I’m Kelly and I have a twin sister, Tricia, affectionately known as "my other half." I am a 30-year-old, two-time survivor of cancer. I was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s disease at age 17, during the time in which my mother battled and lost her fight against breast cancer. She was mis-diagnosed at 42 and dead at 44.

I stayed in remission for a decade. Then, in July 1996, I just could not sleep one night. Something or someone, my guardian angel perhaps, kept urging me to do a breast exam. At age 27? How ridiculous, I thought! I’ll wait until I’m 40. I did the breast exam and sure enough, I found a swelling high and deep in my right breast. I told my husband Burr about it later that morning. "You’d better get it checked," he advised without hesitation. I did, by three specialists. An oncologist said, "It’s nothing"; a gynecologist said, "It’s just a normal gland"; and the radiologist who read my mammogram said it looked like "benign fibrous tissue." Luckily, he recommended a biopsy.

Burr and I wanted the results of the biopsy ASAP even if it meant getting them via telephone. The phone rang at 5:02 p.m. Friday evening. All I remember the surgeon saying was, "It is a malignancy." Sometimes those words still echo in my mind. I felt like I was on the phone forever. "How can this be?!," I cried and screamed. "Three doctors told me it was nothing!" "Well," he replied matter-of-factly, "I didn’t tell you it was ‘nothing’." Then he said, "Is your husband there?" Lying awake and then walking around the dark house at 2:00 a.m. on the night of the diagnosis was one of the worst and loneliest feelings in the world. So much ahead of us. So much uncertainty.

Thus began my second journey into the isolated world of cancer, "The Big C,” unfortunately, what many people perceive as a death sentence. But it doesn’t have to be that way.

If I learned one thing from this entire experience, it’s that women must listen to their hearts and minds. If you think something is wrong, don’t put it off -- do something now. You might be saving your own life. I never wanted to believe that I, all of 27, had breast cancer but I knew that swelling shouldn’t have been there, and I just wanted it out as soon as possible.

My advice? Get a second, third, and fourth opinion. If you find a breast lump, do not hesitate to get it checked. Don’t be afraid to ask your doctor(s) questions. And if you do chemotherapy and/or radiation, demand what you want -- for instance, additional nausea medication if what you have isn’t working. Something out there will help you -- you just need to find it. Don’t be afraid to be your own advocate!

The most important thing Burr reminded me of throughout this ordeal was that “There is an end in sight.” Chemo and all that fun stuff wouldn’t last forever. And he was right. Shortly after my diagnosis, I had a mastectomy and did chemo "fourever" -- for four grueling months, but I made it! (Sometimes I wonder if it is coincidental that my first name, Kelly, means “Warrior woman.” I never liked the name Kelly, but I do like its meaning!) Here I am, two years later with a full head of hair and in the process of reconstructive surgery. A new chapter has opened in my life and sometimes I think that the reason for my getting two cancers so early on in life is so I could help people deal with such a devastating turn of events.

An important note: With our family history, Tricia’s chances of getting breast cancer were 90% plus. She decided to have a subcutaneous mastectomy as a preventative measure.