My experience was traumatic, life changing, and scary as hell.

It was the Fourth of July 1997, and instead of thinking about the fun we were going to have on a friend’s boat this afternoon, I was wondering what to expect at the examination scheduled for the following Tuesday.

Two days before the Fourth of July, I got into the shower around six in the morning, as I normally do. Something told me to put my hand to my right breast, and I did. What is this? I thought. No, it is nothing. No! It is something! It’s a lump! It was tiny—about the size of a very small pencil eraser tip. I jumped out of the shower and ran to my sleeping husband. “Honey, feel this! What does this feel like to you?”

“What …” he mumbled. “It’s nothing. I don’t feel anything.”

I got back into the shower. “It’s a lump,” I said to myself. “Oh my God, I have a lump in my breast!”

“Guess what,” I said to my sister. “Don’t tell Mom, but I found a lump in my breast. I have an appointment to see my doctor next week.” “Not to worry,” she said, “I have had lumps in my breast, and so

has Vanessa (our youngest sister), and they have always been benign, not malignant. It should be okay, really. Make sure you let me know what your doctor has to say.”

It was reassuring talking to my sister Clara. Now, if I could only be sure, I thought. But I told myself that there was no need to worry about it now. I had an appointment, and there was nothing more I could do until then. Life goes on … you must go on.

Almost right away, I started looking at things a little differently. Do I have cancer? And If I do, what does that mean? Will this be my last Fourth of July? Don’t think about that now. Enjoy this Fourth of July holiday. Yes, that’s what this is—another day to be with friends, doing something fun and not thinking about work.

Finally it was time for my doctor’s appointment. My regular doctor wasn’t available, so I saw another doctor who was able to see me on short notice. I will always remember her first words to me. She said, “Show me where you think there is a lump.” I pointed to the spot. She felt there. “There’s a lump there, all right. It feels pretty solid. I don’t think there is anything to worry about. When did you have your last mammogram?”

“Let me see,” I said. “I’m not sure … my last mammogram.” Did she really expect me to remember? “My last mammogram … Oh, yes, my last mammogram was just about a year and a half ago. Yes, I had my last mammogram in February 1996.” Damn, I thought, I’m six months late. But so what. I just had a full physical in January—or was it February—of this year, and I didn’t have a lump then. That’s reassuring, I couldn’t have a cancerous tumor develop that fast. Yes, good. What do I have to worry about? Cancer doesn’t run in my family.