Meet Kim Vandermeer: Korean-American Model & Stage II Breast Cancer Survivor

Meet Kim Vandermeer, a Korean-American model and Stage II breast cancer survivor. Learn her story and how she continues to advocate for others in the breast cancer community. 

When were you diagnosed with cancer, and what has been your cancer journey so far? 

I was diagnosed in June 2023, completely unexpectedly. I turned 41 in 2023, but my cancer journey truly began when I was 40. As someone who always followed the rules, I definitely went to all of my annual checkups. At my annual physical in 2022, my primary care physician told me, “Now that you’re 40, why don’t you do your mammogram? They just adjusted the recommended age from 50 to 40. Here’s a write-up to go have that done.” 

Shortly after that, I went on my 40th birthday trip. I never got around to scheduling that mammogram. The following year, my physician asked me if I had my mammogram yet, and I promised to schedule it as soon as I got home. I went, had my mammogram, and didn’t think about it anymore. 

For 40 years, I never had any health problems. I didn’t have a family history of cancer, and I never thought my mammogram would come back with anything irregular. 

The mammogram ended up coming back irregular, which caused me to need a diagnostic mammogram. That mammogram led to me needing a biopsy. This was all happening over the course of a week, and I didn’t have time to process anything. A few days after my biopsy, I was diagnosed with cancer. 

This cancer diagnosis started the whirlwind of “Let’s get the next thing done, the next procedure, the next treatment in order to deal with this.” I was diagnosed with Stage II hormone-positive, HER2-negative breast cancer. At first, my doctor told me, “We caught it relatively early enough. You should only need a lumpectomy and maybe radiation.” A few weeks later, I took a MammaPrint test. This test analyzes your genes to see what your rate of recurrence would be, and mine told me that I was at high risk for recurrence. Because of the results of that test, I had to go through chemotherapy. 

Being told I had to go through chemotherapy was very hard. I was only expecting a minor surgery, and now I had to grasp that I would lose my hair and go through this harsh treatment. So many things would happen to my body and hit me really hard. Throughout this journey, all I could do was take one step at a time. I didn’t have time to process anything and just wanted to get better as quickly as possible. 

First, I completed a lumpectomy, but they couldn’t clear the margins. I had to go back for surgery a few weeks later for extended margins, and they still found cancer cells around those. They decided to hold off on any more surgeries and get me into chemotherapy first.

I completed three months of chemo at the end of 2023, and then in December, I had a double mastectomy. I had the highest grade tumor and a high risk of recurrence, so I wanted to be as safe as possible. Even after making the decision to do a double mastectomy, my breast cancer surgeon said I could still solely do radiation since my risk would be the same statistically. Yet, I still chose to go with my gut and get that double mastectomy. I’m young enough that if this were to come back in my future, I’d rather go through this major surgery now than at an older age.

Medical advancements for breast cancer are so great. I was able to have DIEP flap reconstruction using my own fat. I also went for Resensation, which is nerve grafting to allow feeling to return to the breasts post-surgery. I’m so grateful for the ability to have these surgeries, thanks to research and donations towards the companies doing this important research. 

The recovery for DIEP flap reconstruction is a lot more intense than they make it out to be. I was in recovery for 3 months and couldn’t stand up straight. In January 2024, I was declared in remission! My doctor says, “Don’t say cancer-free,” but I like to say that I’m cancer-free! 

For me, it feels like my cancer journey was from June 2023 until January 2024. This was the hardest thing I’ve physically had to go through in my whole life. During chemo, I was able to do cold capping, which I am so appreciative of. Yet, things were still extremely hard physically. 

This past year has been the hardest emotionally, as I go through remission. When I look back at my journey, the treatments and surgeries were obviously the most difficult physically, while life after being declared in remission was the hardest to process emotionally. During active treatment, you’re just running from one thing to the next. You’re just thinking about how to make it to the next day, week, and month because you don’t have time to process your emotions. Then, when you’re in remission, there are suddenly no appointments. I’m on hormone therapy, ovarian suppression shots, daily hormone pills, but really nothing else. It was a drastic change, and I had to take a lot of time to recover and process everything emotionally. 

The past year was a highly emotional time, as everything hit me all at once. I’m usually a very level-headed person who is often content and happy. Yet this past year, I’ve never cried so much in my whole life. I hardly cried during active treatment, as my husband was a lot more emotional than I was. But when I processed everything in 2024, that’s when the tears came. 

I think that doctors and nurses try to only give you the information that you need to know for the next step. They also try to spin things in a very positive light, due to all the fear around cancer. But in my case, when your body doesn’t react in the way the doctor planned, I had to go through chemo when I wasn't prepared for it. This was devastating for me as I had my mind set on not having to go through that. Realizing that I had to take that harsh of a drug was such a hard time period for me. 

I also had to go through a double mastectomy, even though I was told I would only have to do a lumpectomy and radiation in the beginning. These unexpected, harsh treatments really scared me. If I knew beforehand that there was even a possibility of my having to have these treatments, I would have been more prepared. 

What are some emotional struggles you’ve experienced on your cancer journey? What advice do you have for others recently entering the world of cancer? 

The biggest lesson I learned was: It’s OK to feel what you’re feeling. Everyone reacts to bad news differently, and there’s no wrong way to react to cancer. My husband and I reacted to my diagnosis completely differently. He was so emotional and scared. “My wife is dying, and I’m going to lose her.” I couldn’t even process the fact that I had cancer. I just needed to do whatever it took to get better, and I couldn’t feel any emotions about my diagnosis at the time. 

When I was finally in remission, I started going to the free oncology therapy sessions that my cancer center offered. Every time I would share with her what I was struggling with, she would always say, “That’s OK.” She taught me the biggest lesson: that it’s OK to feel what I’m feeling rather than judging myself for my emotions. I needed to stop judging myself so harshly. When I was going through active treatment, I felt like I had to be strong for other people. My peers reacted the way the average person would respond to the news that a loved one has cancer: with sadness and fear. I felt like I had to be the strong one and get through treatment. 

After remission, I struggled with being “cancer-free.” I didn’t feel joyful or like celebrating. Even as I’ve reached a year of being cancer-free, I still struggle with feeling gratitude. Two things can be true at the same time: I’m still grieving, and this year has been a grieving process where I’m struggling between “getting over” the grief and trying to feel grateful that I’m cancer-free. When I look back at photos of my time in active treatment, I realize that I went through so much. I’m still processing everything my body went through last year, and I can’t believe that I did all of that. 

All the things I’ve lost caused so many conflicting emotions. I’m still angry and sad at what cancer took from me, while I’m trying to also feel joy for it being over. Sometimes I feel myself saying, “You shouldn’t be feeling angry,” and I try to stop and remind myself that it’s OK to feel and process all my emotions. At the end of the day,  I just needed to take my time processing my emotions.

As a model, how did having cancer affect your career? What fears and stigmas did you have to overcome?

It was so hard to process that cancer and my treatments would affect my looks. I hate saying this because I don’t like feeling this way, but it was my truth. The first thing I thought about when I found out that I had cancer was, “Am I going to have to go through chemotherapy? I do not want to lose my hair.” My favorite physical feature about myself was definitely my hair. I had long hair down to my butt, which I was so proud of, and the hardest thing I faced was that cancer would affect this feature. 

When my original treatment plan changed, and I ended up having to go through chemo, I had to face the fact that my hair would be drastically affected. I found out that my cancer center provided Paxman cold capping, which I was really thankful for. Yet, I also knew that the chemo drug I was taking was TC, Taxotere, and Cytozan. Cytoxan is one of the harsher chemotherapy drugs and often causes complete hair loss. With cold capping, I had a 50% chance of keeping some hair, and I was super lucky to actually keep 40% of my hair through the process.

To improve my chances of keeping as much hair as possible, I cut it to chin length. Doing so would keep my hair lighter and less likely to break. I did so much research before starting this process, and my hair did thin out, but cold capping helped drastically. For some, TC chemo causes permanent hair loss. I think I avoided any permanent damage with cold capping, and my hair has also grown back fairly quickly. 

Being able to keep most of my hair helped me feel more like myself during treatment. I didn’t have to shave my head, and I bought a hair topper, which was quite expensive. I used it a handful of times because my hair almost thinned out in the back of my head. But similarly to other cancer survivors, that hair topper was more of a security blanket for me. It brought me peace to know that I would have the option of a hair topper if I needed it. 

When I reached remission this year, I did anything and everything I could to help me feel more like myself. It was traumatic to look in the mirror and not fully recognize myself anymore. I still don’t feel 100% myself yet, mainly because the chemo drugs and steroids I had to take caused me to gain over 25 pounds. Another stereotype of cancer is that you lose weight during treatment, but that rarely happens. Most of my friends in the cancer world also report gaining weight because of steroids. Other side effects I encountered included losing my eyelashes 3 times, even months after chemo. I also lost my eyebrows during chemo.

I’m thankful that I've had opportunities to return to the runway and photoshoots after chemotherapy. That felt so good and allowed me to have high moments during the lows of the past year. It helped me to balance out the good and the bad through it all. 

How did your Korean American identity impact your cancer journey?

Korean Americans are often looked at as “model minorities”. In our households, illnesses are rarely discussed, and it's not something you share publicly at all. When I was diagnosed, I didn’t know anyone else who had gone through cancer. I found out later that some of my very distant relatives had also gone through cancer treatment 20-30 years ago. In our culture, we don’t share our personal health information with others, so not knowing anyone else who had cancer was a lonely experience. 

The first experience I had that allowed me to meet other cancer patients & survivors in my community was at the Young Survival Coalition Summit I attended this year. I saw a Facebook ad about it and had finally recovered from my DIEP flap surgery, so I decided to go. I really wanted to be with other survivors and learn from their experiences. The conference created groups where you could meet with people of your ethnicity, and there was an Asian American group. There were fewer than a dozen of us there, but it was still really nice to connect with them. 

We all had very similar experiences in terms of being a model minority. We’re not expected to give our opinions or have our voices heard, so we had to advocate for ourselves. When people look at us, they expect us to be meek and quiet and do what we are told. Many members of our small group mentioned having to go get second and third opinions because their doctors would not listen to them. We also had the shared experience of not knowing anyone else in our cultural circles who had cancer. 

When I started sharing my experience on social media, my mom couldn’t understand why I would share my health information on Facebook. “Why are you posting about this?!” I tried to explain to her that it helped me to see others online sharing their cancer experiences, and I knew that I would help someone by sharing my experience. Unfortunately, she still couldn't comprehend why I would share this publicly. 

In the Korean American community, cancer is not talked about enough. According to the American Cancer Society, Korean American women are facing the highest increase in breast cancer rates. It’s very important for people to talk about cancer so we can help others who are facing these scary diagnoses.

How did having cancer shift or affect your relationships with friends, family, and other loved ones?

Having cancer helped me be a better friend to others. I didn’t know how to support peers going through traumatic events before I had cancer myself. I would say that I was a good friend before, but now my perspective has completely changed. Now, I know what it looks like to show up and support someone emotionally. 

One example is telling people, “Let me know how I can help you.” That puts the onus on the person who is sick or hurting to find out what they need help with. When people would tell me that, I wouldn’t know what to say. I ended up saying that I didn’t need anything, but that really wasn’t the case. In reality, what I needed was an occasional text, “Hey, I’m thinking of you,” or “Here’s 20 bucks for your lunch today.” Now I know how to be proactive and reach out to others going through a difficult time.

Some family & friends know how to approach a situation when someone is dealing with a sudden diagnosis of an illness. Though I know there are people who might not know how to approach the situation because they don’t know how to deal with it. To the cancer patient, it feels like you’re being ghosted. My husband and I talked a lot about this. It can be very hurtful for the person going through the traumatic event to feel like they’re alone. Though we understand that the person doesn’t know what to do, it still doesn’t make you feel any better in the moment. 

Communicating and saying “Hi, I’m thinking of you” means so much. It truly means the world to someone going through a difficult time.

Do you have a message for others recently diagnosed with cancer?

You are not alone. That would have been nice for someone to share with me when I was in active treatment, especially at the beginning. Although my husband loves me and takes care of me, I often felt alone and isolated. I was the one going through active treatment, and I didn’t know anyone else going through the same thing. That was such a lonely and isolating experience. As much as my friends and family wanted to support me, I was the one going through it. In Asian culture, there is a bit of a “suffer alone” mentality. I want to break that. There are so many other people going through the same thing as you. Reach out to others and find friends in the cancer community. It’s so helpful to know that you’re not alone.

Photo courtesy of author.