Hello, my name is Amy.

A few weeks back I heard the words no one prepares you for: “You have breast cancer.”

What began as a routine check turned into a Stage 1 diagnosis in my right breast — and precancerous findings in my left. After multiple scans and biopsies, my doctors told me the only safe path forward is a bilateral mastectomy, scheduled for December 8th of this year 2025.

I wish I could say I had time to process it all. But I didn’t — because the next thing I was handed was the cost.

And that part broke me.

The Financial Reality That Shook Me

As an independent contractor (1099), I don’t have employer insurance. The plans available to me come with large deductibles and out-of-pocket costs.

So when the hospital delivered the estimate… I froze.

Here are numbers:

Diagnostics (MRI, biopsy, mammogram, ultrasound, bloodwork): $26,678

Bilateral mastectomy surgery: $48,795

Required upfront hospital payment after “discount”: $93,272

Yes — the hospital requires payment upfront before they will proceed.

I sat with that email and just cried.

I have no savings that come close to this.

There is no payment plan.

There is no backup option.

There is only time — and not enough of it.

I am absolutely terrified that I will not be able to get the surgery I need unless I ask for help.

Who I Am Outside This Diagnosis

For years, I have dedicated myself to teaching yoga, Qigong, and meditation — helping people breathe deeper, move easier, and find peace in their own bodies.

I’ve always believed in showing up for community — for healing, for grounding, for connection.

But today, for the first time, I am the one who needs the community to hold me.

This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to ask for.

Why I’m Asking for Support

Your support will help me:

Pay for the surgery on December 8th

Cover the hospital’s required upfront amount

Access whatever treatment is needed afterward (radiation, chemo, or hormone therapy)

Get through recovery when I cannot work or teach

I am doing everything I can to stay strong, hopeful, and grounded — but the truth is, I can’t do this alone. Not financially. Not emotionally.

If you are able to donate, share, or hold space for me during this time, it would mean the world.

Thank you for reading my story, for caring, and for helping me take the next step toward healing.

With love and deep gratitude,

Amy Nguyen Young