By early 2011 I had everything planned. A close friend and I were moving from Philly, and I was going to be a big theater star. I was like, New York, here I come! Two weeks later I got the news: "You have breast cancer." I was 32.
I called my twin sister, Karen, bawling and crying. And then I called my family—my mom raised six of us, and we're all close. I said, "I do not have cancer. We have cancer. So get your schedules together."
All I remember about the double mastectomy is waking up and asking whether the Eagles won their game. My brother moved in to help me for five months as I completed chemo. (All my sisters were screened and are OK.) Going through cancer is awful. I'm single, and dates would say, "Oh man, do I even want to start something with you?" Also, I felt like I'd lost a part of my womanhood. And it hurt to look at the scars on my inner thigh where they took the fat to reconstruct my breasts, so I always hid them, wearing shorts even at the beach.
It wasn't until this May, when I was in Turks and Caicos with my family, that I looked around and saw everyone frolicking in the water. Suddenly I just took my shorts off and ran in too. They were like, "Kelly, it's about time. You've worn those shorts for four years!" The water was great. I felt liberated. On top of the world.
And the photo shoot really hit that feeling home. Despite what your body's gone through, despite how different it is, there's still a beauty there, and that's what I saw when I looked at the photos. I felt really, really happy. Those images filled that hole I felt after losing my breasts—and so much else—and brought back the joy I have been missing. They showed me the beauty that I failed to see.
What You Can Do
How to support those with breast cancer and take care of your health:
__ If you're under 40:__ Get to know your breasts (best in a soapy shower the week after your period), and if you notice a change—"your hands will usually tell you, so trust them," says Lauren S. Cassell, M.D., chief of breast surgery at Lenox Hill Hospital in New York City—see your doctor. It's rare to get breast cancer in your twenties or thirties, "but don't let anyone tell you you're too young if you feel something."
If you're over 40: Experts disagree whether women should start regular mammograms at 40 or 50, so talk to your health care provider about what's right for you. If you have a family history of the disease: See a specialist—you may need earlier screenings and different tests.
