A private radiologist told Mayer that more images would be needed. At 40, she realized she could have cancer.
Turn on the camera again.
Last May's Breast Cancer Awareness project last October turned out to be a far more sobering call to action than he had anticipated. Her followers watched as her extra image revealed signs of cancer and while Meyer – still in journalist mode – made notes and made sure she got her questions. They listened to Meyer's report on the results of the biopsy, confirming her fears.
This week, KFOR viewers in Oklahoma, where Meyer anchors a morning show, also heard her bring a happy ending. A year after the devastating diagnosis that led to surgery, Mayer's second mammogram showed she was cancer-free.
It was the finale of an intense personal journey, Meyer says she was glad to share, after all. She says knowing the thousands of people who watched her helped her "stick together" ̵
1; and that the stories being poured out by other women surrounded her with empathy.
And she did what she set out to announce that even women far younger than the typical breast cancer victim should receive regular mammograms.
"If I may have opened a few eyes … then the mission is complete," she told The Washington Post.
Meyer knows how easy it is to feel invincible. A year ago, she said she believed that without a family history of breast cancer and no major risk factors, her Facebook followers were on unhindered medical examination.
She arrived with a little nerve.
"It's kind of an exciting day for me," she said at the beginning of her first stream, smiling as she shot herself in the mirror. "I hope everything goes well."
Her optimism was maintained even after talking outside the camera with the radiologist, Mayer said. She knew many women needed to get follow-up pictures. It could be nothing. "I put my big girl in the face," she told The Post.
Later that day, she reported the news to her family, wept and waited for a biopsy.
Facebook's teaser was tearful: she had non-invasive ductal breast cancer, which had a high survival rate, but probably would.
"I interviewed surgeon after surgeon and they all said the same thing," she wrote later. .
Staff at the Stevenson Cancer Center remember the shock, just like Meyer on the turn who had taken the public awareness cascade. 19659002] "My heart just sank because I never expected in a million years that it would ever be a quick and easy story for your first mammogram ", Claire Thurmel, marketers Govi coordinator of the center, says in a segment of KFOR from this week.
Last December, surgeons removed Mayer's right breast; they were able to save the nipple. She also told her followers, even posting a photo of the grain on Instagram. She said she wanted to have more images when deciding on her operation.
Then last month she went in for a second mammogram, so nervous that this time she could barely follow the instructions of the staff not to breathe as they received their images. Her heart pounded as they examined her left breast, which she joked she was now referring to as "like a diamond." She thought she might faint.
But he says there is no cancer. She was eager to share.