It was the summer after my 10th grade year in high school. It was hot, the way it always is in Houston. I was running around the house in a swimsuit after swimming with some friends, and laid back on my bed. I went to rest my right hand on my chest, and felt something out of the ordinary. I moved my fingers around a little, and realized that I was feeling a lump in my left breast. I was a little concerned, because I had never had any lumps before, but not as concerned as some may have been, since Fibrocystic Breast Disease runs in my family. Both my mom and sister had been affected by it starting in their teenage years. I was nervous, so I called my mom upstairs to come check it out. She felt it and suggested that I give the doctor a call to get it checked out. Since I was still a minor, she would have to come to the doctor with me, so we had to figure out a time that would be good for the both of us, since we would both have to miss school--she was a 5th grade teacher at the time. In her early 50's, she had not had a mammogram in almost 10 years. She figured that since she was going to have to take off work to take me anyways, she would go ahead and 'kill two birds with one stone' and go ahead and schedule her mammogram for the same time. We thought nothing of it; it was just convenient timing. When it came time for the appointment, I had my ultrasound and she had her mammogram. It was determined that my tumor was benign. Everything seemed fine. It was not until we got a call back from the mammogram technicians that things started to feel off. There were some technical difficulties with the machine--or the films--or something. Either way, there was a problem, and my mom had to go back for another mammogram. After the second one, there was, yet again, another issue. She had to go back again. This time they were the bearers of bad news. My mom had breast cancer. Not sure whether the world 'luckily' would fit well or not, but she was diagnosed with DCIS. I remember everything about the day that they told me. I knew it was coming. I had felt it when I walked in the door that day. After the diagnosis, she had 3 lumpectomies, and finally a mastectomy, and reconstructive surgery. Although she did not have to suffer through chemo, it was still a very difficult journey. The surgeries were grueling and seemed to be constant and last forever. She couldn't move her arm the same, she didn't have energy, she couldn't teach her 5th graders. I took it the hardest of the four kids, being the youngest and the last one at home. I felt like I was dealing with it alone, even though I had 3 siblings. I was mad a lot. I didn't want life to change, but it had. My mom has often said she credits me with saving her life. Her type of breast cancer is difficult to detect and it was almost by a miracle that they were able to find it thorough her mammogram. She says that had I never found my first tumor, that it is likely they would not have caught it so early. Finding a tumor these days for me is bittersweet. It wrecks my nerves because now breast cancer is in my family, but it reminds me to always be aware. We share a strong, loving bond that can never be broken.