Interview with a Breast Cancer Survivor
Breast cancer affects millions of women. As of January 2021, approximately 3.8 million women in the U.S. have been treated for or diagnosed with the disease. It is the second most common cancer in women, and while mortality has decreased about 1% per year, lung cancer remains the leading cause of cancer death. These statistics are familiar—we see them shared to promote early detection and self-exams. What we rarely hear about is everything that happens around a diagnosis: the emotions, decisions, supports, and gaps in care.
Interview with a Breast Cancer …
Recently, I interviewed my friend Colleen, a midwife in the Pacific Northwest, about her experience. She’s on call year-round, a fierce advocate for women’s health, and someone who doesn’t shy away from hard truths. When she received her diagnosis in October 2016, she felt a rush of unfamiliar emotions—panic, fear—and, in her words, irritation that life would not pause to accommodate cancer.
The Moment of Diagnosis
Colleen remembers learning her results in a way that left her scrambling for information and feeling unsupported by the radiologist who delivered the news. “It’s hard to hear something so difficult,” she recalls, “and the condescension didn’t help.” Soon after, her primary care practitioner helped her secure an early consult with Dr. Winnie Henderson at Oregon Surgical Wellness. That access—unusual before a final pathology—felt like a gift of professional relationships and advocacy within women’s health.
Not everyone has those advantages. Many encounter brusque communication, complex systems, and limited guidance. Even with professional knowledge, Colleen still faced challenges that linger today.
Support Systems Matter
Q: What support helped you the most?
Colleen: “I brought a colleague to appointments who could hear what I wasn’t ready to. My best friend helped me navigate treatment options. My husband and my teenage kids were there. A mentor came to clean my house and give my husband breaks from caregiving. It felt strange to accept help, but I’m forever grateful.”
The Silent Gap: Mental Health Care
Q: Did anyone offer mental health support?
Colleen: “Someone handed me a folder with resources at some point, but no one truly talked with me about support. At checkups, they’d ask the standard ‘Are you depressed?’ I’d say, ‘A little,’ and then we moved on.”
Colleen describes herself as a “hard candidate” for counseling based on past experiences. She’s relied on self-reflection, reading, and the personal growth that comes with her midwifery work.
My note to readers: Mental health care is not a luxury—it’s a pillar of healing. Build a network you can lean on: a therapist, a cancer coach or patient navigator, a support group, a partner who can attend appointments, and friends who can offer practical help. Save your energy for recovery; you don’t have to carry this alone.
Deciding on Treatment—and on Reconstruction
Q: What was it like to decide on treatment?
Colleen: “When I heard ‘mastectomy,’ I immediately booked a consult with a reconstructive surgeon. At the appointment, I felt as if I was hearing a list of everything that could be ‘fixed.’ I had just begun to make peace with my aging body. Afterward my best friend said, ‘Maybe you don’t do reconstruction.’ I felt my whole body relax. I was at peace.”
Society often scripts a narrow vision of femininity—two symmetrical breasts and a small waist. Real femininity is not a measurement; it’s an energy, a presence, a way of relating to ourselves and others. For many, rejecting that script can be liberating.
Living with the Decision
Q: Nearly five years post-surgery, how do you feel about your choice?
Colleen: “The practical challenges are real—bras aren’t designed for one-breasted bodies. That affects how I feel in my skin. Sometimes I wonder if taking the other breast would make daily life simpler. I once went to a specialty shop and left feeling anxious and unheard. I never went back.”
Choosing against reconstruction can be empowering—and complicated. Without proactive resources and guidance, practical hurdles can amplify grief and body image concerns. None of these feelings are wrong; they’re human. Name them. Notice what triggers them. Meet them with compassion.
What I Want Readers to Know
You are not alone. Your feelings—fear, anger, grief, relief—are valid.
Support is strategic. Ask someone to attend appointments, take notes, and advocate.
Mental health matters. Consider therapy or coaching tailored to cancer recovery, body image, intimacy, and identity.
Your body is not your enemy. It carried you here. Gratitude and gentle care are acts of reclamation.
Femininity and womanhood are not defined by surgery decisions. You remain whole.
It is a profound gift to move through the world in a body you can inhabit with love. If you’re navigating diagnosis, treatment, or life after, I would be honored to be part of your support team—helping you build the network, language, and practices that allow you not only to survive, but to thrive.
