In August 2002, after eight years of working as an Executive Assistant at Morgan Stanley, I decided to resign and pursue my dream of starting a home-based boutique public relations firm. I also wanted to work for myself so I could be more involved in my daughter's life and school (PTA).
One morning as I lay with my 6-year-old on her bed I felt a lump in my left breast. This was abnormal for me, so I immediately scheduled an appointment with my gynecologist. Initially he dismissed my concerns because I was young, but he scheduled a breast sonogram which was inconclusive, and so a biopsy was scheduled six weeks later.
Because of the nonchalant manner of my test dates, I didn't feel concerned until I was given the diagnosis--almost four months after my initial discovery--that I had breast cancer. It felt surreal. Almost five years later, it still feels weird to have that label: Khadijah Carter Breast Cancer patient. But I know that I'm blessed to be alive.
The night of my diagnosis, I looked at my daughter and vowed to live...and to be around for all of her important moments as she grew into a young lady.
I eventually told her what was going on in very simple terms: "Mommy's breast is sick, so they have to remove this lump"...."The medicine I have to take will make me bald." I didn't cry in front of her or express my fears. But since then, she's become more aware of the disease and often accompanies me to speaking engagements. Most importantly, I've used this situation to educate her about the importance of being in tune with her body, to have faith no matter what she's going through, and that God is real because she sees first-hand how he healed me.
The treatment that I undertook was a mastectomy, followed by reconstructive surgery, and four months of chemotherapy. I gained some weight from the steroids following surgery. I lost my hair, and was very fatigued. I continued working from home, but I relied heavily on my good friend and business partner, Aisha, to sustain the business. I had been adopted, and most of my family didn't live in New York City at the time, so in many ways my friends were my family. My amazing friends attended chemotherapy sessions with me, went shopping for wigs with me, cooked for me, helped me with my daughter and Aisha's mother Sylvia helped me organize my end of Chemo/Birthday party.
To cope with the fear, I prayed, I wrote songs (including 'This Day') and painted. Although it's not widely accepted in many communities of color, I also went to therapy. I felt that it was important for me to speak to a professional about the various emotions that I was experiencing.
I started working with the Young Survival Coalition (YSC) in October 2005, because while black women have a lower incidence of breast cancer than white women, we have a higher mortality rate. In many communities of color we still don't identify with healthcare professionals that don't look like us, we have cultural taboos, and we have inadequate healthcare. Mostly, a lot of women of color look at breast cancer as a disease of white women. I aim to help dispel this myth because I'm young and black and a lot of women can relate to my struggle. As the Diversity Manager for Young Survival Coalition, I work with multicultural organizations and advocate for survivors of various races and ethnicities to outreach into underserved populations.
Being diagnosed with cancer is a scary situation for anyone. For young women it's often more challenging. Many times we're just starting our careers, are still in school, or we don't have medical benefits -- these can wreak havoc on ones financial stability.
Younger women may be unmarried, or newly married, and we may have small children; it's challenging to balance going through treatment and the emotional demands of a partner and children. Younger women are usually diagnosed at a later stage (this may contribute to higher mortality) than their post menopausal counterparts because we're often told "you're too young for breast cancer" and there are no effective tools for screening.
Mammograms are usually for women over 40 (because it's difficult to detect abnormalities in young women's breast which are usually dense). Further, breast cancer in young women tends to be more aggressive because of the hormonal aspect. And young women may have long-term anxiety because we have a longer period of time to live with the disease. After treatment, we still have follow up tests, MRIs or scans and any abnormal finding or pain can bring fears of a reoccurrence.
Prior to breast cancer, I'd overcome many obstacles in my life including being adopted and growing up in the ghetto, but somehow I made it through. On the day of my diagnosis, I heard a voice tell me that "You're not going to die" and I still rely on that promise. Faith is not something you see, it's something you live.
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