April Samuels knew she'd go flat before she ever had cancer
A professional drummer, a lifetime of six-month screenings, a triple-negative diagnosis, and setting her own tempo
Years before her diagnosis, back when she was getting cysts checked every six months, April Samuels had already made the call. If this ever turns into something, both breasts come off, and I’m not looking back.
So when the phone rang at 9 a.m. on an October morning and the word was cancer—triple negative, the aggressive one—she didn’t spend two weeks agonizing. She spent two weeks scheduling.
Double mastectomy at 41, done. Flat.
April’s not tougher than everyone else, although she’s a professional drummer who plays 120 gigs a year, so she’s not exactly delicate; rather, she never stopped moving. We’re very different and yet we recognized each other.
Watch the tempo.
Diagnosed one week.
Selling t-shirts out of her car the next, the ones that said Breast Cancer Can Stick It.
A couple of years later, forming a real nonprofit.
A few years after that, creating an annual event where strangers pay a few dollars to get on stage and jam next to professional drummers.
When chemo ended, she went and spent money she probably shouldn’t have to jam with Sammy Hagar, because she’d just “blown a fortune on something I didn’t want and figured I’d spend a little on something I did”.
Most of us freeze when we’re scared. April set the beat.
There’s a nickname she gave her prosthetics that made me laugh out loud, and a piece of screening advice I wish someone had handed me at 30. Near the end, she called her cancer an odd blessing, and I knew exactly what she meant, because my own cancer year turned into one of the happiest of my life.
New episode is live. Come meet April.
The Drummer Who Changed The Beat of TNBC is available for subscribers on Thursday, July 30.
Support April’s Non-Profit - BreastCancerCanStickIt
Topics Discussed
Diagnosed at 41, flat by choice
The screening most dense-breasted women never get
Selling “Breast Cancer Can Stick It” from her trunk
Drumathon: strangers on stage with rock stars
Why survivors confide in each other, not family
Foobies, chicken cutlets, and cancer humor
Triple negative: aggressive, but chemo-responsive
The odd blessing of a cancer year