“But you’re so young”: what it feels like to get breast cancer at age 27

Raffaella is only 27 years old when she feels a lump in her breast in the bathtub in 2020. She is a non-smoker, athletic and vegetarian. Still It Caught Her: Breast Cancer Diagnosis.

“But you’re still so young!” — she’s heard this phrase all the time, she says. “Most people think breast cancer only gets to women over 40.” Even the now 30-year-old Hessin herself did not expect that she would get a malignant tumor from all people. Chemotherapy included.

She is now considered cancer-free, but is still being treated with hormones, saying, “A little bit of anxiety just stays.” She tells Watson how it feels.

In the middle of the Corona period, I first saw the knot that has turned my life upside down ever since. I had just taken a bath and noticed a lump on my chest. There was a knot in the fabric, with threads you can feel, but it didn’t hurt. It was in the middle of the lockdown and I was battling bronchitis. That’s why I couldn’t go to the doctor right away. I did tell my sisters about my discovery, but they said, “It will certainly be nothing. Just get it checked as soon as it’s possible again.” And that’s how I felt. It won’t be anything bad.

I am a non smoker, sports, eat vegetarian. There is no genetic predisposition in my family. So why would it have happened to me?

Two weeks later I went to the gynecologist. She immediately referred me to a clinic, but also said: “You are so young. Let’s just make sure.” Even the head doctor at the clinic didn’t think it was anything bad, but they did a biopsy and sent the sample to the lab. Three days later, my phone rang.

“Please come by so we can discuss the results.” When I heard that, I already thought what was to come. After the diagnosis of breast cancer was pronounced in the doctor’s office, I could no longer hear what he was saying. There was so much fear and powerlessness. A wild carousel of thoughts. I thought: is that it for me now?

That’s why I couldn’t wait for the surgery two weeks later. They completely removed the malignant tumor and it did not appear to have spread. Still, just to be sure, I was advised to have chemotherapy afterwards. Especially since I’m still so young.

I had to undergo chemotherapy for a total of 24 weeks. In the beginning it was very difficult: The drug combination you get seemed like a hangover that lasted several days. I was nauseous, I had no more energy and my appetite was gone. On bad days, I stayed with my sisters and friends, who cooked and cheered me up. It is very important not to be left alone during this time.

Even when my hair fell out, my siblings were there. I knew this would happen and had cut my hair short beforehand to absorb the shock a bit. When the hair just fell off my head, I called my sisters.

They came up to me and started shaving, not without giving me a harder first. I cried when I saw myself like this in the mirror. It was good to be able to laugh in the midst of this disease, which is not funny at all.

When I talk to people about my illness, the reaction is always the same: “But you’re still so young!” – this phrase is used very often. For most, breast cancer is a disease that mainly affects older women. Unfortunately, I am now living proof that it can be done much sooner.

So far the first genetic tests have not shown any predisposition, so all you have to say is: Sometimes you’re just unlucky. I often wondered why it touched me at first, but then quickly put it down again. It’s no use getting mad about it. I’m pretty glad I noticed the tumor so early and now I’m concentrating on getting better.

My age raises very different questions: chemotherapy, for example, often leads to infertility. So I had to decide within a few days whether I wanted to freeze half an ovary and eventually—and only with a 40 percent chance—have children. I’m single and never really thought about it, but suddenly this kid’s question was very acute and had to be answered immediately. That was very difficult. In the end I decided to keep an ovary, you never know what you want in a few years.

A mastectomy (editor’s note: complete removal of the mammary gland) is also still under discussion. A more comprehensive genetic test should provide information about whether it’s worth it to me. So there is still a little bit to look forward to: after the chemo I started anti-hormone therapy, which is still ongoing.

For a total of five years I have to take pills and get an injection every quarter. This treatment puts me in a kind of early menopauseWhat’s not nice: I feel like I have a hot flash every half hour, but I try to slow down the side effects as much as possible through exercise and a healthy diet.

The issues I’ve been dealing with in recent years are far removed from those around me. They talk about babies or where the next trip is going. I find it funny sometimes. I notice that some people want nothing to do with the topic of cancercan’t even talk about it. Others like to listen to me and are there for me. That is incredibly valuable to me.

Cancer, especially at such a young age, raises new questions: Even if I get through this, what about my life expectancy? Sometimes I have three days in a row where I don’t even think about cancer, like everything is back to normal. But then the thoughts come back. A little fear just remains.

People often ask me what I want to change now. But much was as good as it was. I am satisfied and happy with the people I have around me. The only thing I’ve made a point of is to appreciate the little things more and realize achievable wishes immediately, don’t delay anything anymore: That’s how I started working as a tattoo artist.

I want to encourage people who, like me, have had or just been diagnosed with cancer: There are good days and bad days and that’s okay. It helps to just go step by step. Life can be carefree again, happy, even if you can hardly imagine it in bad phases.

Doctors are currently calling me “cancer free,” but I won’t be considered “cured” until my treatment is over and nothing grows back. Then I am about 33 years old. I can’t imagine how liberating that must feel, but I’m already looking ahead: With each year that goes by without a cancer flare-up, stones fall from my heart. I hope it stays that way, because I am convinced that there is much life waiting for me in the future.