It was December 19, 2012. My husband and I laid in bed watching t.v. An ordinary day like so many others. He was feeling silly and reached over and poked my right breast. It was in that random moment of goofiness that started with a smile, that my life would transform faster than my smile changed into a look of shock. "What was that? Its not...it can't be...I'm 41...this can't be happening to me". My holiday was consumed with doctors visits, several tests and a wealth of fear. On Dec 28th the doctor called. It was invasive lobular carcinoma. It was in that moment, when life as I knew it just ceased to exist. At least that's how it felt. On January 25th I had a bi-lateral mastectomy and reconstruction. In the weeks to follow I suffered from various infections which required additional surgeries. By mid-March, I had undergone additional failed surgeries and hospitalizations. We decided to stop the reconstruction efforts as I was delaying the dreaded chemotherapy. In April the chemotherapy began, Eight rounds, once every three weeks. Then radiation. It was the worst 6 months of my life. Hair loss, weight gain, depression, fatigue, financial struggles, loss of femininity, my identity. Each day was a struggle. I learned a lot about the people in my life. My career suffered, my marriage suffered, my sanity was tested every day. I'm still not sure where the strength came from. I didn't think I possessed it. I used my sense of humor as much as I could, when I could find it. My husband was my rock. My doctors were my heros. My boss and coworkers loyal and understanding. In November 2013, the doctor said the words I longed to hear. "You are cancer free and 95% cured. You did it!" We cried together. The first tears of joy of the countless tears shed over the past year. On Jan 25, 2014, on the one year anniversary of my mastectomy, I participated in the Race for the Cure representing survivors with pride. Thank you God....for reminding me who I am.

Kris Giordano
Jupiter, FL