Help Brittany Fight Breast Cancer

Hi friends, family, and kind-hearted strangers—

My name is Brittany Rocheford, but some of you may know me as Brittany Wunderlin. I’m not sure how to begin a page like this, other than to say: this isn’t a story I ever imagined myself writing, but I’m deeply grateful you’re here, reading, and walking alongside me. Thank you, truly.

In January 2025, at age 31, I was diagnosed with Stage 3b Invasive Lobular Carcinoma, a type of breast cancer that’s elusive, sneaky, and stubborn. It’s hormone-receptor positive, which means it feeds off estrogen and progesterone. It’s HER2 negative, which means we need lots of angles of attack, given it’s likely not going to respond to any one thing exclusively. It’s Grade 1, but before discovery it had already spread to at least 3-5 lymph nodes and measured 9.5 cm (softball-sized). Hence the Stage 3b label.

It was a gut punch—and then a sprint. In the first few weeks, I met with three care teams, completed an egg retrieval for fertility preservation (thankfully successful!), and chose to move forward with M Health, my alma mater’s care system. I’m incredibly confident in my oncologist and the aggressive, proactive treatment plan we’ve built together.

My Treatment Plan

Right now, I’m six weeks into chemo and just got an update April 7th from my care team after completing my 6-week MRI: My tumor has shown a 2 cm reduction in size and my lymph nodes a small percentage (1-2%) reduction in size, which is encouraging given we went into this not knowing if my malignancy would be receptive to chemo at all. This is a big win (of which there are very few in the cancer journey), realistically we are looking to increase surgical margins and gain the upper hand for my surgical team while in there and I’m so happy my blood, sweat, and tears are paying off, even in small, centimeter sized ways. 6 more weeks, phew.

It’s hard to put this journey into words. Cancer is messy, expensive, and indifferent to who you are—but it has also revealed so much good in the world. I’ve felt more love, compassion, and humanity in these last few weeks than I ever thought possible.

Financial Reality

In the first 10 weeks alone, my medical bills (before surgery or radiation have even started) have already topped $75,000, with around $16,000 out-of-pocket costs so far. Even with insurance, expenses stack up quickly: imaging, biopsies, consultations, fertility preservation (which insurance didn’t touch), labs, medications, and infusions. Not to mention the daily life conveniences like meal deliveries when feeling too tired for dinner plans, the massages for pain management, the Amazon cart for new-to-me quality of life items, like heating pads and bath salts. It really adds up so quickly.

We expect the total out-of-pocket cost for this year alone to easily exceed $25,000+, not including any long-term endocrine therapy, travel, or recovery-related needs. I’m grateful to still be working as I’m able to hopefully take as little unpaid leave as possible for the many appointments, surgeries and treatments. My work has been very supportive and I know that is not everyone’s reality. If you are here reading from One10, thank you for any of the support you’ve offered. From covering meetings to holding space for me in my virtual feelings in the early days of this diagnosis (and prior). I treasure each of you.

I’m sharing this here not to over-share or scare, but to be honest–and because so many people have asked how to help. If you’re in a position to contribute, no matter how small, I would be beyond grateful. If you’re not, your support, prayers, and shares mean just as much to me. Truly. Asking for help is my least favorite chore but as I’ve learned, you all want to help.

To those who have already shown up for us: THANK YOU. It’s not a sufficient phrase but it’s meant the actual world to me.

To my best friends dropping off meals, sending gifts, and checking in constantly, to my family who has road-tripped just to sit beside me during a chemo nap, to the people who have filled our fridge, mailed notes, offered prayers, paid for cleaners, taken Liam for the day and quite literally filled our cups to the brim—your love has carried us. I feel it every day.

I know others are walking through similar (or even harder) roads - and I’m rooting for all of us. As one of my favorites SharonSaysSo says, “Joy is an act of resistance.” She’s right. I hope to find it, spread it, and hold onto it in the coming days ahead. This will be a long road, of which I’m never sure if I’m in the sprinting or the marathoning, but I’m hopeful there’s a finish line.

Thank you, thank you, thank you. For reading, for caring, and for being part of my village.

If you feel compelled to share, I’m grateful for that support, too.

With love,

Brittany Rocheford

(Wunderlin, always)

I would be remiss to not mention my husband Jake, our 3-year-old Liam, and our dog Hank. They are my everyday 24/7-365 cheerleaders and constants in this battle. I’m so entirely grateful for them, and I know they would be grateful to you for being here, too.

((if you prefer a direct donation to avoid fees you can find me on V E N M O at @Brittany-Wunderlin))