October is a special month for me. It’s not because of Halloween, but something dearer to my heart. It’s special because it’s breast cancer awareness month. Some of you may know that I am a breast cancer survivor. This year is six years cancer free. This month we celebrate those who are fighting, those who fought, and those who survived. We also bring awareness to this awful disease.

I can remember the phone call I got six years ago telling me they found something in my mammogram. Tears filled my eyes, and fear filled my soul. I sat in the bathroom at work with my phone, tearfully telling my husband. He talked to me until I calmed down. Then I pulled myself together and went to work. The days and weeks after that were nightmares. I had to get a biopsies in three spots.

After the biopsies they took me to a room where I sat for several minutes. Then a lady came in; I wasn’t sure if she was a doctor, a nurse, or a technician. She stood in front of me and told me there was a high chance I had breast cancer, but the results of the biopsies would not be in for a couple of days. I left the room crying and entered the waiting room where my husband was waiting.

The worst part was waiting for the results over Memorial Day weekend. It was painstaking. I couldn’t help but worry, cry, and worry some more. The day after Memorial Day I did not get a phone call with my results, so the next day I called in the morning, and they said the doctor would call me back. By lunchtime I called again, and they told me the same thing: the doctor would call. My husband and I went to my parents’ house, and I called the doctor’s office once again. This time the doctor called a few minutes later and the words, “You have cancer,” tore my insides apart.

I was lucky. Because I did my yearly mammogram my cancer was caught early, and I didn’t need chemo. However, my journey was not easy. I had the BRCA gene which can cause both breast and ovarian cancer. I had to choose to either have a lumpectomy and risk the chance of cancer returning or eliminate the risks by undergoing a double mastectomy. I agonized over this decision. How could I give up the part of my body that made me a woman? But I couldn’t risk getting cancer again. So, I got a double mastectomy and three months after that a full hysterectomy.

I grieved over the loss of my breasts. I struggled with the decision of possibly going through more surgeries to get reconstruction. I worried that I would look ugly without breasts and my husband wouldn’t look at me the same, but I hated the idea of going through more surgeries. I decided to go flat-chested. Well, not completely flat. I have some extra skin left in case I decide to get reconstruction. There’s enough skin to wear a size A cup bra.

It took time to learn to love myself as a woman without breasts. Six years later I’m happy not having to wear bras, to not have them bounce, to not get rashes under them, and to be a survivor. My story could be a lot worse if I hadn’t gotten my yearly mammogram. The BRCA gene makes cancer more aggressive. If I hadn’t gotten my yearly test, I may not have been here today.

If I see another woman struggling with cancer, I make it a point to tell her I’m a survivor and I’m praying for her. I’ve gotten tearful hugs; I’ve listened to women talk about their battles, and I have cried with them. No one’s struggle is easy or the same.

I am happy with my body and my husband tells me each day how beautiful I am. I look in the mirror and see my scarred chest and smile. I smile because I fought a horrible battle and now I’m a survivor and I’m thriving. I’m proud to tell others about how I kicked cancer’s butt. When my friends complain about their bras and the inconveniences of having breasts, I rub it in that I no longer have to deal with that.

Many have excuses for not getting their mammograms. They don’t have the time, they are too scared, it’s an uncomfortable procedure, and so on. Your life is too important not to get a mammogram. Chances are if you catch cancer early enough, you can live a long prosperous life.

I’m proud of my journey to beat cancer and I love my body the way it is. My scars are my badges of honor. I’m a survivor who is thriving in the light of recovery.