As Breast Cancer Awareness Month comes to a close, we reflect on the voices and experiences of those whose lives have been touched by breast cancer. Today, we bring you three powerful stories from women who share their unique journeys—each offering a perspective on the complexities of recurrence, survival and reclaiming life after diagnosis.
Clea Shearer, co-host of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition and co-founder of The Home Edit, talks about her transformative cancer journey and the shift in priorities that came after her diagnosis.
Melissa Berry, creator of Cancer Fashionista, shares how breast cancer impacted her perspective on intimacy, self-care and her mission to support other survivors through her new podcast, Empowered Intimacy: Getting Your Sexy Back After Breast Cancer.
Finally, Reshma Gopaldas, vice president of video for SHE Media, reflects on her experience with recurrence, the emotional toll of ongoing medical surveillance, and the importance of being open about her journey to help others.
These three stories serve as both a tribute and a beacon for anyone who has ever faced this journey—reminding us all that there is power in sharing, in supporting one another and in finding strength in the most vulnerable of moments.
Each of these women offers a glimpse into what it means to live with breast cancer, to survive it and to thrive despite it. Together, their stories paint a picture of hope, courage and the relentless spirit that keeps them moving forward. Just because October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be celebrating all of the courageous women who fight this battle every day of every month of every year.
‘My Extreme Makeover: Health Edition—How Breast Cancer Treatment Has Changed Every Aspect of My Life’
By Clea Shearer, as told to Mara Santilli
From March 8, 2022, the day I was diagnosed with Stage II HR positive, HER2 negative breast cancer, a common, but significantly aggressive estrogen-positive form of cancer, to November 22, 2022, my goal was being “cancer free” and hitting the milestone of “no evidence of disease.”
I had a purpose to focus on: getting through chemotherapy and being able to get back to living my life without cancer. But after that November day, which officially marked my survivorship anniversary, of not having active cancer cell growth, I felt lost. The journey wasn’t over, and the type of cancer I survived has a high risk of recurrence, so it feels like it’ll never really be behind me.
I needed a reset and some time to think about the bigger picture of my goals for mental and physical health.
It took me until January 2023 to map this out: What would be my treatment plan? Would I need future surgeries, monthly infusion injections or medication?
My hormone positive and HER2 negative cancer was caught early thankfully, but the best course of action was to start a medication called Verzenio that works with hormone therapy to reduce estrogen and inhibit the growth of certain proteins that can speed up cancer cell development. Getting the medication and having a plan at least helped me feel more grounded and able to understand what I could expect moving forward.
Either way, almost everything about my life has been impacted by breast cancer.
My organs have been one of the epicenters of those shifts. The new goal in order to stay cancer-free is to shut down hormone production, which I first did with an infusion therapy, and then elected to have a preventative oophorectomy, the removal of the ovaries and fallopian tubes, in June 2024.
I ended up having enough time to make a full recovery this summer, which accommodated the fall filming schedule of my show, Extreme Makeover: Home Edition: Yes, we really do lift things and participate in the construction of the homes. But rest and healing was the most important aspect this past summer.
Previously, my entire life was about juggling work and home, as building my brand The Home Edit took up so much of my life.
But one of the major mental shifts for me after being diagnosed was the change in perspective: I wake up every day prioritizing my health. No one is going to physically do that for me, so I have to take my health in my own hands. I’ve undergone a complete paradigm shift in that my own mental and physical health needs to come first, and then my family, and then work.
Having breast cancer and going through various types of treatment has taught me just how strong I am. I was worried about getting through cancer and the treatments, but I can recognize that I did it with strength and fortitude. The fact that I had never had surgery in my life prior to this heightened my anxiety, but now I’ve gone through six surgeries since being diagnosed.
Another thing this experience has taught me is exactly how to be my own advocate.
That’s what has saved my life.
When I first found my lump [in my breast], I contacted my former OB-GYN, who said they were completely booked with appointments. But I was sure something was there. I was diagnosed that March, not long after, with an aggressive form of breast cancer, at stage II. If I had not gone right away to my primary care doctor after that and advocated for myself, it might have been stage III by the time I got diagnosed.
Beyond advocacy for myself, my current focus is public advocacy about breast cancer and supporting others who might be going through a similar process.
What more people need to understand is that a breast cancer diagnosis is so multi-pronged; the diagnosis of the exact factors in the tumors (such as hormonal or non-hormonal) affects what kind of chemo, surgeries and subsequent treatments you’ll have. It’s not as singular as people might think when they hear “you have breast cancer.”
I’m in this for the long haul, fighting the potential recurrence of cancer, but I can continue to celebrate where I am, and the fact that I’ve made it through things I never thought I could, like six surgeries. These are huge accomplishments, and not ones I thought I’d have under my belt given that I’ve co-founded a multi-media brand like The Home Edit and am co-hosting Extreme Makeover: Home Edition, but the ones that I’m most proud of.
‘Breast Cancer Shifted My Perspective on Intimacy, Sex and Self Care—It Was the First Time I’ve Ever Used a Vibrator’
By Melissa Berry, as told to Mara Santilli
The prologue to my journey with breast cancer started with my diagnosis with the BRCA gene. There have been many occurrences of breast cancer in my family, and my mother had tested positive for the BRCA mutation.
My positive genetic test came at age 32, which ultimately saved my life—from there I was going for preventative MRI screenings and making healthy lifestyle changes like doing yoga and eating tons of greens.
When I was 39, my oncologist suggested that I have a prophylactic oophorectomy, or removal of the ovaries. That spun me into surgical menopause and was the first major change in a series of hormonal and sexual shifts.
Three years later, I was diagnosed with stage I triple negative breast cancer, which is one of the more aggressive types of breast cancer. I would later have both an intense regimen of chemotherapy plus a bilateral mastectomy—which came with a great sense of loss, body image-wise.
I was glad that the tumors were removed, but I felt like my breasts weren’t mine anymore. How do you say goodbye to a part of your body that nursed your babies, that allowed you to put on a beautiful bra on your wedding day? It seemed like my femininity and sensuality were taken away—and that had such a profound impact on sex and intimacy for me.
After the mastectomy came the reconstructive surgery process, which starts with uncomfortable expanders that are eventually filled with fluid to determine size and replaced by implants; that was followed by a nipple construction to return to the aesthetic I was hoping for.
The dysmorphia is real though: It took me at least seven or eight years to feel like these implants were part of my body. On top of that, being able to experience less physical sensation in my breasts, exacerbated the vaginal dryness and pain with penetration that came with early menopause and were already putting a huge damper on my sex life. My nipples were really important to me when it came to pleasure with intimacy, and now they were gone; that was difficult to reckon with.
But in a way, going through cancer allowed me to broaden my own definition of intimacy and sex.
Intimacy does not need to mean penetration—you do not have to have full-on penetrative sex to have pleasure. It’s about getting creative to fulfill this need, and that’s the case especially if you’re in the midst of treatment. Being intimate with or without a partner can mean holding hands, kissing, snuggling on the couch, reading to each other, or using a vibrator as a method of self-care to release endorphins.
Even if you are in treatment for breast cancer, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to take care of yourself in that way—that part of you shouldn’t die. I didn’t use a vibrator until after my divorce and after having breast cancer. I had to come to terms with that permission to feel sexy and sensual in my own way (which can be putting on some bright lipstick or a sheer camisole, just for yourself).
It’s important to me to also debunk stigmas around treatment for any kind of sexual dysfunction.
Sex shouldn’t be so painful that you’re afraid to have intercourse due to dryness, like I was at one point during menopause. For me, my sex life was able to improve because I brought this issue to my gynecologist, who suggested hyaluronic acid vaginal suppositories to add to my daily vaginal “skincare” routine. I wouldn’t have found relief without breaking the stigma and coming forward about what I was going through.
Talking to other survivors about breast cancer and sex has inspired more of these conversations: I’ve launched a series about dating, cancer and sexuality called “Empowered Intimacy: Getting Your Sexy Back After Breast Cancer” on my regular podcast, Dear Cancer, I’m Beautiful. The idea started after a conversation with breast cancer survivor Ricki Fairley, co-founder of Touch, the Black Breast Cancer Alliance, who suggested my now co-host Deltra, who has metastatic breast cancer, as a podcast guest on the topic of being intimate with someone for the first time post-cancer. We totally hit it off and had a very eye-opening conversation about breast cancer, dating, and intimacy, and since this all couldn’t be covered in just one hour, it inspired me to create a podcast series dedicated to this important topic that isn’t being talked about enough.
In producing these episodes, Deltra and I feel like big sisters who can share wisdom with people going through similar things.
There are so many questions listeners, with or without breast cancer, may have: What’s it like to be on a dating app as a single woman in your 40s? Do you put that you have breast cancer in your profile, or tell a partner that you’ve had reconstructive surgery before being intimate? If you’re a metastatic patient, how do you explore that side of yourself and put yourself out there?
I wish I had these resources when I was going through my treatment and post-treatment phases.
The most important message here is to not lose faith in your sexuality or give up on feeling like a woman.
It’s hard to feel that when you’re going through cancer treatment—particularly if you have no brows, no hair, no breasts. Experiencing all of that is unfortunately part of the process. I’m here on the other side to tell you that there are so many ways to connect with yourself, and maybe even a partner too, and feel beautiful again.
’10 Years Cancer-Free—Until I Wasn’t: My Ongoing Battle with Breast Cancer Recurrence’
By Reshma Gopaldas, as told to Sandra Salathe
When I hit my 10-year anniversary of being cancer-free, I was ready to celebrate. But just when I was close to entering the survivorship program, a routine MRI revealed a shocking twist: an abnormality in the same breast where I had beaten cancer a decade earlier.
A biopsy revealed it was pre-cancerous tissue. In turn, I had to have a second lumpectomy, which was scheduled literally the same day, 10 years apart, that I had my first surgery. My same surgeon told me, “If we find cancerous tissue, we’ll recommend a mastectomy.” This second scare didn’t just bring back memories of my first battle—it reopened the door to a world of uncertainty, forcing me back into a cycle of constant testing and the lingering fear of recurrence.
But my story isn’t just about my own diagnosis—it’s, unfortunately, a family legacy. Starting with my maternal aunt, who was diagnosed with cancer in her late 50s, my mother in 2010, my cousin in 2012 and then me in 2014, breast cancer has cast a long shadow over the women in my family.
I was the youngest person in our family to be diagnosed and there was probably a 35-year age difference between when my mom got it and when I did. For me, the diagnosis came at a time in life when most women are thinking about starting families. Instead, I found myself grappling with surgery, radiation and long-term medication. I was at childbearing age, when one starts to think of having children, and instead, I was going through cancer treatment, and the prospect of having children biologically was diminishing with each day.
Both my mother and I underwent lumpectomies and radiation, but I was prescribed a pre-menopausal treatment called Tamoxifen, a common drug for younger women with estrogen and progesterone-positive breast cancer. Tamoxifen is great, but it does cause a lot of joint pain.
Fast forward to December 2023, and my world shifted again. After almost 10 years of clean scans, the MRI revealed precancerous tissue in the same left breast where I had first been diagnosed.
The news came as a surprise to say the least. In 2021, my oncologist had taken me off Tamoxifen, which brought welcome relief from the joint pain I had endured for years. In 2024, after 9 years of clear scans, this came up. Thankfully, they didn’t find a new cancer during the lumpectomy, but the tissue around indicates that my chances of developing a new breast cancer is fairly high.
My oncologist told me, ‘We’re looking at your old cancer as something that’s separate, and we’re putting you on Tamoxifen again to try and prevent you developing a new type of cancer.”
The way maintenance looks once you’ve had cancer is you have a mammogram once a year and an MRI once a year, spaced six months apart. But with the recent findings, my doctors now recommend two MRIs a year along with my annual mammogram.
I will also be going through new gene testing. I learned 94 new genes have been discovered since I was last gene tested 10 years ago. The genetic specialist said because of my family history, and because I was so young when I was diagnosed, they’ll be doing a deeper dive on my gene testing, including finding out if there are any gene links that indicate if I might develop ovarian cancer. See, tests are fun. Highly recommended. Bring your friends.
I will admit, it’s a lot of testing to go through – MRIs, mammograms, biopsies, blood tests, etc. It’s stressful when tests come back, and cancer is kind of lurking there. It’s not totally back, but the threat of it is. But sadly, this rollercoaster isn’t new to me. I vividly remember when my aunt was diagnosed with three new types of breast cancer a second time in 2022.
I was at dinner with a friend when I got the call, and I just burst into tears. But the most unsettling part of my recent experience has been receiving MRI reports before even hearing from my doctor.
For the last six months, I’ve been getting reports that say things like ‘MALIGNANT’ or ‘BENIGN’ in big letters before even speaking to my doctor. At least three times this year, I was under the impression I had cancer again because of those reports. It’s been very upsetting to say the least.
Throughout my journey, I’ve learned that the battle with cancer isn’t just physical—it’s also emotional, and it deeply affects those around me.
It was interesting. When I was first diagnosed, about 10 months later, we were at my mom’s birthday party, and someone asked her to give a toast. She said, “It’s been an incredibly difficult year for us,” and I remember thinking, “Why, what happened?” Oh. Yes. That’s right, your kid had cancer! It hit me that it’s probably harder for the people around you—your parents, your siblings, your friends—because they’re the ones taking care of you.
My family and friends have been amazing.
But where it gets really challenging is at work. Understanding how many doctor’s appointments, MRIs, scans and blood tests I have to go through is difficult. I don’t think corporations work that way—support is strong in the beginning, but long-term care is where I feel least supported. There’s not enough mental health support or understanding. That’s tough.
When someone is going through chemotherapy, they lose their hair. But when a lot of what you are going through have no outward symptoms, and you try and focus on staying happy and positive, people can’t really tell that it’s difficult.
Despite the ups and downs, I still try to be open about talking about what’s happening with my health. And here’s why. I found that it, by accident, started to help others think about their health and boobs, and remember to get their mammograms.
I’ve had friends of friends come up to me and say, “Reshma, I ended up getting my mammogram because of you, and I actually got diagnosed.” So if one vulnerable social media post I’ve written, usually with a mirror selfie of me in a hospital gown, before getting an MRI, helps one person get tested, that’s a win.
For self-care, I prioritize staying connected with loved ones and making room for moments of joy, even amid the demands of my health challenges. This year, I’ve focused on traveling more, visiting friends and spending quality time with my family. One of the highlights was staying with my parents for a week after my surgery—a rare opportunity to slow down and allow myself to be cared for.
My niece and nephew and my brother and sister-in-law are in Singapore, so I’ve been traveling to see them, which has been really nice. But because of work, I’m so busy, I don’t really get to see them as much as I’d like to. Yet, as much as I try to fill my life with joyful moments, the emotional toll of living with the threat of cancer recurrence continues to linger.
This year has been about navigating the trauma of it all. The return of precancerous tissue in 2023, and the subsequent spike in medical surveillance, has definitely weighed on me. I’ve been put back on Tamoxifen after having been on it for 7 years. I will have to be on it for another 5 years. Hot flashes, joint pain, does it get any better? And all while hoping it helps stave off new cancer. I’m just trying to figure out how I proceed, knowing I have this kind of cloud over my boobs, so to speak.
I wish I could say the cloud hanging over me doesn’t affect me. But it does. The goal is finding the days where an umbrella will help. Or maybe just letting it pour down on me, and being upset for a day, and then moving on. That’s what being a cancer survivor feels like. Is it going to rain today, will I remember my umbrella? Maybe it won’t rain at all. We can only hope.