Healing and Hustling with Zandra

One of the hardest parts of this journey has been finding the right way to share the news with the people I care about. After much thought, I decided to draft an email to my colleagues. I’ve always valued transparency, and I wanted to be open about my situation with everyone I work with. We’ve built a wonderful working relationship over the years, and I didn’t want anyone to feel isolated or burdened by holding this secret.

The response was overwhelming. My inbox was flooded with messages of support and encouragement, and I was deeply grateful. Knowing that my team was behind me gave me a sense of comfort during such an uncertain time.

While all this was happening, I took a couple of days off to focus on my kids as they started their first days back at school after summer break. It was important for me to be there for them, to give them as much normalcy as possible. But amidst the back-to-school chaos, I received a couple of calls from Mayo Clinic about upcoming appointments. Two of these are scheduled for tomorrow morning, and I can’t help but feel anxious about what those conversations will bring.

First Day Back at Work: A Rollercoaster of Emotions

Returning to work after sharing my diagnosis with my colleagues was nerve-wracking. I wasn’t sure how they would react or if things would feel different. As I approached my office, I was met with an unexpected gesture of support—one of my coworkers got up from his chair and, without saying a word, wrapped his arms around me in a warm hug. Not long after, another colleague did the same. It was a comforting reminder that I wasn’t alone in this.

A couple of hours after arriving, it was time to leave for my appointment. As I got to my truck, it decided that now was the perfect time to have car trouble—it wouldn’t start. Of all the moments, this was not the time for it. I had to think fast, so I asked a coworker for a ride, and thankfully, I arrived on time.

After waiting 45 minutes in the room, the doctor finally came in. She shared a lot of information, but what stuck with me most was the diagnosis: Triple Negative Breast Cancer, early stage 2. And then she said the words I was dreading—chemotherapy would be part of my treatment. I had been holding onto hope that I could avoid chemo, but she emphasized that it was early stage 2 and curable, which offered some reassurance.

My second appointment was with the Psych doctor. It was a lengthy session filled with questions and a recounting of how I ended up there, along with the added weight of my recent diagnosis. It was emotionally draining, but necessary.

When I was done, my work bestie picked me up and surprised me with some good news—my colleagues had already fixed my truck. It was such a relief and brought me so much joy to see the support pouring in from all sides.