This story isn’t easy to tell—or to hear.

It’s messy, frustrating, painful, and at times, completely surreal. But it’s mine. And now that you’re here, you’re part of it too.

It started in late summer 2024 when I found a lump in my breast. I did what we’re all taught to do: I got a diagnostic mammogram. The verdict? Dense tissue. Totally normal. Nothing alarming. Just keep an eye on it. So I left that appointment relieved—not worried.

Until I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Early 2025: Something Isn't Right

In early February 2025, I noticed the lump was growing. My breast was visibly changing. Something deep down told me this wasn’t just dense tissue anymore.

I tried getting in to see my primary care provider, but the earliest appointment wasn’t until April. So they sent me to a walk-in clinic instead. The nurse practitioner there was kind but unsure—she ordered a diagnostic mammogram and ultrasound… for the end of April.

Then, in early March, the pain started. That’s when I was finally referred to a breast surgeon. I saw her at the end of March, and she moved quickly—booking my diagnostic mammogram and ultrasound for the beginning of April, along with an MRI scheduled two weeks later. We were finally gaining traction.

Until we weren’t.

The Breakdown in the System

On my way to the mammogram, I got a call: the machine was down. The appointment was canceled. The soonest they could reschedule was May 12th.

Then my MRI was denied. The request was denied by insurance, and nobody followed up. That was missed too.

By mid-May, I was done waiting. I went to my breast surgeon’s office in person and pleaded for help. The mass was growing fast. I couldn’t afford more delays.

I finally got in for my diagnostic mammogram and ultrasound on April 23rd (yes—before the reschedule).
Then came a biopsy on May 5th, and the MRI on May 9th.

The results?

A 9 cm mass in my right breast.

May 15, 2025: The Day Everything Changed

On the morning of May 15th, we got the preliminary biopsy results: vascular neoplasm.
That could mean anything—benign or malignant.

Later that same day, around 6:00 PM, the official results came in:
Primary Angiosarcoma of the Breast.

When You Hear “Cancer”—And It’s This Cancer

Never heard of it? I hadn’t either.
It’s rare. It’s aggressive. It starts in the cells lining blood vessels.
Breast angiosarcoma makes up less than 0.05% of all breast cancers. You can’t Google your way through this one.

My world cracked wide open. Cancer? Me? And this kind?

Someone gave me advice I’ll never forget:
“Kendra, you need a team.”

Not just doctors—a team of warriors. People who could go to battle with me.

Building the Plan, Then Changing Everything

My first call was to MD Anderson in Houston—one of the top cancer centers in the world. But with excellence comes process. They needed every single record, scan, and pathology slide.

While we gathered everything, we met with a strong team in Nashville. They had a plan: chemo, then surgery, then radiation. My port was scheduled. Treatment was just days away.

And then, MD Anderson called.

They wanted me in Houston next week.

Houston Becomes Home

I froze. Do I stick to the plan or start over?

One call with MD Anderson’s nurse practitioner made it clear. She walked me through every step of their approach. I felt hope. I felt seen.

We packed up and drove to Houston.
It’s home for now.

Still Here. Still Fighting.

I’m lucky. I’ve got a fierce crew making sure I can stay here and get the best care possible. MD Anderson lives up to its reputation. They’re brilliant, kind, and unapologetically human.

And for the first time since this began—I feel safe. I feel like I have a shot.

This is where I’ll share updates, reflections, and real-time lessons from this rare cancer rollercoaster.
The good, the hard, the unfiltered.

Thank you for being here.
Thank you for reading.

And if you’re sticking around for the ride—buckle up.
I’m over here while I Zen the cancer away.