured me I was in good hands and that he would take care of me.

He handed me paperwork with my biopsy appointment. My mind was spinning. Just minutes earlier, my world had been one thing, and now it was something entirely different.

It was Friday. I had to wait four days.

I knew that weekend was going to be emotionally unbearable. I didn’t know how I was going to tell Cole… my mom… everyone who loves me.

But one thought came through louder than all the others: I have to survive this. I will survive this. I will watch my son grow up. I will be there for his milestones, his dreams and his life.

Max was at his great-grandparents’ house, so I drove straight to my mom’s. The moment I saw her, I broke. I felt like I was five years old again, collapsing into her arms and sobbing as I told her everything.

She held it together for me the way moms do. It didn’t matter that I’m 31, or that I’m a mom myself... I needed my mom, and she was there just like she’s always been.

She held me and told me I was going to be okay. That we would get through this together. She reminded me how strong I am, and that Max is going to be okay because I’m not going anywhere.

I told her I was scared. She said she was scared too, but that we would face it, no matter what it takes.

I hope I can be even half the mom she is.

I won’t go into every detail of telling everyone else… it was heavy, and it was a lot.

Waiting for Cole to call from the Department of Corrections was nearly unbearable. I had known since 9:30AM, and his call didn’t come until almost 2:00PM  

When I told him, I could hear him trying to stay strong. He told me how much he loves me, that he’s here no matter what, and that we would get through this. He said I’m the strongest person he knows… and that if anyone could beat this, it’s me.

That man loves me so deeply, the same way I love him. I don’t know what I did to deserve a husband like him.

The emotions that weekend were intense. The fear, the overwhelm, the irritability; it all surfaced in ways I didn’t expect.

But somehow, we made it through those 4 days.