By Shanise Pearce
There are some battles that come without warning. You don’t hear them. You don’t feel them right away. But they’re raging beneath the surface, shifting life as we know it. Brain cancer is one of those silent storms.
As a Triple Negative Breast Cancer (TNBC) survivor, I’ve had to sit in rooms where the words “early detection” carried both hope and urgency. I’ve also been in spaces where people, just like me, beat breast cancer, only to later discover the fight had moved to their brain. And for many, that second battle is the one they never saw coming.
What most people don’t realize is that breast cancer doesn’t always stay in the breast. For some, it metastasizes, or spreads, to other parts of the body. The brain, unfortunately, becomes one of those targets, especially for individuals with aggressive subtypes like Triple Negative and HER2-positive breast cancer.
According to research published in Cancer Reports, approximately 25% to 50% of patients with HER2-positive metastatic breast cancer will develop brain metastases during the course of their disease (https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/full/10.1002/cnr2.1274). Additional studies indicate that 25% to 46% of patients with metastatic Triple Negative Breast Cancer will also experience brain involvement, making it one of the most common subtypes to metastasize to the brain (https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC8760391/). These numbers are more than statistics. They represent real lives—women, men, and families—interrupted by a disease that is not being talked about enough.
It’s important to remember that men get breast cancer too. Although less common, their experiences with diagnosis, treatment, and potential brain metastasis are just as valid and often even more isolated due to stigma and lack of awareness. Whether male or female, when breast cancer spreads to the brain, it transforms the fight completely.
Brain cancer symptoms are often subtle. Headaches, mood swings, memory loss, blurred vision, or even seizures. For many patients, especially in underserved communities, these signs are misdiagnosed or ignored. The system tells them to wait. To “monitor it.” But when it comes to cancer, waiting can be deadly.
Stories like these are far too common, especially among those with advanced breast cancer. A person may complete treatment and ring the chemo bell with tears in their eyes, believing the hardest part is over. Then, months later, they begin forgetting things, losing balance, or struggling with speech. Loved ones notice a shift in personality. The laughter once shared is replaced by confusion and quiet. Eventually, they learn the cancer has metastasized to the brain.
While this isn’t my personal experience, I’ve heard heartbreaking stories like this during my advocacy work. These individuals—and their families—deserve to be seen, heard, and remembered. Their stories fuel my passion for early detection, equitable care, and ongoing support for those living with metastatic breast cancer.
We often talk about survivorship in terms of breast cancer, but what does that really mean if we’re not also educating on recurrence and metastasis? What good is a fight if we stop swinging before the final bell?
For Black patients in particular, this conversation is even more urgent. Black women have a 41% higher death rate from breast cancer compared to white women (https://www.cdc.gov/cancer/research/disparities-in-breast-cancer-deaths.html). And Black men are more likely to be diagnosed at a distant stage of breast cancer than white men, with 12.2% of cases detected late compared to 8.1% in white males (https://www.cdc.gov/mmwr/volumes/69/wr/mm6941a2.htm). These disparities, coupled with delays in neurological imaging and limited access to high-quality care, create a perfect storm that is costing lives.
And let’s not forget the caregivers. When brain cancer enters the picture, the entire family dynamic changes. Loved ones become nurses, interpreters, memory-keepers. They’re not just witnessing the physical toll. They’re mourning changes in personality, speech, and identity. The grief starts long before a goodbye.
So where do we go from here?
We start by talking about it. By educating ourselves and each other. By advocating for full-body scans when something feels off. By demanding equitable access to advanced imaging and clinical trials. By standing up for those whose voices have been silenced by a system that forgot them.
As the founder of The Advocate’s Table, I believe in community-rooted change. This is about building a table where everyone has a seat, every voice is heard, and no one faces cancer alone, especially when it spreads to places we’re not prepared for.
Brain cancer and breast cancer aren’t separate conversations. They are threads of the same story. The more we stitch those stories together, the stronger the fabric becomes for those who come after us.
Let’s not wait for brain cancer to hit home before we pay attention. Let’s bring it to the table now with love, urgency, and purpose.
“Every scar I carry is a story I’ve survived, and now I use those stories to light the path for someone else’s tomorrow.” ~ Shanise Pearce
Sources:
- Cancer Reports (Wiley) on HER2-positive brain metastases: https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/full/10.1002/cnr2.1274
- National Institutes of Health on TNBC brain metastases: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC8760391/
- CDC: Disparities in Breast Cancer Deaths – https://www.cdc.gov/cancer/research/disparities-in-breast-cancer-deaths.html
- CDC: Breast Cancer in Men – https://www.cdc.gov/mmwr/volumes/69/wr/mm6941a2.htm
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