In August 2022, while on a family vacation in Nantucket, I felt a lump in my right breast. It was large, but I assumed it was a cyst. I already had my annual mammogram scheduled for later that month, and I didn’t want fear to interrupt a trip centered around family and togetherness. For the moment, I chose to ignore it.

Three weeks later, my world changed.

I was diagnosed with Stage IV metastatic breast cancer.

Just months earlier, during a routine exam in March, my physician had found nothing. That is how quickly this cancer grew. By the time it was discovered, the tumor was the size of a grapefruit. The shock was overwhelming. I felt blindsided and terrified, struggling to understand how something could escalate so quickly.

In the midst of fear and uncertainty, I turned to close friends who are physicians, searching for clarity in the chaos. The most grounding advice I received was simple but powerful: take it one day at a time.

What followed was a month of constant testing — scans, biopsies, bloodwork, and genetic screening. That genetic test revealed that I carry the BRCA2 gene mutation, a discovery that reframed everything I thought I knew about my health and my family history.

I immediately encouraged my family members to be tested. My father, who previously had prostate cancer, tested negative, as did my siblings. My mother passed away at age 50 from lung cancer, and while she was never tested, there is a significant cancer history on her side of the family. Based on this history, my doctors and genetic counselor believe the mutation came from my mother’s side.

If I had been encouraged to pursue genetic testing earlier, my story might look very different today.

That realization is painful — but it is also powerful.

It is the reason I founded The OuR Joy Foundation.

I believe deeply in the importance of early genetic testing, education, and self-advocacy. Too many people do not know their risk, do not know what questions to ask, or do not realize they should be asking them at all. Knowledge is power — and access to that knowledge can be life-changing.

Today, I continue to live with metastatic breast cancer. This journey has not been linear, predictable, or fair — but it has been clarifying. Each challenge reinforces why this work matters: listening to your body matters, advocating for yourself matters, and no one should have to navigate a frightening diagnosis alone.

Through The OuR Joy Foundation, our mission is clear:
to educate, empower, and support individuals and families so they can make informed decisions about their health — earlier, and with confidence.

Even in uncertainty, I choose courage.
Even in fear, I choose community.
And even in this fight, I choose joy.