I have a very good friend who happens to be a doctor. Several years ago, she was pregnant with her daughter when her doctor discovered she had breast cancer. Her options weren’t very promising. She could either carry the baby to full term and risk both their lives, leaving her husband to care for their son, or she could deliver early and have the cancer taken care of.

My friend really wanted to carry full term and breastfeed her baby, but she decided that choice would be more out of vanity.

She opted to deliver early for her son and her husband. Her daughter was delivered at 35 weeks gestation and was placed in the hospital’s NICU. One of the country’s best, but still not good enough. My friend’s daughter died in the NICU before she really got to know her at all. She was just a few weeks old.

In addition to this heart-wrenching experience with her daughter, my friend was also facing major surgery: her cancer was in both breasts and was in danger of spreading. She ended up with a bilateral mastectomy; she lost both breasts to cancer. She now wears prosthetic breasts, but she is cancer-free and able to continue her practice and take care of her son and husband.

This lady is special to me because she is a great friend as well as a great doctor. She took care of me medically for over 8 years and delivered two of my four children. She was there for me when I had a nervous breakdown over my third child’s admittance to the NICU. She’s been there through my mood and emotional problems.

I’m glad she’s here; there are many other men and women she continues to help because she chose to have her cancer removed.

—Melissa

My mom was diagnosed with Paget’s disease just before her 50th birthday. She went in for her first surgery the day after her birthday. Paget’s is a cancer of the nipple. It turned out she also had ductal carcinoma in situ (DCIS), cancer of the milk ducts. Two surgeries and a masectomy later, my mom is finally cancer free.

I told her from day one that I’d rather have a boobless mom than no mom at all. I’m lucky that my mom was brave enough to go through all of that so that I can still have her in my life.

The cancer my mom had is not detectable through a mammogram or even an MRI early on. She was lucky that the external Paget’s clued her in to the more serious problem underneath the skin. Share this story with those you love. Make sure you are all doing self-checks and seeing your OBGYN every year. Hopefully, you will be lucky and find any problems early, too.

This month, my site is pink for my mom.

—Karaoke Diva

My mom was diagnosed with Paget’s disease just before her 50th birthday. She went in for her first surgery the day after her birthday. Paget’s is a cancer of the nipple. It turned out she also had ductal carcinoma in situ (DCIS), cancer of the milk ducts. Two surgeries and a masectomy later, my mom is finally cancer free.

I told her from day one that I’d rather have a boobless mom than no mom at all. I’m lucky that my mom was brave enough to go through all of that so that I can still have her in my life.

The cancer my mom had is not detectable through a mammogram or even an MRI early on. She was lucky that the external Paget’s clued her in to the more serious problem underneath the skin. Share this story with those you love. Make sure you are all doing self-checks and seeing your OBGYN every year. Hopefully, you will be lucky and find any problems early, too.

This month, my site is pink for my mom.

—Karaoke Diva

I’m the fourth generation of my family to have breast cancer. We have the BRCA1 gene mutation, how lucky for us, huh? Other people inherit attached earlobes or a propensity for good teeth — I get the gene that can cause cancer.

I found the lump while in the shower one day. I was 33 and had 8-month-old twin sons. I ended up having a bilateral mastectomy and six rounds of chemotherapy. For me, chemotherapy wasn’t the nightmare that you see in the movies, but it was pretty darn sucky.

Nonetheless, I felt lucky… lucky that I had my cancer in a time when the doctors know so much, can do so much, and don’t just look at you with pity in their eyes. They fought for me and I fought for my sons. And here I am, 18 months after diagnosis, and my hair is growing and I feel like I kicked cancer’s ass.

And I feel like my sons are even luckier, because by the time they are grown men and have to decide for themselves if they are going to undergo genetic testing to see if they won the BRCA1 mutation in the genetic lottery, science and medicine will know so much MORE.

Maybe it’s a crazy dream, but it keeps me going, the thought that one day they’ll know so much about curing breast cancer that my sons, your sons, and that other guy’s sons will not ever have to have a doctor tell them it’s cancer and look at them with pity in their eyes.

—Sarah