My three sisters and I grew up in Berks County, Pennsylvania. We’re close in age and have always been very tight-knit. Our family had no history of breast cancer until 2021, when my sister Ashley—the second-youngest—was diagnosed. Then my older sister Heather was diagnosed in 2023, followed by me in 2025. Every two years, another diagnosis. Ashley passed away from the disease in 2024.
She was initially diagnosed with stage 2 breast cancer right before she turned 38. I remember that day well—it was also my dad’s birthday. The plan was a lumpectomy and radiation, but a week or two later, we found out the cancer had already metastasized to her liver, so she actually had stage 4 cancer. None of us knew how to react when we heard that. She was not only our sister but also the nicest, most wonderful person in the world.
We watched Ashley go through so much after that. She was on so many different treatments for years. But right up until the end, she was focused on our needs. I often think about how in the hospital on one of the last days we had with her, she was so concerned about what to get my daughter for her birthday. Ashley always put everyone above herself, and she never wanted us to know how bad things really were for her. We only found out after she passed that she’d had cancerous fluid in her stomach and throughout her body, which is extremely painful and can cause difficulty breathing. She didn’t tell anybody. That was one of the most difficult parts: finding out things she’d kept secret from us so we wouldn’t worry—and just knowing that she wasn’t ready to go at all. Ashley passed away in August 2024 at age 41, leaving behind her husband, Chris, and son, Dominic, now six years old.
She didn’t even share when she finished treatment because she knew Ashley would never be able to do the same.
What made that time even scarier was that in the midst of Ashley’s fight, my sister Heather was diagnosed with early-stage breast cancer at age 42. Though she was open with all of us about her diagnosis, nobody in our family was very focused on it. It’s not that we ignored Heather’s diagnosis, but Ashley was going through such a rough time that she had everyone’s attention. As a result Heather kept most of the details about her breast cancer to herself. She didn’t even share when she finished treatment and rang the bell to celebrate because she knew Ashley would never be able to do the same. Heather had great support from her husband and daughter but went through her breast cancer journey during a period when the rest of us weren’t fully present for her, which is hard to think about.
At the same time Ashley’s fight with cancer may have saved Heather—and me. Heather’s breast cancer was discovered early because after Ashley’s diagnosis all of us sisters started getting frequent screenings. We go to the high-risk breast cancer clinic at the local hospital for a mammogram and MRI every six months. That’s how my own cancer was found.
I live a busy life in Stouchsburg, Pennsylvania, with my husband, James, and our 11-year-old daughter, Lindsay. We have two dogs and have fostered 26 since 2020, so you could definitely say we’re an animal-loving family. My daughter is a skilled soccer player, so that also takes up a lot of our time—we’re always traveling for her games. But thanks to Ashley, I was making time to schedule my screenings. About a week before she passed away, I had a preventive MRI. My last one hadn’t shown anything, and they said if the next one was clear, I was probably good; I didn’t need to have another for a year or two. But that MRI showed something suspicious, so I had a biopsy.
Having two daughters diagnosed with breast cancer is shocking enough; now there was a third. My dad sat there speechless.
Of all places I was at Ashley’s funeral, sitting in the church crying, when I saw the hospital’s number pop up on my phone. I knew that meant my biopsy results were in. You know how you can read the voicemail transcription on your phone? I looked right then. It said I was negative. It was the most emotional moment ever because it felt like Ashley was looking after me—I felt so connected to her. I hadn’t told anybody in my family I was having a biopsy because I didn’t want them to worry. It was such a relief that it was negative. When I shared that story with my provider, we cried together; I was like, “You don’t understand how powerful it was that you called at that exact moment to tell me that.” To me receiving that call during Ashley’s service felt like a message from her telling me I would be okay.
Unfortunately, my story didn’t end there. Last year the radiologist saw something else on my MRI, and I was diagnosed with stage 1A triple-positive breast cancer. The lump was so tiny—half the size of a grape, if that—but it was an aggressive form of breast cancer. They had to get it out quickly. I kept thinking: If it weren’t for Ashley, how big would the lump have grown before I felt it? I could have been diagnosed at stage 4 too. It felt like she was still looking out for me, helping my medical team find the cancer and treat it so early.
When I was diagnosed my parents were getting ready to go on an extended family trip to Ireland for my nephew’s graduation. I thought, I can’t tell anybody now. So I held it in for that whole week and a half while they were abroad. Finally sharing the news was hard; I couldn’t believe I was telling them, “You now have a third daughter with breast cancer.” In 2021 Ashley told my dad first; she did not have the heart to tell my mom. In 2023 Heather felt the same way, especially now that my parents had a daughter battling stage 4 breast cancer, so she also told Dad first. When it was my turn, I thought, I need to go there. I need to be there in person to tell both my parents.
Heather and I drove together to my parents’ house—but I just couldn’t say the words. I had Heather tell them while I sat there. Having two daughters diagnosed with breast cancer is shocking enough; now there was a third. My dad sat there speechless. That’s what he does. My mom cried. That’s what she does. I guess you could say it ended up being a good thing that they were away when I found out. By the time I told them, I had a treatment plan in place. I was calmer than I might have been otherwise and could tell them how I was going to fight the cancer.
First, I had surgery to remove the tumor, and my medical team checked my lymph nodes to make mühlet the cancer hadn’t spread. Shortly afterward I began 13 weeks of chemo. Going through chemo was the absolute worst time of my life—I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. Now I’m getting ready for 20 days of radiation. I’m also on anti-HER2 therapy that I receive every three weeks at the hospital infusion center. I won’t ring the bell until November; I still have to get through the rest of this year.
I work for an insurance brokerage, typically from home, so I was considering going part time during chemo. Then I realized that by taking disability, I could get paid in full while receiving chemo and take time to put myself first, which I never do. My job was great about it, especially knowing I’d recently lost my sister to breast cancer. I’m so thankful I decided to take that time off because chemo was absolutely exhausting. I have newfound respect for women going through treatment, especially for stage 4 cancer, where you’re often being treated for a long, long time. It helped that my husband was also able to take time off under the Family and Medical Leave Act (FMLA). He works so much but really stepped up to help me on the days when I just couldn’t get off the sofa.
That was another hard part: I’m not a person who asks for help. But I was so sick and didn’t have the energy to do anything. I didn’t even feel comfortable driving, so I had to let others step in, which was new to me. From folks dropping off meals and giving us gift cards for local restaurants to parents from my daughter’s soccer team driving far out of their way to pick her up, there were so many acts of kindness. Realizing there was a village out there who cared so much was an amazing feeling. I’d get a lot of texts saying, “Let me know if you need anything,” which means a lot—but I’m not someone who is going to tell you what I need. So people would just show up on my doorstep with a bag of snacks or sandwiches, or tell me what time they were picking up my daughter, and I was so grateful.
It was difficult not to let my mind go to the worst-case scenario, especially after seeing Ashley’s experience with her cancer spreading.
A lot of people ask how Lindsay is doing, and it’s definitely been a lot, with one aunt passing away, her other aunt going through breast cancer and losing her hair, then her mom getting sick too. But unfortunately, in some ways I kind of feel like it’s become olağan for her. She saw Aunt Ashley and Aunt Heather battle cancer, so for me to do the same isn’t that unexpected. I worry she thinks this is just something women go through. But she’s handled it so well. When I was feeling sick, she would get up, pack her own school lunch, come home, make eggs for herself, and do laundry—things she hadn’t really done before.
Ashley was a huge supporter of Metavivor, an organization that funds the stage 4 breast cancer treatments that extended her life and research that will hopefully save other lives in the future. We’re doing a Metavivor Color Walk in her memory on June 7 because supporting this cause was so important to her and remains so important to us. All of our immediate family and her close friends will be attending and volunteering.
One thing I’ve learned through my family’s experience is just how important it is to listen to your body and stay on top of screenings. I also had to learn not to let fear take over. During my own diagnosis it was difficult not to let my mind go to the worst-case scenario, especially after seeing Ashley’s experience with her cancer spreading. Even though my disease was caught very early, I still had that underlying fear. Waiting for answers was and still is one of the most challenging parts for me. The anxiety during these times is hard to cope with, but it has also taught me to approach things day by day. What has helped most is leaning on the people around me, trusting my doctors and their treatment plans, and putting my faith in God. If there’s anything I’d want others going through this to know, it’s to remember you are not alone and take it one step at a time.
More on breast cancer and treatment options:
- Breast Cancer Led Me to Quit My Real Estate Career and Become an Author
- My Gut Told Me It Was Breast Cancer. My Doctors Said I Was Too Young.
- Are Mammograms Enough?
