Chapter One: When Breast Cancer Became Personal
Editor’s Note: Since this chapter was written, Breast Imaging Matters has officially become a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization. These chapters tell the story of how we got here and why this mission means so much to me.
Every mission has a beginning. This is ours.
If you had asked me ten years ago whether I would one day found a nonprofit dedicated to breast health, I would have laughed.
That was never the plan.
In 2016, I graduated from radiologic technology school and began my career in medical imaging. After my oldest son was born in 2017, I chose to specialize in mammography—a decision that would shape my career in ways I never could have imagined.
For nearly a decade, breast imaging became my world.
I loved being a mammographer.
Every day, I had the privilege of caring for women during one of the most important healthcare appointments of their lives. I performed mammograms, comforted anxious patients, guided women through callbacks, worked alongside radiologists, and celebrated when exams came back normal. I believed deeply in the importance of early detection, quality imaging, and compassionate patient care.
Looking back, I realize I understood breast imaging very well.
What I didn't understand was everything that came after a breast cancer diagnosis.
As mammographers, we play an important role in breast cancer detection, but we are only one chapter in a much larger story. After a woman leaves our department, her journey may continue with surgeons, medical oncologists, radiation oncologists, genetic counselors, nurse navigators, plastic surgeons, physical therapists, and many other healthcare professionals who help guide her through treatment and survivorship.
Until breast cancer touched my own family, I had never experienced that side of the journey.
Everything changed when my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer at 52.
In an instant, I went from being the mammographer...
to being the daughter.
The medical terms I used every day at work suddenly became personal.
Appointments weren't for my patients anymore.
They were for my mom.
Like so many families, we entered a world of biopsies, pathology reports, surgeries, treatment plans, and difficult conversations. I found myself learning alongside my family in a way I never had before.
As part of my mom's care, she underwent genetic testing.
Her results showed she carries a TP53 pathogenic variant.
Because of her results, I chose to undergo genetic testing as well.
Like most people, I thought the biggest question would be whether I carried the same genetic variant.
I did.
But what changed the direction of my life wasn't just my genetic testing results.
It was something I almost overlooked.
Before meeting with the genetic counselor, I completed a detailed questionnaire about my personal and family history of cancer.
It asked about relatives on both sides of my family, the types of cancer they had, the ages they were diagnosed, and other pieces of my medical history.
I had completed family history forms before.
This one was different.
The information wasn't simply documented.
It was entered into a validated breast cancer risk model.
Until that moment, I had never experienced the process myself. I had spent years caring for thousands of women having mammograms, yet I had never been the person completing a formal breast cancer risk assessment. Seeing my own family history translated into a lifetime breast cancer risk score gave me an entirely different perspective.
For the first time in my life, I saw my lifetime breast cancer risk formally calculated.
That moment stopped me in my tracks.
As a mammographer, I knew breast cancer risk models existed.
But I had never stopped to think about when most women actually receive one.
The more I reflected on my own experience, the more one realization stayed with me.
Women share their family history every day.
They tell their primary care provider.
They tell their OB-GYN.
They complete health questionnaires.
They answer questions about parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and siblings.
Yet, in my experience as a mammographer, many women are not having that information translated into a formal, validated lifetime breast cancer risk assessment before their first screening mammogram.
For many women, that assessment confirms they are at average risk. For others, it can identify a need for earlier screening, additional imaging, genetic counseling, or conversations with their healthcare team.
Instead, many women first learn whether they may be considered high risk when they arrive for their first screening mammogram—often around age 40.
That realization changed everything for me.
I couldn't stop thinking about the woman who qualified for earlier screening but didn't know it.
The woman who may have qualified for annual breast MRI years before her first mammogram.
The daughter whose family history had been documented over and over again, yet no one had translated that history into a personalized lifetime breast cancer risk assessment.
It wasn't the genetic test alone that changed my life.
It was finally understanding what my family's history meant for me.
I couldn't stop asking myself...
Why are we waiting until a woman's first mammogram to calculate information she may have known for years?
The more I thought about it, the more one question refused to leave me.
It followed me home after work.
It stayed with me during quiet moments.
It became impossible to ignore.
What if every woman knew her breast cancer risk before her first mammogram?
At the time, I had no idea that one question would completely change the direction of my life.
I certainly didn't know it would one day become Breast Imaging Matters.
Looking back now, I can see that this wasn't the end of my story.
It was the beginning.
The beginning of asking better questions.
The beginning of challenging what I thought I knew.
The beginning of a mission that continues today.
But before any of that happened...
I had to find the answers.
(Coming soon) Continue Reading → Chapter Two: The Question I Couldn't Stop Asking
Ashley Flurry, RT(R)(M)
Founder, Breast Imaging Matters
