By Ashley Inda
It has been four years since my delayed diagnosis of stage III breast cancer due to dense breast tissue. Four years since my world—and that of my family and my community—was turned upside down. Four years since I vowed to turn my pain into purpose.
In those four years, I have shared my story countless times—through television and radio interviews, written op-eds, testimony before legislators, and conversations with any woman who will listen and has dense breasts. I have told it vulnerably, bravely, and with the urgency it demands.
Each time, my hope has been twofold: to empower women to trust their bodies and advocate for themselves—and persuade legislators to finally take action and pass legislation requiring insurance companies to cover supplemental breast cancer screening, so all women can receive complete and appropriate care.
Now, as Gail’s Law—our third attempt to pass legislation requiring insurance coverage for supplemental screening and diagnostic imaging for women with dense breasts and those at higher risk—stands closer to passage than ever before, I find myself asking the same question yet again:
What will finally be enough?
Is it the dense breast reality—that 40% of women have dense breasts, that mammograms can miss up to 50% of cancers in dense tissue, that 85% of breast cancers occur in women with dense breasts, and that 73% of women diagnosed have no family history at all?
Is it the alarming trend that breast cancer rates have been steadily rising since 2013, particularly among women 50 and younger?
Is it the financial truth—that detecting cancer early is far more cost-effective than treating it late, saving both insurers and patients significant expense?
Is it the workforce and community impact—that early detection keeps women working, parenting, teaching, volunteering, paying taxes, stocking food pantries, and tucking their children into bed at night?
Is it the human cost—that delayed diagnosis steals time, health, and normalcy from women and their families, and that later-stage disease brings collateral damage—neuropathy, lymphedema, lifelong disability—that can be just as devastating as the diagnosis itself?
Or is it the most basic truth of all—that laws exist to prevent harm before it happens?
After four years of advocacy, I have come to this conclusion: it is all enough.
When lawmakers ask what argument should finally move this legislation forward, my answer is simple: all of it.
Because here is the truth that matters most: you don’t know you need supplemental screening until it’s too late.
That is precisely why laws exist.
We don’t require seat belts because people plan to crash their cars.
We don’t mandate smoke detectors because families expect their homes to catch fire.
We don’t enforce drunk driving laws because anyone thinks it will happen to them.
We pass safety laws because waiting for tragedy is unacceptable.
Gail’s Law is no different. It exists for the moment a woman doesn’t see coming—the moment when a mammogram isn’t enough, when dense breast tissue hides a growing cancer, and when access to the right imaging can mean the difference between early treatment and irreversible loss.
Any one of these reasons should be enough.
Together, they make action unavoidable.
What makes this work so heavy—and so urgent—is that my story is no longer just my own.
As an occupational therapist who works primarily with oncology patients, I sit across from women every week who are living versions of what I lived through four years ago. They tell me about the lump that was dismissed. The “clear” mammogram. The dense breast tissue no one explained. The delayed diagnosis that changed everything.
And every time, a quiet, devastating thought crosses my mind:
If we had passed this law one—or even two—legislative sessions ago, this woman might not be sitting here today.
She might not be facing more aggressive treatment.
She might not be navigating life-altering side effects.
Her family might not be reeling from a diagnosis that could have been caught earlier.
This is no longer a hypothetical consequence of inaction.
It is happening now.
That is the cost of delay.
Not abstract.
Not future-facing.
Real. Ongoing. And entirely preventable.
If this bill does not pass for a third legislative session, we are not debating policy—we are deciding which women will be diagnosed too late.
No Wisconsin woman deserves to pay that price.
I urge everyone reading this to contact their representative and ask them to support and move Gail’s Law (SB 264 / AB 263) to the Assembly floor for a vote.
Enough is enough.