The holiday season is meant for family, decorating, buying gifts and being happy. However, the 2015 season felt completely different since getting the news that I needed a biopsy on my left breast. We had Thanksgiving dinner at our house, and it was nice to feel the support from my family. I decided not to tell many people simply because I didn't want everyone to worry. This meant, especially, my 9-year-old daughter didn't need any worries. We are close, and she knows that sometimes people who have cancer don't always survive. My philosophy was to tell her when I had something to report, and not just speculation. My mother is a nurse, a cancer specialist, and clinical researcher. I'm fortunate to know someone so knowledgeable. We talked about my potential choices. She said that if she faced breast cancer, she would have a mastectomy. The idea of having a mastectomy seemed so foreign and scary that I couldn't wrap my mind around it. My family and I sat in disbelief that this was happening. After the Thanksgiving weekend passed and life resumed to normal, I sat one afternoon staring at the business card of an oncologist given to me after my ultrasound. I didn't want to call to make an appointment. It was just one more step in making everything more real. My husband came home from nursing school and sat with me as I called. A lump formed in my throat as I heard the receptionist say "oncologist office." I explained everything to her, and she nicely set up an appointment.