Although I’m not proud of it, I’ve never been one to commit to annual medical exams. I’ve always enjoyed great health... Or at least I was asymptomatic of any disease so that it gave the appearance of good health. Anyway, I was feeling some twinges in my breast and it had been two years since my last mammogram, so it was time.

The mammography showed a lump in the left breast and required another film... After the second mammo was read, my Personal Care Physician ordered a biopsy.

I met with the breast surgeon, Dr. Dwight DeRisi, who was so kind, I felt as if I’d known him forever. I would say he treated me like a sister, but none of my brothers ever saw me topless. “It’s probably nothing, but it could be something. We’ll know after the biopsy.” I asked if the outcome was cancer, would he be able to remove the lump without taking off the whole breast. “Absolutely,” he replied. Good, I thought, ‘cause I need my rack.

A few days after the biopsy, Dr. DeRisi confirmed I had breast cancer. He said it was a “small cancer.” Small cancer? … Oh, well that is JUST too cute. WTF???

DeRisi convinced me that I had nothing to worry about … so I didn’t; I trusted this man. How bad can a “small cancer” be? I’m sure this can be removed by a lumpectomy. I am eager to get this done. I’m a busy woman and summer was almost here. I had planned a vacation and several other fun things to do.

Dr. DeRisi was pretty nonchalant and told me he saw no reason for me to hold up any of my plans. Yay!!! What are the next steps, Doc? I asked. He told me he wanted to schedule a different type of biopsy before moving ahead with any treatment. Apparently, there were enhanced calcifications he wanted examined. They may not be cancerous, but he wanted to be sure. Ugh …. Can we please get this over with ... It’s enough, already.

I called my husband, Kevin, to let him know the news wasn’t good. Some people might think I should have told him in person ... but what the hell? I got the news over the phone and I’m ok. Besides, I wanted Kevin to have the time to digest this before I got home so he wouldn’t barrage me with a ton of questions -- none to which I had answers.

Kevin was visibly rattled when I arrived home. I gave him all the information I had and told him that I was pretty sure all I needed was a lumpectomy. I explained the need for another biopsy and that we will know more when those results are in.

My stereotactic biopsy was scheduled for June 7. The radiologist, Dr. Josh Kalowitz and his team greeted me warmly and explained to me what was going to take place. This procedure is a combo of a mammogram and a biopsy.

I lay on top of this table and my left breast was pushed through a hole. There were several hands under the table groping at my breast to navigate it into the right position. I had to lie very still. This must be what my car feels like when it’s on the lift. After they got my boob properly situated, they clamped it on either side so it couldn't move. I thought to myself ... why don’t they do this to terrorists instead of waterboarding? It would have the same affect. (I need to suggest this to the powers that be.) As luck would have it – bad luck, that is – the calcifications were also cancerous.

The next step, in what seemed to be an endless ordeal, was to meet with Dr. DeRisi to discuss my options. At this point, I was still voting for a lumpectomy. The doctor told me that I could go that route, but there could be a 12% chance of recurrence; a mastectomy has much more favorable odds, i.e., a 3% chance of recurrence. So what? I think I’ll take my chances with the lumpectomy. The bright side is there is an 88% chance of non-recurrence. Right?

During the ride home, Kevin was relentless in his efforts to convince me to have the mastectomy and I finally agreed. My surgery was scheduled for the second week in July – a few days prior to that, I met with Dr. Mark Silberman, my plastic surgeon.

Dr. Silberman, like Dr. DeRisi was easy to be with and had a great sense of humor. He took pains to explain the details of the surgery and the reconstruction that would follow. He also told me that a large percentage of women elected to have both breasts removed – a) it was easier to reconstruct two breasts than to try to match one of them, and b) the chances of cancer showing up in the other breast were very slim.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing! A few weeks earlier I was digesting the idea of a “small cancer” and a lumpectomy and now I was faced with the decision of undergoing a double mastectomy???

After I got over the initial shock, I thought: What the hell … in for a penny; in for a pound. Let’s get it done. On July 11, 2012, I had both breasts removed. Dr. DeRisi was confident they “got it all.” What a relief! All I needed were my implants and I could reclaim my life. Right?

Not so fast … I was referred to Dr. Marc Citron, a renowned oncologist, to discuss next steps. I wasn’t the least bit concerned. They got it all ...didn’t they? This was probably some sort of a “rubber stamp” visit so they could close the books. Right?

As a precautionary measure, Dr. Citron prescribed four treatments of chemotherapy, Taxotere and Cytoxan. He also told me I would lose my hair. Oh … this is just great. The two things I had going for me were my rack and my hair … can this get any worse?? Well, look on the bright side, I thought. I’ll probably lose the 15 pounds I've been trying to take off for the past five years. When this is all over, I will be SMOKIN’ HOT ... for an old bag, that is. Guess again! Dr. Citron told me I would need to watch my diet because this particular chemo makes you GAIN weight!!! In 60 seconds, I went from Smokin’ Hot to Fat, Flat and Bald. Well, everything Dr. Citron said was true. I blew up like a balloon and my hair fell out. I could pass for my husband’s chubby brother.

My last chemo treatment was at the end of October. Halloween was upon us and I didn’t need a costume! I could get an orange sheet and go as a member of the Hare Krishna Movement or get a brown robe and go as Friar Tuck. I was tempted to answer the door without my wig and give the Trick or Treaters a run for their money.

My reconstructive surgery was scheduled for November 26 and I couldn’t wait -- I was finally getting my rack back. I bought new bras and some new tops. The chemo weight came off and I was starting to feel a bit like my old self. Now if only my hair would grow back.

By February of this year, I had enough hair to ditch the wig. It was much shorter than I usually wear it, but it was MINE. In fact, one day I was waiting in line at the bank and a total stranger told me she liked my hair. Imagine that … I felt like doing a commercial. “My eyes by Maybelline ... my lips by Revlon and my hair … by Taxotere.”

It’s been almost a year to the day since I was diagnosed and I feel terrific. I try not to sweat the small stuff and to embrace life with a positive attitude. I survived this nightmare and got a brand new rack out of the deal … who's better than me?