Welcome To Entrepreneurship Today Blog: After Breast Cancer Diagnosis, Doses of Humor and Humility Spark Hope...

FIRST PERSON | Breast cancer hit home for me when I found myself on the floor with my head wedged between a trash can and a wall. Very rock and roll.

I fainted after removing bandages covering the scars from my first surgery.
When I came to, I was pushing against the wall, grunting and crying. The whole time, my sympathetic dog was standing by, wagging his tail and licking me. Not so rock and roll.
There have been other strange days -- a lifetime's worth of strange, actually -- since I was diagnosed with breast cancer on July 18, 2013. Fortunately, there was only one day when I woke with a trash can on my head.
As a 42-year-old woman living a healthy lifestyle with no family history of breast cancer, my diagnosis should have knocked me to the floor.
It did not. That came a few months later. See the previous Kelley vs. trash can/wall drama.
I am a positive person living with a not-so-positive diagnosis. I have done my best to laugh and learn since being told I have invasive ductal carcinoma and advanced ductal carcinoma in-situ, also called DCIS, in my right breast. According to the American Cancer Society, about 60,000 cases of DCIS are diagnosed in the United States each year, accounting for about one of every five new breast cancer cases.
It's not a funny disease. Still, I have laughed a lot through its absurdities and indelicacies.
I laughed about being splayed naked across a mammogram machine with technicians inserting wires into my breasts, then asking, "Are you OK?"
My internal response: "Are you kidding? I look like a heavy metal FemBot."

On Sept. 5, King underwent a bilateral breast-conserving surgery, also called lumpectomy.

I laughed at posing for "before" surgery photos. Standing at attention without a shirt or bra, jeans hiked low to reveal my muffin top, I turned to have one breast photographed and then the other. The plastic surgeon then told me to face him and relax my belly.

My internal response: "I've been holding this in for 20 years. If I let go now, lives will be lost."
Away from my internal laugh track, I've learned more than I ever imagined about living with cancer today. Before my diagnosis, the most I knew about cancer I learned from watching chemistry-teacher-turned-drug-kingpin Walter White on TV.
The medicine now available to treat people is impressive and ever-advancing. From wire-localization breast-conserving surgery to reconstruction options after mastectomy, I have been awed by skilled physicians and the human body. It really is a work of art.
My work of art will be recast when I undergo a 12-hour contralateral prophylactic mastectomy and abdominal flap reconstruction to rebuild my breasts in October. My first surgery revealed the cancer in my treacherous right breast is more advanced than initially thought. Both breasts will pay the price, though, because I want to look to the future without all-consuming concern for another breast cancer diagnosis.
After surgery and recovery, I will take in a crazy cocktail of follow-up treatments, including cytotoxic chemotherapy and hormone-blocking medicines for up to five years. I am fortunate to have insurance that covers my treatments. Because I am young, the doctors are being aggressive and lighting me up like the Bikini Atoll.
Also, because I am young, I will be tested for the BRCA gene mutation. Angelina Jolie made this a household buzzword earlier this year. Under the Affordable Care Act, the testing is preventive care. It requires no out-of-pocket cost for eligible patients, according to Myriad Genetics, a Utah-based firm that analyzes the tests. If the mutation exists for me, I will have my ovaries removed.

A lifelong blonde, King dyed her hair before chemotherapy.

At the start of 2013, I was an unemployed journalist who hated doing housework. Today, I can add having breast cancer to my resume. Who doesn't want to poke that hot mess with a stick?

I also was a lifelong blonde. With cancer and certain hair loss on the horizon, I've gone to the dark side: brunette.
With the anger, exhaustion and change breast cancer has brought, it also has provided me a life lesson about the importance of humor, humility and hope.
I believe a dose of each will make me stronger … a true survivor.
Kelley King is a former journalist. She lives in Superior, Colo., with her husband, Kevin, and two dogs. She has a blog about her life with breast cancer at yourbolderswedish.tumblr.com.