What were your symptoms?

Breast Cancer

None. The two areas of DCIS were discovered on a routine mammogram. The IDC was discovered on a standard-issue MRI I got post-diagnosis.

Rectal Cancer

In the interest of maybe helping someone save their own life, I’m going to be very blunt and graphic here. If you don’t like reading about gory, shitty medical things (literally) just skim or skip. It’s a good story, though.

I don’t remember exactly when my symptoms started. I think it was September or October 2025 when I noticed some bright red blood around my stool. This had happened very sporadically in the past, so I wasn’t particularly concerned. But this time, it lasted longer.

I did what we all do and Googled what I thought was going on: hemorrhoids. I learned there are internal and external hemorrhoids, and that they can be caused by lifting heavy weights. I had just joined a gym for the sole purpose of lifting heavier weights—and I was doing exactly that—so this explanation felt… convenient. Comforting, even.

Of course, the internet will tell you that you either have hemorrhoids or colorectal cancer.

So, I read the list of common colorectal cancer symptoms:

• Changes in bowel habits (diarrhea, constipation, narrowing of stool)
• Rectal bleeding (bright red, dark, or black/tarry stool)
• Abdominal discomfort (cramps, gas, bloating)
• Unexplained weight loss
• Weakness or fatigue, often due to anemia from blood loss

I mentally checked them off.

Rectal bleeding? Check.

Abdominal discomfort? No.

Unexplained weight loss? I’d lost about seven pounds over eight months. That didn’t feel dramatic or unexplained at all given the gym, eating changes, and stress.

Weakness or fatigue? Nothing out of the ordinary.

Over the age of 50? Nope.

Family history? Yes—but my relative was in her 60s and it was caught early.

So I shrugged it off.

But then the bleeding lasted a couple weeks and didn’t go away with Preparation H or eliminating dairy (a previously known GI trigger) from my diet for two weeks. So I made an appointment with a new primary care provider–new insurance, new doctor.

This was October. The first available appointment was December 2. 

I went in, did the standard new-patient intake, and when she asked if I had any symptoms I was concerned about, I told her about the bleeding. She did a quick exam. We joked about getting so close during our first visit. She said she’d refer me to a GI specialist, who would likely order a colonoscopy—mostly to rule out colorectal cancer and confirm what she thought were internal hemorrhoids.

I asked if I could do Cologuard. She said no because I had a family history of colon cancer.

She asked if I was working out. I said yes, I was lifting heavier. She suggested I might want to take a break to see if that helped.

There was absolutely no chance I was going to stop lifting on my own—but I had my first breast biopsy scheduled in six days and would have to stop for five days anyway. She sent me on my way.

The GI specialist she recommended didn’t take my insurance. I found another one. Their first available appointment? February 18.

Not ideal. But this is how the medical system works. I took it and asked to be put on the cancellation list.

I did my breast biopsy and didn’t go to the gym. My symptoms continued. And, if I recall correctly, they started getting worse. I think the shape of my stool changed a little.

On December 15, I was diagnosed with breast cancer.

On December 18, I met with my breast surgeon and learned I would need surgery and two more biopsies—one of them an MRI-guided biopsy that couldn’t be scheduled until January 23. Results could take up to two weeks. Surgery would likely be scheduled two weeks after that, around mid-February.

Which meant my GI appointment—scheduled for the same week—would need to be pushed back.

Or… I could call the GI office again and ask if there were any cancellations, even though they told me I was already on a cancellation list.

This next move—aside from sticking with my regular mammograms—might be the one that saved my life.

I picked up the phone, called the GI doctor’s office, and pulled out the cancer card for the first time.

“I was just diagnosed with breast cancer,” I said. “Is there any way I can get in sooner?”

They told me if I didn’t mind seeing a nurse practitioner, they could get me in on December 31.

I didn’t give a fuck. All I wanted was the colonoscopy referral. By this time my symptoms were genuinely concerning. And also–I have cancer.

I saw the NP on December 31. By then, my symptoms included what I’ll call “leaking”—meaning small amounts of liquid stool, with blood, came out almost every time I urinated. We talked about hemorrhoids, how they can block things, and I asked about pelvic floor physical therapy. She said we’d wait on that until the colonoscopy results came back.

The first available colonoscopy appointment was January 21—the day before my final breast biopsy. I took it.

Between that appointment with the NP and my colonoscopy my second breast biopsy came back positive with DCIS. I now had two confirmed cancerous areas in my left breast.

I did the colonoscopy prep (yes, it sucks, but not as much as cancer sucks) and went in for the procedure. By then, I knew something was wrong. My stool had changed again—still leaky, and when it wasn’t, it was narrowing.

My friend Laura and I convinced ourselves I just had such chronic constipation that it felt normal to me. We’d sort it out after the colonoscopy.

When I woke up, the doctor came into the recovery room, held my hand, looked me in the eye, and said—very gently—that they’d found a mass. He thought they’d caught it early. He’d already ordered an ultrasound, and he’d already called a colorectal surgeon so I could meet with them the following week.

Still groggy from anesthesia, I looked at him and said,

“Dr. M, it’s okay. You’re the third person in a month who’s told me I have cancer. It’s fine.”

The next morning, January 22, I had my final breast biopsy—the MRI-guided one that had been scheduled weeks earlier. While I was in that procedure, I missed a call from the colorectal surgeon’s office.

I called them back from the lobby of the Inova Schar Cancer Center, where I was getting my breast care. (The colorectal team was at VHC at that point.)

They told me they needed me to come in that day for two CT scans—chest and abdomen—and an MRI of my pelvis. Could I be there at 5:45pm?

By now, I had learned that once cancer enters the chat, the medical system suddenly moves at warp speed. And thank God for that.

They’d also scheduled me for an ultrasound and sigmoidoscopy the following Wednesday, along with a meeting with the colorectal surgeon. Was I free?

Yes. I was free.

I had the CTs and MRI that evening. Two days later—Friday, January 23—the CT results hit MyChart: clear, except for the rectal mass. Then the MRI results came in. They confirmed the mass and said Stage 3.

I was terrified.

Two hours later, a nurse called to say MRIs can over stage, but it was definitely cancer. Final staging would come after the ultrasound the following week.

The next Wednesday, January 28, I had the ultrasound and sigmoidoscopy. Immediately afterward, the surgeon came in and told me they confirmed what the MRI showed.

Stage three rectal cancer. 

I needed full neoadjuvant treatment: chemo, radiation, surgery. He’d already called the oncologist. My appointment was on Monday.

What the fuck?

And that’s how I found out I have stage three rectal cancer–now two primary cancers, diagnosed one month and 13 days from each other.