Fast forward a year: I turned 41 and had yet to have a mammogram. (Editor's note: American Cancer Society says women have the option to begin breast cancer screening at age 40.) So, on the morning of my ninth wedding anniversary, I finally walked in; that night I put on a cute dress, lipstick, and heels and went out to dinner with my husband. In a few days I will be asked to come in for an ultrasound and then a biopsy.
I tried not to worry, but I knew the biopsy results would come back while my family and I were on a trip to New York, my favorite city in the world. I remember going to breakfast with my husband, then walking around and taking a bunch of photos. “Maybe these are the last photos in which I don’t have cancer,” I thought.
Later that day, my OB/GYN called: I had cancer in my right breast and it had spread to my right lymph node. He gave me the name of a surgeon at UCLA and advised me to leave New York immediately and return home to Los Angeles.
When we were at the airport on the way home, I told my husband that our children are my legacy and he should take good care of them and teach them to remember me. I thought I would die that day.
My husband was a rock. I never saw him break down—until he had to call his parents and say out loud, “Eva has breast cancer.” It took him a long time to say those words without crying.
Then I knew I wanted to document my experience. I wanted to make sure my children recognized me. I wanted a visual reminder of what I was going through. I didn't want to forget. I didn't want to be one of those people who survive breast cancer and then forget the hard times, so I decided to start filming every step of my journey for a documentary.
I was recovering from my first surgery when the oncologist called me. The cancer had metastasized up and down my spine and into my liver. It was stage IV breast cancer, also known as metastatic breast cancer, which is considered incurable. I remember lying in bed staring at the ceiling while my husband started calling our friends and family. I didn't just have cancer; I had terminal cancer.
