As soon as my doctor told me I had cancer, all I knew is that I wanted it out of my body as soon as possible. “We can schedule your surgery for next month. That’s the only availability we have,” Dr. A. told me.“A month? I need to get this out of my body immediately. Can you take me today?”I couldn’t believe I was begging someone to cut me open and remove part of my body.

Dr. A. made several calls, came back minutes later saying she could fit me in the next day. I was beyond grateful.I knew I needed to call my mom because she was the one who was originally so concerned about the lump. But I also knew the news would kill her; after all I was her only daughter. I didn’t think I could handle hearing her upset. Instead, I called Z, my 22 year old brother, who was by far the most calm, levelheaded person in my family. I had no doubt he could take the news without adding more drama to the situation. I would give him the job of breaking it to mom.

Out in the hospital hallway, I hesitantly put a quarter in the pay phone. My stomach was in knots and I felt queasy, but I slowly dialed the numbers trying to see past the water welling up in my eyes.“Hello?” my brother answered.I paused, not knowing what or how to tell him. I tried to stay strong, but my voice quivered.“Z…I have breast cancer. Can you call mom and tell her?” I lost control and began sobbing, quickly hanging up the phone before I could hear his response. I knew he would be scared and I didn’t want to frighten him more by crying. I rarely cried and if I did, my tears quickly turned into laughter. This time was different.

I walked back into Chrissy’s office who would now help me arrange my appointments. Chrissy was young, cute and bubbly. She was the kind of person I would have been friends with if I had met her outside of the hospital. She offered to phone mom for me and explain the situation. As she dialed, I sat motionless in the chair, still not wanting to believe this was actually happening. Mom answered not even halfway through the first ring. I could hear how frantic she was through the receiver.Chrissy spoke calmly. “I’m sure you’ve heard the news by now. Asha will be going in for surgery tomorrow morning.” “Is she going to be ok?” I heard my mom scream into the phone.“That all depends on how the surgery goes tomorrow and what they find.”I knew that’s not what my mom wanted to hear. Looking at me, Chrissy asked if I wanted to speak to her. The lump in the back of my throat made it impossible to talk so I shook my head ‘no.’ She hung up the phone and I kept my eyes on my knees, somehow thinking that as long as I didn’t look at her, it wasn’t really happening.

“Your mom and dad are flying into New York this evening from Boston so they can be at surgery with you tomorrow,” she told me.I immediately felt guilty. How could I do this to my parents? This would totally disrupt their schedules forcing them to take time off work. I knew they would be more upset than I was. Please let this be a really bad dream, I begged." I have to go back to work because I’m really late now,” I tried to tell Chrissy, still in shock. Instead it just came out as little whimpers. She asked if I wanted her to call my boss and tell her I wasn't coming in, but I told her that I had a lot to do and couldn't afford to miss any work. I didn’t want her to worry about me. For some odd reason, I was trying to protect everyone else in my life, even the office assistant who I barely knew. Was this so I could focus on something other than myself? I still don’t know the answer.

Wally, the hospital receptionist who had greeted me with a huge smile upon entering the hospital this morning, looked at me with grave eyes. He must have seen these same tears many times before. After all, it was the St. Vincent’s Comprehensive Cancer Center. He asked if I wanted to some kleenex but I shook my head holding up my hand already filled with tissue that Chrissy had given me. I hoped that I could fool people at my new job into thinking nothing was wrong. In fact I was so concerned what they would think that I reapplied my makeup before leaving the hospital. I smiled a couple fake smiles in the mirror to see if I could make it look genuine for the outside world. It was passable.

A week before, I had been thrilled to land this new job as a Public relations Coordinator for a Dot.com start-up. Everyone except the CEO was under the age of 35, and my boss, Laurie, was only four years older than I. She was thin, stylish and wore funky black glasses flattering her angular face. I was slightly intimidated by her but was taken by her brilliance and confidence and knew I could learn from her. I hoped to work my way up the PR ladder to be like her in four years.

Upon arriving at work after my cancer diagnosis, I hesitantly walked into my Laurie’s office. “So, how’d everything go?” she asked optimistically. I took a deep breath hoping I could stay in control. As soon as I opened my mouth, I lost my composure again as tears ran down my face. We had just had a conversation the previous day how the lump was nothing to worry about. My seemingly perfect world was crashing down and all of a sudden I had no control of my life. She led me to the bathroom and let me sob on her shoulders. I apologized profusely. I felt terrible that I had just been hired a week before and already I would have to take time off. I told her I would try and come in to work after surgery the next day. “Don’t worry about the job right now. You need to take care of yourself,” she said.

I went back to my desk and tried to get some work done before my parents arrived. I couldn’t concentrate. Pulling out my phone list, I began scrolling through my list of friends. I wanted my closest friends to hear it from me directly. First I called Liz, one of my best friends from high school who was living in Boston. We talked for a minute and I tried to pretend nothing was wrong. Then I started crying. “What’s wrong?” she asked concerned. I stuttered not able to get any words out. She got worried.“Ashie, what’s going on?”“I have breast cancer,” I was finally able to blurt out.There was silence.“What do you mean?” she asked, not comprehending what I said.“I have breast cancer. I just went to the doctors and I have breast cancer. They are doing surgery tomorrow morning.”Without hesitation, she said, “I’m coming right now. I’ll call you when I get to New York,” and hung up the phone before I could respond.

Thankfully I had my own office so I was able to sit at my desk staring blankly at the computer screen without any interruptions. Could I ever trust my body again, I wondered? I had always been healthy, was in good shape, had never been in the hospital for anything, let alone surgery, and had never before had any health issues besides the common cold and flu. How did I do this to myself? What did I do wrong to cause this to myself? How could I prevent it from happening again? I felt betrayed by my own body.

Laurie came into my office around 5 p.m. and told me I should head home because it was getting late. The concern in her voice made me cringe. The thought of having someone feel bad or pity me made me feel helpless. Right now, that was the worst feeling I could think of. I hadn’t moved from my desk since noon and certainly hadn’t done any work, but the real reason I didn’t go home was my roommates didn’t get home until after 7 p.m. and I didn’t want to go back to an empty apartment.It was beginning to rain, but instead of taking the subway home, I decided to walk over 60 blocks from 28th street back to my apartment on 90th so I could pull myself together before my parents arrived. As I walked home in the rain and the people rushed past me, I saw everything in a new light. My thoughts were racing but the world around me seemed to move in slow motion. I longingly remembered how different my life was less than a week ago. My whole life had been completely turned around in one day.I wanted to tell the couple on the street to stop fighting about being late to their dinner reservation and appreciate the time they had together; I wanted to tell the cabs to stop honking and enjoy their ride; I wanted to tell the girls on the street to stop complaining about their hair frizzing from the rain and be thankful that they had hair. I noticed things I had never noticed before, like the way people walk down the street in a hurry without looking up. Just yesterday, I was one of those people.

Today, the rain looked so calm and beautiful as it hit the ground. For the first time, I appreciated how short, how fragile and how pretty the simple things in life could be.When I finally reached my apartment, I decided to make one more call to Ben, who was one of my closest guy friends. I hadn’t spoken to him in over a month but desperately needed some male attention from someone who liked and cared about me. At first I didn’t want to tell him. To tell a guy I had breast cancer felt embarrassing. It certainly wasn’t very sexy. How would he respond? How would I want him to respond?I nervously dialed his number not knowing how I would tell him. He answered and was very happy to hear from me. I paused not knowing if I should just come out with the news or try to catch up first. I attempted the former, but he noticed my voice shaking.“…is everything ok?”“Umm. Well, I guess…not really. I, umm, just found out…umm.” I started choking up as I forced back tears.“Asha. Talk to me. You’re getting me worried.”“I…ugh. It’s too embarrassing. I don’t want to tell you. You’re going to freak out and it’s kind of weird.”“You know me. I’m not going freak out. Please, just tell me what’s going on.”“I…have…ummm. I have…breast cancer.” The phone went silent. I pulled myself together for his sake and continued.“ I have surgery tomorrow and may have to go through chemotherapy,” I said.“I’ll be right over.”

Within twenty minutes he showed up at my apartment with a little teddy bear and some chocolates. We didn’t say much, but I didn’t need to. He just understood me and held me until my parents arrived shortly after.When the buzzer rang, I hesitated before letting my parents in. I knew it would be difficult keeping myself together when I saw their devastated faces. As I opened the door, I kept my eyes toward the floor to avoid eye contact. Before I could say hello, they enveloped me in a huge sandwich hug that lasted what seemed like forever. They didn’t want to let go. To break the high tension of the unfortunate reunion, I pulled away and introduced them to Ben before he left.My parents and I walked silently to the local restaurant down the street to get something quickly because I couldn’t eat after 8:00 p.m. due to surgery the next morning.

By this time, I had rationalized all the different possibilities and outcomes and how I would handle each.“So, here’s what I’ve figured out,” I told my parents almost in a joking tone as our food arrived. “Worst case scenario, I die. I’ve never wanted to live an “average” life. If I died at 24 years old of breast cancer, that certainly wouldn’t be normal. Then I will have accomplished one of my goals.”They didn’t look pleased and my dad interrupted, irritated with what I was saying.“Asha! You’re getting…” “Dad, I’m not done,” I said calmly. There are three other scenarios. Please just listen to my thought process.”He leaned back in his seat, almost angry with my honesty. We had never discussed death before and I had never realized what an uncomfortable subject it was.“Second worst, I need chemotherapy and lose my hair. I’ve always wondered what I would look like bald. Plus I’d have a chance to experiment with wigs and change my style a bit,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.They didn’t look amused. The next worst would be a little strange to say in front of my dad because I had never discussed anything remotely sexual with him including breasts. However, it was breast cancer we were dealing with here so the word ‘breast’ would have to come up at some point soon. It might as well be now.“Third worst, I have a mastectomy – either one or both of my breasts are removed. Maybe they could remove some fatty tissue from my rear end and enlarge my breasts.”My mom finally jumped in.“That’s the third worst? That seems much worse than losing your hair,” she said freaking out.“Mom, I’ve always wanted to upgrade from my normal 34A and my health insurance would cover it,” I said trying to look on the bright side. “But, best case scenario is that the cancer hasn’t spread, and hopefully I can live a normal life after treatment. “I just hope I can still have kids.” I had rationalized this all before they came, but it was the first time saying it out loud.

My parents just listened as I talked. I felt like I was reciting a monologue in a really bad movie.Dinner was uncomfortable to say the least. No one knew what to say and I tried to break the silence by making jokes. They sat motionless just staring at their uneaten pizza. I attempted to eat as much of my pasta as I could because I knew I wouldn’t be eating all day tomorrow but my stomach was upset. If they looked into my eyes, they would see how petrified I really was so I avoided all eye contact with them. I did glance up quickly a couple times to see how they were doing. They looked like they had aged ten years overnight.

After dinner we hugged goodbye and they headed to their hotel while I returned to my apartment. There I saw my roommates and I broke the news to them. They looked at me in stunned silence with mouths open trying to comprehend what I had said. Suddenly, they both grabbed and hugged me. I had been strong for the last couple hours and now I lost it again. I drenched their shoulders in tears. “I am so scared, guys. I have no idea what’s going to happen to me. I might be dying. I’ve never been this scared in my entire life.” They just held me and let me cry. The night before we had all been complaining about the line to get a drink at the bar. Now that didn’t seem so important.