Amy Robach Living with Purpose Cover Story Amy Robach, Breast Cancer, Good Morning America

After receiving a diagnosis of stage 2 invasive breast cancer in 2013 following an on-air mammogram, the GMA3: What You Need to Know host and journalist has found power in telling her own story — and has inspired others to do the same.

BY KATHERINE SPELLER

n 2019, Amy Robach was prepping for an interview with the survivors of the “Miracle on the Hudson” to commemorate the 10-year anniversary of the crash. In the quiet moments before cameras started to roll, mid-small-talk, the GMA3: What You Need to Know co-anchor, ABC News Anchor, and 20/20 co-anchor and her interview subjects realized something odd: Three people — herself included — of the four in the room had climbed Mount Kilimanjaro in the last few years. That’s not a peak that a lot of people reach. And really, what are the odds of three people in one room unknowingly making the same once-in-a-lifetime ascent? Then it sunk in. Oh. “At first you think, ‘wow, that's random, that's kind of funny,’” Robach, 49, tells SheKnows over the phone. “And then we all kind of realized: Each one of us thought we were going to die.” Everyone has a plane crash moment, she says — a new point zero that reframes all the coulds, woulds, and shoulds of your life; one that drives you to reconsider exactly how you want your life story to play out, to reevaluate the stories you tell about yourself, and to finally commit to climbing the mountains you never thought you’d climb. Robach’s came in October of 2013, after she stepped into a mobile mammogram van for a Breast Cancer Awareness Month feature on GMA and received a diagnosis of stage 2, HER-positive breast cancer that had already spread to her lymph nodes. Within months, she would undergo a double mastectomy (finding another undetected tumor in the process), endure eight rounds of chemotherapy, and have breast reconstruction surgery. And in the nearly nine years since that on-air mammogram, she’s continued to report on breast cancer and share her own story. Point Zero Robach was hesitant at the idea of getting a mammogram at all — let alone doing it on live TV. Breast cancer wasn’t on her radar at the time. “I didn’t think I needed it,” she admits. But a conversation with her GMA colleague (and fellow-breast cancer survivor) Robin Roberts helped her make the decision to follow through. “When Amy shared her concerns about getting a mammogram live on GMA, I understood why,” Roberts told SheKnows via email. “She didn’t want it to be seen as a ploy for ratings. Amy genuinely wanted to help educate viewers. I told her if getting in the mammo-van led to one life being saved that’s all that would matter. Little did we know of course that the life saved would be hers.” Those words were the exact ones Robach needed to hear at that moment. And, in fact, they echoed back to her first broadcast story — the one that helped cement her own personal mission and philosophy as a journalist. She was covering the story of a drug overdose for her campus news station during her senior year at the University of Georgia in the 90s and had the humbling experience of approaching the father of the student who had died.

“Sir, Amy Robach, University News,” she said. “I want to tell your daughter’s story to any student out there who’s considering doing drugs…Would you tell me about your daughter? Because if we can prevent one person from doing drugs tonight, at least something will have come out of this unbelievable tragedy.” The execution is kind of a masterclass of how to approach such a sensitive, heart-wrenching story. You do it, Robach says, with empathy, compassion, and purpose. She remembers her heart beating wildly and the quivering of his lip — and then he agreed to the interview. “I vowed, in that moment, that I was going to take this as a huge responsibility and an honor and a calling,” she says. “That was the moment when I knew this is what I was going to do for the rest of my life.” That vow brought her to the mammo-van — and, ultimately, it saved her life, too. The Power of One Voice Robach doesn’t pretend she was a stoic that fall in 2013, carrying her diagnosis and treatment with a stiff upper lip or a prenatural grace in the immediate aftermath. “I did not react well,” she says. Who would? Plus, she had her two daughters at home — just 7 and 10 years old at the time — and she knew she wasn’t going to be able to pretend she hadn’t received news that shattered her. She’s never had a good poker face.

It’s clear that it is a vulnerable exercise, this kind of storytelling. It’s recounting the worst days of her life and framing it for audiences who may never fully understand all she went through — but for Robach, like Roberts said all those years ago, the idea of helping just one woman get tested keeps her going. “I've always believed, as a storyteller, in the power of one voice. Not everybody feels as comfortable sharing intimate details about something so personal. But every time you share your story, you impact the people around you or the people who listen or hear it,” she says. “...And when you share your story with vulnerability, you empower people to take charge of their health.” Material Good Robach’s story has evolved a lot since day one at NYU nearly a decade ago. She's going on nine breast cancer awareness months since her diagnosis and, yes, has recounted that terrible fall numerous times. With some distance, she has more insight into those early Octobers. Not only was it an anniversary of a deeply traumatic experience but it was also a month with pink ribbons and tons of publicity around the cause of breast cancer research. Robach admits she initially dreaded the thought of reflecting on her mammogram and diagnosis, opting instead to throw a wedding shower for her close friend during her first diagnosis anniversary. Putting her energy and care into another person, she says, felt like the right kind of positive and diverting activity for her at that time. Eventually, she found that the anniversary and the awareness month could be a catalyst for some real material good both for herself and the countless women she’s able to reach via her platform. After all, Breast Cancer Awareness Month saved her life. It’s a month of hope. “When you are a breast cancer survivor, or you're in treatment, or maybe you have family history, that month might mean something to you — but to me? I was really clueless about it,” she says. “But it reminds women that we're all vulnerable, that any one of us is susceptible to breast cancer. And then it's on us to take charge and control our own health by getting mammograms, by seeing our doctors, by making our appointments, and by keeping our appointments. And not just doing it once but doing it annually.”

And how was she going to tell her girls? How was she going to find the right words for them? After a conversation with her doctors and a therapist at NYU, Robach made every effort to break the news in a way that would reassure them: She had the best doctors, she was strong and felt healthy — with surgery and chemotherapy she would be okay. But she could tell right as she said it, the word “cancer” — already terrifying and stressful for adults — can hit kids even harder. “The moment I knew I had to tell my kids, I stopped crying,” she says. “I found this inner strength because I knew I couldn't be weak in front of them. And that actually helped me process it and figure out how I was going to get through it emotionally and mentally.” The stories we want to tell ourselves — and, moreso, the stories we want to tell our kids — about the impossibly scary things we can’t control don’t always match up with reality. Robach found that breaking the news to her girls and really being present for them and their feelings kicked her into fight mode. Sitting in the studio for our cover shoot, it’s abundantly clear that Robach has told her breast cancer story countless times. She has the delivery down. She knows the beats to pause, the details people are hungry for, and the emotions that are going to resonate. And she does it all with the air of someone who knows how to turn on for a camera but still maintain some vulnerability — the gooey center that feels human and shows just how deeply she cares about the cause. Unsurprisingly, she has everyone in the room wet-eyed as she gets to the part about her kids. A month later, when we catch up over the phone, she gets me weepy again.

(Robach really hammers home that last point, and it’s one that so many busy working moms like herself need to hear. “Women are really good at worrying about others and taking care of others and making sure the people we love in our life have what they need or have the doctor's appointments they need,” she says, “but we don't necessarily prioritize ourselves.”) Facing Fear It’s easy for cancer stories to be spit-shined and sanitized for maximum inspiration and minimum discomfort for their audiences. Cancer patients and survivors are too often flattened down to saint-like figures praised for their “strength” and quiet dignity and only given attention and support when their awareness month rolls around. Robach calls bullshit on all of that. She doesn’t shy away from the paralyzing fear she felt for years, unsure if she would live long enough to go on a family vacation, and she recognizes that there’s a benefit to opening up about the parts of her story that aren’t considered inspiring — or even all that palatable — to some people. For starters, she’s candid about the realities of the toll cancer can take, not only on your body, but your feelings about your body. Her treatment, for example, brought her into medicinally-induced menopause at the age of 40 — which stopped her reproductive years ahead of the schedule she’d envisioned. While trying to navigate well-meaning but tone-deaf comments from friends who were reassuring her how great it was she wasn’t getting a period anymore, Robach had to come to terms with the body changes that most of her peers wouldn’t experience for another decade. There is an element of vanity to the whole deal too, she says. It was mentally and physically devastating to have to grieve that stage of her life — and to know that she couldn’t access the same paths other women who navigate menopause might have to mitigate the symptoms. Hormone replacement therapy just isn’t an option for people who take Tamoxifen, a different kind of hormone therapy that’s used to greatly reduce the risk of a recurrence in breast cancer patients. And then there’s her breasts. She chose to have a double mastectomy — which found a second undetected tumor — and reconstructive surgery, but the changes in their look and feel is something she still has complicated feelings about.

“ . . . And when you share your story with vulnerability, you empower people to take charge of their health.”

“The moment I knew I had to tell my kids, I stopped crying. I found this inner strength because I knew I couldn’t be weak in front of them. And that actually helped me process it and figure out how I was going to get through it emotionally and mentally.”

“I was afraid to assume I had another year. But then I started to say ‘hey, but guess what? Right now, I do have right now.’”

In the years that followed, Robach became downright evangelical about fully living and practicing gratitude for each day. She tries to model these same ideals for her kids and push herself forward in new ways that challenge what she thought she was capable of — a push that has taken her countless miles on foot as she’s regained that essential trust and connection with her body and up the 19,341 feet of Mt. Kilimanjaro. “I was afraid to assume I had another year,” she admits. “But then I started to say ‘hey, but guess what? I do have right now.’ So I started running marathons and climbing mountains and doing things that I didn't think were possible.” These days, she’s not afraid of making plans and going even further, bringing her friends and family along for the kinds of running adventures that have felt therapeutic for her since recovery. “I've gotten a lot of people to run a marathon [who] didn't think they wanted to, and then they've actually enjoyed it,” she says. “I'm proud of the fact that not only have I learned how to live, but I've hopefully inspired the people who I love best to live in that same way — out loud, without fear, and knowing that you're stronger than you think.”

CREDITS Creative Director: Jennifer Ciminillo Photographer: George Chinsee Style Director: Alex Badia Market Editor: Emily Mercer VP of Video: Reshma Gopaldas Social Media Editor: Isabella Ong Health Editor: Katherine Speller Stylist: Jamie Salazar Makeup: Val Johnson Hair: DeAna Lando

Amy Robach Is

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STYLE CREDITS Et Ochs’ dress (Gia dress - similar in white) Stuart Weitzman’s sandals. Meme London’s earrings Alexis Bittar’s Brut Cluster Bypass Ring in Amethyst Fleur du Mal’s vegan leather dress. Gianvito Rossi’s sandals Sara Shala’s earrings Eriness’ Diamond Cushion Signet Ring in 14K Yellow Gold Alexis Bittar’s Solanales Crystal Heart Ring Galvan’s citrus dress Gianvito Rossi’s sandals Sara Shala’s earrings Maria McManus’ sweater and mini skirt. Jimmy Choo’s booties. Eriness’ Magnet Earrings in 14K Yellow Gold Eriness’ Diamond Cushion Signet Ring in 14K Yellow Gold Alexis Bittar’s Solanales Crystal Heart Ring Hervé Leger’s mohair double knit bra top and midi skirt Stuart Weitzman’s sandals. Celeste Starre’s ‘Peace and Love’ earrings Eriness’ Pink Sapphire Baguette Staple Necklace Eriness’ Diamond Cushion Signet Ring in 14K Yellow Gold Alexis Bittar’s Solanales Crystal Heart Ring Ronny Kobo's Green Dress Alexis Bittar’s Twisted Gold Crystal Point Hoop Earring in Quartz Yi Collection’s Green Tourmaline Crescendo Supreme Ring in 18k YG and 4.84ct Tourmaline Yi Collection’s Aquamarine & Green Tourmaline Macaroon Earring Yi Collection’s Emerald Echo Ring in 18K YG and 2.20ct Emerald Yi Collection’s Emerald Tonal Deco Supreme Ring in 18k YG, 3.3CT emerald

“I think a lot of times the relationship you have with your body after cancer is precarious, to say the least,” she says. “I lost trust in my body. I was afraid to trust my body.” Untold Stories Death is the quiet, slinking thing that no one really wants to address head-on in cancer stories. It hurts too much, it feels too hopeless, and it doesn’t leave a reader or viewer with the warm fuzzies that the triumphant survival story does. But that’s exactly why that kind of story feels so urgent and pressing to Robach, who cited a recent interview with Beverly Hills 90210’s Shannen Doherty discussing living with (and, yes, dying from) stage four metastatic breast cancer — which is sometimes treatable, but still terminal. She wants so badly for these beautiful women (who are dying but are also still here) to be seen and known and understood, particularly as she stands by the sides of two friends who were diagnosed with stage four metastatic cancer. “People are afraid to do stories about people who have no chance right now of living, because it's ugly. And it's scary. And it's messy,” Robach says. “I've learned as I've done stories over the years that it is such an important part of the story to include: the stage four metastatic community. They often feel ignored because no one wants to look at them. No one wants to acknowledge them. No one wants to talk about death with no chance of survival.” Robach says her storytelling approach has evolved to hold space for these kinds of stories in recent years — uncomfortable, difficult as they are.

“We need to not be afraid to talk about stage four. We need to tell these women's stories and that we need to push harder for more funding,” she says. “Someone once told me ‘there's a cure for cancer: It's called cash.’” Oof. She’s right, of course. And she sees very clearly the impact that can come from getting a story about these vulnerable, under-represented patients right and in front of her audience: It can get us just a little closer to a world where that diagnosis isn’t a death sentence. Making Plans If the whole “climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro” thing didn’t clue you in, there’s nothing like nearly dying to kickstart your drive to live. Robach recalls the early years after her diagnosis, “living in fear” and being so frozen with that anxiety that she wouldn’t even go on a family vacation because what if the cancer came back? But her husband, former Melrose Place star Andrew Shue, said something that resonated with her: “Don’t die before you die.” And it was true — there was no point counting herself out of the life she’d fought hard to keep.

“I don’t regret that decision at all,” she insists. “But I have had a double amputation and two foreign objects with all my nerve endings cut off, so I no longer can feel any sensation in my nipples. It's a constant reminder of the trauma that I went through.” When she’s in a sports bra (which is frequent, because she’s an avid runner) or in the shower, they just feel strange — like they aren’t a part of her. “Because all the tissue was taken away — they’re not what I like them to look like,” she says. “But, my God, I’m alive! So you have to get past some of the vanity but I think it’s something you have to acknowledge. I wish I didn’t feel that way sometimes, but when you look in the mirror you can’t deny what you see and there are just moments you can’t deny how you feel. You have to let yourself mourn the loss of what you thought it was going to be — versus what it is — and then find a way back to gratitude.” That kind of reframing comes up more than once as we talk: the hard-earned acceptance and surrender to all the things you really can’t control without glossing over the numerous ways your body and mind keep score after surviving something deeply traumatic. “I think a lot of times the relationship you have with your body after cancer is precarious, to say the least,” she says. “I lost trust in my body. I was afraid to trust my body.” Untold Stories Death is the quiet, slinking thing that no one really wants to address head-on in cancer stories. It hurts too much, it feels too hopeless, and it doesn’t leave a reader or viewer with the warm fuzzies that the triumphant survival story does. But that’s exactly why that kind of story feels so urgent and pressing to Robach, who cited a recent interview with Beverly Hills 90210’s Shannen Doherty discussing living with (and, yes, dying from) stage four metastatic breast cancer — which is sometimes treatable, but still terminal. She wants so badly for these beautiful women (who are dying but are also still here) to be seen and known and understood, particularly as she stands by the sides of two friends who were diagnosed with stage four metastatic cancer. “People are afraid to do stories about people who have no chance right now of living, because it's ugly. And it's scary. And it's messy,” Robach says. “I've learned as I've done stories over the years that it is such an important part of the story to include: the stage four metastatic community. They often feel ignored because no one wants to look at them. No one wants to acknowledge them. No one wants to talk about death with no chance of survival.” Robach says her storytelling approach has evolved to hold space for these kinds of stories in recent years — uncomfortable, difficult as they are. “We need to not be afraid to talk about stage four. We need to tell these women's stories and that we need to push harder for more funding,” she says. “Someone once told me ‘there's a cure for cancer: It's called cash.’” Oof. She’s right, of course. And she sees very clearly the impact that can come from getting a story about these vulnerable, under-represented patients right and in front of her audience: It can get us just a little closer to a world where that diagnosis isn’t a death sentence. Making Plans If the whole “climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro” thing didn’t clue you in, there’s nothing like nearly dying to kickstart your drive to live. Robach recalls the early years after her diagnosis, “living in fear” and being so frozen with that anxiety that she wouldn’t even go on a family vacation because what if the cancer came back? But her husband, former Melrose Place star Andrew Shue, said something that resonated with her: “Don’t die before you die.” And it was true — there was no point counting herself out of the life she’d fought hard to keep.

Who would? Plus, she had her two daughters at home — just 7 and 10 years old at the time — and she knew she wasn’t going to be able to pretend she hadn’t received news that shattered her. She’s never had a good poker face. And how was she going to tell her girls? How was she going to find the right words for them? After a conversation with her doctors and a therapist at NYU, Robach made every effort to break the news in a way that would reassure them: She had the best doctors, she was strong and felt healthy — with surgery and chemotherapy she would be okay. But she could tell right as she said it, the word “cancer” — already terrifying and stressful for adults — can hit kids even harder. “The moment I knew I had to tell my kids, I stopped crying,” she says. “I found this inner strength because I knew I couldn't be weak in front of them. And that actually helped me process it and figure out how I was going to get through it emotionally and mentally.” The stories we want to tell ourselves — and, moreso, the stories we want to tell our kids — about the impossibly scary things we can’t control don’t always match up with reality. Robach found that breaking the news to her girls and really being present for them and their feelings kicked her into fight mode. Sitting in the studio for our cover shoot, it’s abundantly clear that Robach has told her breast cancer story countless times. She has the delivery down. She knows the beats to pause, the details people are hungry for, and the emotions that are going to resonate. And she does it all with the air of someone who knows how to turn on for a camera but still maintain some vulnerability — the gooey center that feels human and shows just how deeply she cares about the cause. Unsurprisingly, she has everyone in the room wet-eyed as she gets to the part about her kids. A month later, when we catch up over the phone, she gets me weepy again.