My name is Khadijah Carter and I am a 31 year old Breast Cancer Survivor. I never imagined that I’d have to utter such words, but on a cold December morning in 2002 my life changed forever. As I laid on my five-year-old daughter’s bed, I touched my left breast and felt a lump. “'Oh my God I do not want to die!'' I exclaimed. I rushed to the phone and called my friend whose aunt had passed away from breast cancer. I told her about my discovery. She said that the lump was probably there because of my period. But I was in tune with my body and did not feel comfortable with her response.

In January 2003, after my gynecologist examined my breasts, he announced: ''…it’s probably nothing since you’re only 28 years old, but I will send you for a breast sonogram…'' When February came and it was time for the appointment, I contemplated not going. I had altogether pushed the idea that something was wrong out of my mind; nonetheless, I went. As the technician pressed the device firmly on the lump she said, ''I do see something that should be highlighted to the radiology doctor”. When the doctor looked at the monitor, I noticed a tinge of concern in her eyes as she told me to come back for a breast biopsy.'' That is when I felt worried. Yet, in between the next appointment, I continued life as normal: volunteering at my daughter’s school, running my boutique Public Relations Company, singing with my band.

The breast biopsy was performed in March. In April, my gynecologist gave me the results that I had Stage III invasive breast cancer. I was in total shock. Since I had been adopted, I wondered if my fate was genetic. I cried in between trying to take notes about his recommendations and take it all in.

When I went home I began the daunting task of telling my friends and family about the situation. Informing my fiancée was the most difficult part. I comforted my daughter although she was oblivious to the inner turmoil that I was experiencing. I didn’t want to worry her so I only told her that “Mommy’s breast is sick.”

Over the next few days, I spent countless hours researching breast cancer treatments and eventually decided to move my case from the original hospital because I did not feel that they were responsive to my concerns. I’d accepted that since the tumor was aggressive I should have a mastectomy. But I did not accept them not wanting to reconstruct my breasts immediately after surgery. I was adamant about this because I was a young woman and refused to leave the hospital with only one breast! My new medical team understood my concerns, which made things much easier.

After my surgery, my doctors said that my prognosis was good but recommended that I take chemotherapy as an ''insurance policy'' and Tamoxifen, a hormonal therapy, for five years. I was totally against the idea of taking chemo because I did not want to lose my hair. After a few weeks, the prayers of my loved ones penetrated my resistance and I started chemo in August, which lasted through November 2003. As I feared, I lost my hair, but decided to embrace my bald and beautiful look. Despite experiencing some dark days, I felt that being optimistic would contribute to my healing. And it has.

Today, I have a renewed spirit. I am not a victim; I have power through God who strengthens me. I accept my life as it is. I encourage women to be proactive with their health. Mostly, I want them to realize that despite whatever they’re going through, there is light at the end of the tunnel.