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To Whom It May Concern:
July and August were the two months I was looking forward to most in 2019. These two months entailed my sister’s bachelorette party in Cabo San Lucas, a trip to South Korea with my boyfriend, and my sister’s wedding.
I remember waking up at 4:30AM to make it to Laguardia Airport in time for my flight to Cabo San Lucas. Everyone who knows me well knows that I am NOT a morning person. I passed out as soon as my plane took off, and I intended to wake up in paradise to a bunch of “Wooo!” bachelorette party girls as seen in How I Met Your Mother. However, I woke up in the middle of my flight feeling nauseous from one of the most horrid migraines I’ve ever experienced, which was not normal for me because I rarely experienced migraines throughout my life. I look back and wonder if this was my body telling me that a tumor was growing in my breast. Probably so.
At that moment, I associated my migraine to my busy lifestyle and not eating breakfast before my flight. I popped two Advils that I packed in my travel makeup bag and went back to sleep. I woke up in Cabo San Lucas, and the migraine eventually disappeared by the following day.
Right after “Wooo!” girl-ing in Cabo San Lucas, I flew straight to LA to meet my boyfriend, Paul, where we would then hop on a flight to South Korea. This trip was going to be extremely memorable for us because we were heading to our motherland as a couple for the very first time. Paul grew up in New Jersey his entire life, and I lived in South Korea for 6 years during my childhood. I was looking forward to showing Paul my hometown, experiencing the culture we both share, and going on memorable adventures in the country of our ancestors. Oh, and how could I forget, stuffing our faces with Korean food and drinks.
On Day 3 of our trip, Paul and I woke up early in the morning to drive from my hometown, Daejeon, to Seoul. While being intimate, we both felt something on my right breast.
Did I freak out? Absolutely. A million thoughts were running through my mind because I work in a cancer center as a manager where things like bumps and malignancies are real. The stories I hear on a daily basis at work and the patients that we treat all have stories that started out like mine. I tried my best to stay positive and remind myself that I should be okay, especially since I had just seen my OBGYN for a routine exam 2 weeks prior to my trip and got my breasts checked.
Since South Korea has universal healthcare, I stopped by a primary care office to see if they could squeeze me in. The office took walk ins. The doctor gave my lump a look, felt it with his finger, and told me it was “eczema- related.” Just to take precaution, he wanted to send me to a dermatologist to get confirmation. My inner instincts called bullshit. If the doctor wanted to take precaution, then why didn’t he send me to a radiologist? I eventually listened to his so-called advice and dropped by a dermatologist’s office, further delaying my trip to Seoul. I kid you not; the dermatologist pulled out an old school magnifying glass, looked at my lump, and told me not to worry. He then prescribed me some cream and sent me off. My inner instincts still called bullshit.
Nerd Alert: Due to my health administration background, I immediately thought of the healthcare trifecta: Access, Cost, and Quality. In grad school, I learned that the healthcare in most countries generally succeed in, at most, two of the three aforementioned categories.
From my personal experience, South Korea’s healthcare system had…
- Great access,
- Low cost, and
- Crappy quality.
I chose to follow my gut and knew it would not hurt to get checked again in the United States. Due to the time difference in South Korea and America, I waited until the doctors’ offices in New York City opened. I made international calls to set up my appointments upon my return and tried my best to make the rest of my trip memorable for Paul and for myself.
While traveling in South Korea, I acted cheerful, happy, and excited. On the inside, I was internally freaking out and the thought of cancer was lingering at the back of my mind 24/7. I just wanted to get on the next flight back to New York City and get everything checked out, but that’s not how life works. God was testing my patience, which is something I always lacked. My lack of patience is one of the reasons why I moved back to New York; this fast-paced city is filled with impatient people just like me.
Let’s fast forward to July 17, 2019. After diagnostic testing and a breast biopsy in New York City, I was scheduled to see my breast surgeon to hear my biopsy results. On this particular day, the office was majorly delayed, and I waited over an hour to hear the news. While feeling anxious as ever in the waiting room, I tried to remain calm, read sermons on my Bible app, and turned on my Spotify playlist.
I was finally called in to a room with just a conference table. I sat down. My breast surgeon sat across from me. Paul sat next to me. My hands were locked in his.
“You have breast cancer,” said my breast surgeon.
As my breast surgeon took out her visual board which depicted a set of breasts, she started explaining the science behind breast cancer and drawing with a dry erase marker. My eyes followed her marker but my mind was completely elsewhere. You know the concept of fight or flight? My response was neither. I felt stuck in time, and everything went completely blank. Once I snapped out of it, my mind went racing >100 miles per hour.
“What the actual fuck?”
“Really, God, really?”
“How can this be?”
“No one in my family ever had cancer.”
“I’m extremely healthy. I work out 5 times per week, have a plant-based diet for the most part, and drink alcohol on special occasions only. I don’t smoke. This makes absolutely no sense.”
“Doesn’t breast cancer only affect women who are older?”
“I’ve never felt this scared in my life.”
“How am I going to break the news to my family?”
“Will I make it to my sister’s wedding?”
“Will Paul still want to be with me?”
“Am I being punk’d right now?”
“I’m doomed.”
“Did my doctor just say I need to freeze my eggs?”
“A bilateral ma-what now?”
“WTF.”
“Okay, let me try to retain what my breast surgeon is saying and hope Paul can recap me later.”
After my breast surgeon finished explaining everything, I remember just staring blankly into space, perhaps retaining at most 3 things she had mentioned. Overall, I just felt stuck, numb, and shocked. I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything. Then, tears automatically came rolling down my face and they wouldn’t stop no matter how hard I tried to keep them in.
My appointment was coming to an end, and my breast surgeon sent me seven floors down to get an MRI of my breasts so my care team could obtain a better understanding of my disease progression.
I felt a bit of relief knowing that my instincts in South Korea were right. If I had listened to the “professional” advice of the primary care physician and dermatologist in South Korea, I probably would not be here right now. Despite having an answer to my mysterious lump, I felt a complete wave of utter darkness hit me. I planked face down for approximately 45 minutes in the claustrophobic MRI machine where I was forced to be alone with my thoughts. Prior to my diagnosis, I kept myself extremely busy and only used my tiny Upper West Side apartment for sleep. I was always at work, out with friends, exploring the city, and getting shit done. I now realize this busy lifestyle was a coping mechanism for all the underlying issues that I did not want to face as a young woman in her late twenties. I can say, without a doubt, that being in that MRI machine was the moment I felt the most alone, helpless, and fearful.
As I look back and reflect on this time, I can conclude that my diagnosis was my first real, personal hardship. I am a second generation Korean-American living in the United States. My parents sacrificed their entire lives in South Korea and started anew in America to ensure my sister and I had a fulfilling life. So yes, I am quote-unquote privileged. However, my parents never handed things to me on a golden platter. They taught me to work hard in all aspects of my life. Therefore, my diagnosis was really hard for me to accept because everything in my life, prior to my diagnosis, went the way as planned due to my hard work and determination. I got accepted into my dream grad school; I lived in New York City; I met the love of my life; I had a fulfilling job; I spent my spare time traveling; etc. Then, BOOM! Breast cancer. Per Drake, shit went from zero to one hundred, real quick.
My life officially changed on July 17, 2019.
After my MRI, Paul and I took the ferry from Downtown Manhattan to Paul’s apartment in Jersey City. As we neared our destination, I looked back at the New York City skyline and, for the first time, thought how badly I did not want to be in the city that I love and how badly I did not want to be in my predicament. We arrived at Paul’s apartment, climbed into his bed, and he held me tight until I fell asleep.
This is what went down. This is my diagnosis story.
Breast regards,
Michelle
