Meet Christina Jami Alvarado: ER/PR-positive, HER2-negative de novo Stage IV Breast Cancer Survivor

Christina Jami Alvarado is a ER/PR+ HER2- de novo Stage IV metastatic breast cancer patient, diagnosed in December 2023, just days before my 40th birthday. Former media producer and production manager, now disabled and dismantled, I’ve found purpose in connecting with other women in the cancer community, sharing my story, and advocating for meaningful change for those living with MBC.

How did your Cancer Journey Begin? 

For two years, I knew something was wrong, and doctors kept telling me it was nothing. At 38, I was told I was just getting "old." Then I was told I was depressed and convinced to take antidepressants for a year and a half, with no improvement. Then a massive lump appeared in my left breast. I was diagnosed with de novo stage 4 metastatic breast cancer in December 2023, just a few days before my 40th birthday.

What did your treatment journey look like?

Living with stage 4 means treatment never ends. I've been a full-time patient for nearly three years now. The induced menopause was absolutely brutal. For the first two years, my body went through a crazy transformation. I've had ablations and radiation, along with surgery. My mind, body, and soul were in so much pain. But because I didn't "LOOK" sick, because I still have my breasts and hair, nobody believed how much I was actually hurting. I just finished more radiation to my spine. I'm still receiving Lupron injections, and I’ve been on oral chemo, Xeloda, since July with close monitoring. It's the closest to any kind of normalcy I've felt since this journey began. But my oncologist is ready to pull the trigger on my next line of treatment, which will be ENHERTU. I pray I can still get more time out of my current line of treatment.

Is there anything you want to mention regarding mental health and cancer and how you dealt with that?

Not being believed when you're in pain or suffering is one of the worst betrayals. Cancer didn't just change my body and my life, it rattled my entire network. I lost my 6 figure career, my Brooklyn home of 15 years, my savings… my independence. Many people, friends and family, disappeared after the first few months. Many people think this is some sort of flu that you'll eventually get over, and then you'll go back to normal. There is no going BACK to NORMAL. Cancer isn't a new chapter. It's a new book. And most people either aren't interested or simply can't handle the harsh reality of what my life is now. So everyone gets to move on with their lives while I'm in real-time purgatory, living life in 6-8 week intervals to see if my treatment is working or not.

The one thing that changed for me this year is that I leaned into the cancer community. In doing so, I found understanding. I found empathy. I found love and support. Finding the RIGHT oncologist AND joining different platforms with other women going through the same hardships was a huge game changer for my mental health. I'm still in active treatment, and I'm scared, but I'm stronger today because of programs like SHARE, the Breasties, METAvivor, and more. I marched the Hill this past Oct and advocated for change for the first time in my life. I don’t think I’m felt really proud of anything since I started this cancer journey 3 years go. 

How did having cancer shift your relationships with friends and family?

Cancer changed how I see people, loyalty, and what it really means to show up for someone. People I thought would be there forever disappeared. And people I thought were gone forever unexpectedly came back into my life.

Years ago, a therapist told me there might come a day when I would simply stop chasing, and that if I did, I might be surprised by what it revealed. Eventually, cancer made me do exactly that. And it was devastating and enlightening. 

Cancer has made me much more protective of my time, energy, and emotional well-being. I no longer feel obligated to maintain relationships simply because of history or shared DNA. I haven't become less compassionate. If anything, I value meaningful connection more. Relationships aren't defined by what people say when things are good. They're revealed by how people show up when things aren't.

And I'm not alone in this. So many women living with metastatic breast cancer are navigating much more than the physical realities of their disease. They're losing support systems and realizing the people they thought would be there simply aren't. Some don't have family support at all. Some are surrounded by people and still feel completely alone. Facing a terminal diagnosis without a healthy support system is a very different reality, and it deserves more attention. For many of us, the support and belonging we need come from people who weren't part of our lives before cancer.

Any advice or tips do you have for others facing similar circumstances?

This is much easier said than done, but my advice is to find your community sooner rather than later. Lean into programs and organizations like SHARE, METAvivor, Breasties, Reclaim October, and Cancer Culture to name a few. The sooner you begin to radically accept that something in your life has shifted and changed permanently, the sooner you may find relief, understanding, and solace in connecting with other women who are actually living it. There is something incredibly comforting about being surrounded by women who just get it without having to explain yourself over and over again.