I’ve started writing this post a dozen times, and each time I’ve stopped because of three words I’m struggling to say out loud: I have cancer.
Stage 0 breast cancer, to be specific. DCIS (ductal carcinoma in situ), caught on a breast MRI. My yearly mammogram had come back clear, but my doctor encouraged me to get the additional scan because I have extremely dense breast tissue. No family history. No symptoms. Just incredibly fortunate timing—and a doctor who pushed for that extra step.
And here’s where I am struggling: Can I even call this “breast cancer” when I know so many women are fighting battles far more serious than mine? When I’m looking at a lumpectomy and radiation, while others face months of chemo, mastectomies, and uncertain outcomes?
The Imposter Syndrome Is Real
Here’s what I’m learning: there’s a strange guilt that comes with “easier” cancer. I feel like an imposter in a club I never wanted to join in the first place. I catch myself minimizing it—”Oh, it’s just stage 0,” “I’m so lucky,” “It’s basically nothing”—as if acknowledging the weight of this diagnosis somehow takes away from those facing stage III or IV.
But a friend said something that stuck with me: “Stage 0 is still cancer. It still requires treatment. And it’s still scary.” She’s right. I’m still facing surgery. I’m likely still going to need radiation. I’m still processing the reality that my body grew cells that could have become something much worse.
Why I’m Sharing My Breast Cancer Diagnosis
I’m sharing my story not because it’s the most dramatic or the most difficult, but because it illustrates a crucial point: early detection saves lives.
This scan was recommended by my doctor specifically because of my dense breast tissue—something mammograms alone can miss. My mammogram had been clear, but she pushed for the MRI anyway. If I hadn’t listened to her, if I had figured the clear mammogram was enough, this story could be very different.
Stage 0 is treatable precisely because it’s caught early. It’s the moment where we get to stop cancer before it truly starts. And that’s not something to feel guilty about—that’s something to celebrate and share.
For Every Woman Reading This
If you’re currently in a battle with breast cancer that’s more advanced than mine, please know: I see you. My heart aches for what you’re going through. You are the warriors, the survivors, the ones who inspire me and others. I would never presume to fully understand what you’re facing.
If you’re someone who’s been putting off that mammogram, that appointment, that additional scan your doctor recommended—this is your sign. Make the call. If you have dense breast tissue, ask your doctor about supplemental screening, such as an ultrasound or MRI. A clear mammogram might not be the full picture. My diagnosis doesn’t have to be your diagnosis, but listening to your doctor and advocating for thorough screening could be what makes all the difference for you, too.
If you’re struggling with your own “stage 0” diagnosis and feeling like an imposter, like maybe you don’t have the right to be scared or worried or overwhelmed—you do. Your feelings are valid. Your journey matters. And you’re not alone in feeling this strange mix of gratitude and guilt.
What’s Next
I will have my surgical consult, and the tentative plan is a lumpectomy followed by radiation. I’m nervous. I’m grateful. I’m processing. And I’m committed to being honest about all of it—the fear, the relief, the weird emotional contradictions that come with a diagnosis that feels both serious and “lucky” at the same time.
Mostly, I’m thankful. Thankful for that random scan. Thankful for modern medicine. Thankful for the chance to catch this early. And thankful for the opportunity to remind other women that early detection truly, truly matters.
To all the Indianapolis moms reading this: please don’t skip your screenings. Talk to your doctor about when you should start mammograms. Know your body. Advocate for yourself. Get your mammogram.
