At 47, despite a wellness routine that included mushroom powder and collagen in my morning coffee, hiking, running, daily Pilates with weights, strictly organic and healthy meals, and a largely non-toxic home and beauty routine, I still felt like something was wrong.
I forgot everything that wasn’t written down, lost my hair and gained weight just by looking at food. I thought I was in the throes of perimenopause.
I wanted to anticipate anything suspicious, so I went to the doctor, but my tests always came back normal. I was told that my symptoms were probably a combination of stress and, yes, perimenopause.
I thought I was healthier than ever, doing all the right things, but as a mother of two, there was always the underlying fear of: what if it was something else?
As a journalist, I started researching preventive full-body MRIs and arranged a free scan with a popular company so I could write about my experience.
I thought at worst the test might reveal an autoimmune disease or deficits from all the drinking I had in my 20s.
Coincidentally, the night before my exam, I was taking a shower and felt a small bump on the side of my chest. This surprised me, but I thought it looked like a cyst.
I’d had one before and it felt the same: the size of a marble, not too hard, and it seemed to move when I touched it. I was especially grateful for the MRI the next day and wasn’t too worried because I didn’t have a family history of breast cancer.
The scan took less than an hour and was more comfortable than expected thanks to the Netflix shows I watched to take my mind off the fact that I was tightly packed in a metal tube. I took a blood test, stocked up on coconut water and snacks in the lobby, and the technician told me that if there was anything alarming, he would call me within 24 hours.
Once 24 hours had passed without news, I was certain that everything was fine.
When the doctor called to share the results a week later, she said she found a small (1.5 cm) “indeterminate lesion” on one of my breasts. Part of it was smooth and part of it had jagged edges (which you don’t want). The doctor didn’t seem too concerned but stressed that I needed to get it checked out.
It was a Friday and on Tuesday evening I was told I had breast cancer.
My doctor had done an emergency mammogram and ultrasound, and the radiologist was straightforward. She said: “We can’t confirm it 100% until you have a biopsy, but I look at your MRI, mammogram and ultrasound results, and I tell you you have cancer. »
She gave me a BI-RADS score of 5 (a breast cancer risk of 95% or greater).
She was very down to earth and pragmatic and I think that immediately helped me move on from my diagnosis.
She said it was small, it was early and she hadn’t seen any spread to my lymph nodes. She advised me to schedule the biopsy and get my paperwork in order so I could start treatment and get it out of the way.
She spoke as if getting rid of cancer was a task on my to-do list – and that’s exactly how I treated it from day one.
What gave me immense peace of mind was the fact that I knew there were no suspicious findings anywhere else in my body, thanks to the full body MRI.
I know there’s a lot of pushback against preventative and elective testing because it’s expensive and often leads to more unnecessary testing – and to be honest, I thought my article might go in that direction – but I’m grateful for mine. If I had followed the traditional route of seeing a doctor about the lump, then getting a mammogram, ultrasound, and breast MRI, it might have taken a lot longer to find out if the cancer had spread elsewhere in my body. And I’m not the first person to be diagnosed with cancer after having one of those full-body MRIs: Maria Menounos was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer after a mass was spotted on a Prenuvo scan, and Busy Philipps learned she had a brain tumor after having the same scan.
After my initial tests, I had a biopsy which revealed a hormone receptor positive HER2+ invasive ductal carcinoma. All-new vocabulary and acronyms that translate to a very aggressive, but very treatable, subtype of one of the most common types of breast cancer.
Additional ultrasounds, mammograms, biopsies and a breast MRI over a few months revealed a second tumor and the fact that this cancer was growing rapidly (my original tumor had already grown to 2.5 cm).
At this point, my doctor declared the cancer stage 2 and I immediately had to begin a year-long treatment plan that included 12 rounds of chemotherapy, surgery, radiation, HER2-targeted therapy every three weeks, followed by a daily hormone-blocking pill for 5-10 years.
I was blindsided by my diagnosis. I thought I was healthier than ever, had no family history of breast cancer, and had always advocated a toxin-free life. So how did I get here – currently 10 sessions of chemotherapy?
The more research I did, the more I learned about the highly established link between alcohol and breast cancer.
Obviously we know that alcohol isn’t good for us, but I didn’t know that excessive alcohol consumption could increase the risk of breast cancer by up to 52%, especially if much of that drinking took place before having children.
I have since learned that when we drink alcohol, it breaks down and damages our DNA, creating mutations that can become cancerous. Alcohol also produces more estrogen, which essentially attaches to these cancer cells and acts as fuel, causing them to multiply, grow and spread quickly – especially potent for hormone-positive breast cancer like mine, which is also on the rise.
Ironically, my best friend was going to fly out to help me get through my final round of chemotherapy, but was blindsided by her own (hormone-related) breast cancer diagnosis.
This seems like a cruel coincidence, but it directly reflects data showing an increase in hormone-positive breast cancer.
So while breast checks and mammograms are, of course, important for early detection, it is also essential that we conduct more research to identify what, exactly, is causing this increase. Women deserve to know more about the links between things like alcohol and breast cancer so they can also make informed choices to reduce their risk.
I will never know what caused my cancer, but I know I will survive it and continue to thrive.
I will also do everything in my power to reduce my risk of future recurrence, which includes giving up alcohol as I begin my next chapter.
Michelle Arellano Martin is an award-winning journalist and the founder of Travara, a sustainable travel company. She divides her time between the Spanish Basque Country and California.
All views expressed in this article are those of the author.
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