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The Beginning

Thursday 10th Sep

I never imagined that breast cancer would become part of my story.

Before cancer, life was busy. I was a wife, a mum, a friend and a woman building a career that I was proud of. I had spent years creating a life around the people I loved, my family, my work and a future I thought I still had plenty of time to plan.

Then, in April 2022 everything changed.

My breast cancer journey began.

A breast cancer diagnosis has a way of dividing your life into two parts, before and after.

I remember the shock of being told that I had cancer. You hear the words, but there is a part of you that struggles to comprehend what they actually mean. Suddenly, something that had always seemed distant and frightening was sitting right in the middle of my own life.

There were appointments, tests, scans, discussions and decisions. My life became filled with medical terminology I never wanted to learn. I had to put my trust in doctors and specialists while trying to understand what was happening to my own body.

I very quickly learned that cancer was not always as straightforward as it first appeared.

One operation became another. There were more conversations, more decisions and more uncertainty.

There was also the emotional exhaustion that came with repeatedly putting my body through surgery while somehow trying to remain positive and carry on with everyday life.

Underneath all of it was fear.

Fear of what was going to happen. Fear of treatment. Fear of how my body would change. Fear of what the future would look like.

And perhaps the biggest fear of all…would I get through this?

Cancer doesn't only affect your body. It affects your mind, your confidence, your relationships and the way you look at life.

There were days when I felt strong. Days when I told myself I could handle whatever came next.

And then there were days when I didn't feel strong at all.

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Seven Surgeries

Thursday 10th Sep

Eventually, my journey involved something I could never have imagined at the beginning.

Seven surgeries directly related to my cancer and reconstruction.

Seven times I had to prepare myself physically and emotionally for an operation. Seven times I had to put my trust in surgeons and medical teams. Seven times I had to recover. And seven times I had to somehow pick myself up and continue living my life.

The surgeries weren't simply events on a medical timeline.

Each one carried its own fear, anticipation, pain, recovery and emotional impact.

A mastectomy is not simply another operation. It is the removal of a part of your body that can be deeply connected to your identity, your femininity and the way you see yourself.

For me, what was initially one mastectomy eventually became two.

One of the most difficult things to process was knowing that some of my cancer had not been visible on the imaging before surgery. It was only through surgery and the subsequent pathology that the full extent of what was happening became apparent.

That knowledge created another level of fear in my mind.

If they hadn't been able to see everything in the first breast on the imaging, how could I ever feel completely confident that something wasn't being missed in the other breast?

It became one of those thoughts that was incredibly difficult to switch off.

After everything I had already experienced, I knew that living with that uncertainty would be difficult for me. Ultimately, I made the very personal decision to have a prophylactic mastectomy of my other breast.

It wasn't a decision that was made lightly, and it wasn't because cancer had been diagnosed in that breast. It was a choice I made for myself after everything I had already been through and because of the fear and uncertainty that experience had created.

Cancer gives you choices you never imagined you would have to make.

For me, choosing to remove my other breast was about doing what I felt I needed to do to move forward with my life and give myself some peace of mind.

But even making that decision didn't simply make all the fear disappear.

In some ways, the experience had already changed the way I thought. Knowing that cancer could be present without necessarily being clearly seen left me questioning things I had previously trusted without a second thought.

That uncertainty has stayed with me and is part of why, even today, an appointment, a new symptom or a concern can sometimes take my mind somewhere I don't want it to go.

There were also times when things didn't go according to plan. There were complications, further procedures and periods when it felt as though just as I was recovering from one thing, I was preparing myself for the next.

Reconstruction became another part of my journey. It wasn't simply about rebuilding what had been removed. It meant more surgery, more recovery and learning to accept a body that had changed dramatically.

I had to learn that reconstruction wasn't about getting my old body back. It was about learning to live comfortably and confidently in the body I had now.

But the physical scars were only part of what cancer left behind.

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The Parts People Don't Always See

Thursday 10th Sep

There were moments of loneliness that were difficult to explain.

People can be around you, love you and care about you, yet you can still feel incredibly alone inside your own experience.

I also learned that not everyone knows how to respond when someone has cancer. Some people don't know what to say. Some disappear. Some surprise you with their kindness. Some relationships become stronger, while others change in ways you never expected.

Cancer showed me who could sit beside me during the difficult moments. It also taught me that I couldn't expect everyone to understand what I was going through.

Perhaps one of the hardest parts of my journey hasn't always been the surgery. It has been everything that happens inside your head.

The fear. The uncertainty. The grief. The changes to your body. The exhaustion. The feeling that life is carrying on around you while you are trying to process something enormous.

I've learned that I can't control how other people respond to my cancer journey, but I can choose what I accept into my life now Share

The Treatment That Continues

Thursday 10th Sep

One of the things I don't think people always understand about breast cancer is that it doesn't necessarily end when the surgeries are over.

Surgery was a huge part of my journey, but it wasn't the end of my treatment.

For many of us, treatment continues long after the physical scars have healed. Medication can be prescribed for years, along with ongoing appointments, monitoring and follow-up care.

That was something I hadn't fully appreciated before cancer became part of my own life.

From the outside, once your surgeries are finished, you've returned to work and life appears to have gone back to normal, people can understandably think, "You're through it now."

But you may not be through it at all.

You can still be taking medication every day because of cancer. You can still be dealing with the side effects of that treatment. You can still be attending appointments, having follow-up care and making decisions about treatment that may continue for years.

And every time another year of treatment is added, you are reminded that cancer hasn't simply disappeared from your life because the surgery has finished.

There is a physical and emotional weight that comes with knowing you still have years of treatment ahead of you.

For me, that has been another part of learning what it really means to live beyond a breast cancer diagnosis.

Treatment doesn't just affect your body. It can affect your mood, your energy, your confidence and the way you feel within yourself. Sometimes the very medication designed to protect your future can also make everyday life more difficult.

You can be incredibly grateful to have treatment available to you while at the same time acknowledging that living with treatment can be hard.

Both of those things can be true.

Cancer is not simply a diagnosis that ends when surgery ends. For me, the cancer journey continues for as long as treatment remains part of my life and, emotionally, perhaps even beyond that.

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The Fear That Doesn't Always Leave

Thursday 10th Sep

Alongside ongoing treatment is something else that doesn't simply disappear, the fear.

For me, there is another part of my diagnosis that makes that fear difficult to completely put aside.

Lymphovascular invasion was present.

Knowing this has inevitably left me with unwanted thoughts about whether my cancer journey may not be completely over and what the future might hold.

There are moments when that knowledge sits quietly in the background, and other moments when it comes to the forefront of my mind.

What if it comes back?

It is a question I don't want to live my life asking, but it is also something I can't pretend never crosses my mind.

The experience of having cancer that wasn't clearly visible on imaging has added another layer to that fear. Once you have experienced something being there that couldn't necessarily be seen beforehand, it can be difficult to completely silence the thought that something else could be missed.

Every appointment can bring some of that anxiety back. Every new symptom or concern can make your mind go somewhere you don't want it to go.

From the outside, people can look at you and think, "You're through it now."

But undergoing treatment, surviving cancer and emotionally recovering from everything you've experienced are very different things.

I've discovered there is a difference between being cancer-free and feeling free from cancer.

That is something I am still learning.

I cannot change the fact that lymphovascular invasion was present, and I cannot know exactly what the future holds. What I can choose is how I live my life today.

At this current time, I remain positive. I continue with my treatment, I continue looking forward and, most importantly, I continue living this new life that cancer has given me a very different appreciation for.

I'm learning how to acknowledge the fear without allowing it to control me.

I'm learning that moving forward doesn't mean pretending cancer never happened. It doesn't mean that I never worry about what may happen in the future, and it doesn't mean waiting until every treatment has finished before allowing myself to live again.

It means accepting that there are things I cannot control while choosing not to allow the possibility of tomorrow to take away the life I have today.

And today, I am here.

I am living.

And I intend to keep doing exactly that.

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Finding Myself Again

Thursday 10th Sep

Through all of this, I have continued to be a wife, a mum, a daughter, a friend, a businesswoman and, importantly, simply me.

I have continued working. I have continued building my career. I have continued making plans. I have continued celebrating birthdays, anniversaries and milestones. I have continued dreaming about holidays and the future.

And perhaps that is one of the biggest things cancer has taught me.

Life doesn't stop because you have cancer.

It changes.

You change.

Your priorities change.

The things you once took for granted suddenly become incredibly precious.

An ordinary day can feel like a gift. A laugh with my family. A meal together. A holiday. A beautiful moment. Being able to make plans for the future.

Those things matter more to me now.

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What Cancer Has Taught Me

Thursday 10th Sep

I don't want to pretend that cancer has made me grateful for everything.

It hasn't.

There are things I wish had never happened. There are experiences I would happily give back. There are fears I wish I didn't have. And there are still days when I struggle.

But I also know now that I am stronger than I ever believed I could be.

Not because I have been strong every day, but because I kept going on the days when I didn't feel strong at all.

I've learned that strength isn't always smiling and saying everything is fine.

Sometimes strength is admitting that you're scared. Sometimes it is asking for help. Sometimes it is getting through one more appointment. Sometimes it is taking another tablet when you're tired of treatment being part of your life. Sometimes it is simply getting out of bed and facing another day.

And sometimes strength is allowing yourself to grieve the person you were before cancer while learning to love the person you are becoming.

Cancer has also changed the way I think about time.

Before cancer, it is easy to believe there will always be another year, another holiday, another opportunity or another time to do the things you've been putting off.

Cancer teaches you that none of us really knows what is around the corner.

I don't want that knowledge to make me frightened of living. I want it to make me more determined to live.

I don't want to wait until the day somebody tells me treatment is completely finished before allowing myself to feel that my life can move forward.

My life is happening now.

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I Am Still Here

Thursday 10th Sep

My breast cancer journey began in April 2022 and more than four years later , it continues.

On 26 August 2026, I reached a milestone that felt incredibly significant. I attended my final check-up with my wonderful plastic surgeon, Dr Michelle Locke. 

After seven surgeries, two mastectomies, reconstruction and years of appointments, this marked the end of the surgical and reconstruction part of my journey. It was emotional to realise that one chapter, which had consumed such a large part of my life for more than four years was finally at an end. 

I will always be incredibly grateful for the care, skill and support I received throughout that time and especially to Michelle for her empathy and being such an important part of putting me back together. 

But saying goodbye to my Michelle doesn't mean my journey is over. 

My treatment is ongoing and monitoring continues. I still have annual check-ups with my amazing cancer surgeon, Dr Magdalena Biggar as well as ongoing check-ups with my amazing oncologist, Dr Naera Waters.

The knowledge that lymphovascular invasion was present also remains with me, as do those unwanted thoughts about what the future may hold. 

But I don't want those thoughts to overshadow what this milestone represents. 

One part on my journey is over...

And that is something I am incredibly grateful to be able to say. 

My breast cancer journey has involved seven surgeries, two mastectomies, reconstruction, complications. medication, ongoing treatment, uncertainty and more emotions than I could ever put into a single sentence. 

But I am still here.

Cancer has changed my body. It has changed my perspective. It has changed some of my relationships. It has changed the way I think about time.

But it has not taken away who I am.

I am still a wife. I am still a mum. I am still a daughter. I am still a friend. I am still a businesswoman.

And I am still someone with plans and dreams.

I am learning how to live without allowing the fear of what might happen tomorrow to steal today from me.

I don't know exactly what the future holds. None of us really do.

But I know I don't want to spend the rest of my life waiting for cancer to return or waiting for treatment to finally finish before I allow myself to move forward.

I want to live.

I want to travel. I want to love my family fiercely. I want to celebrate every milestone. I want to laugh. I want to make memories. I want to keep building my career and a life that feels like mine.

Because breast cancer is part of my story.

It is a significant part.

It has left scars, some visible and some that no one else can see.

But it is not my whole story.

I am still here.

I survived the surgeries...

I survived the uncertainty...

I am surviving the fear...

And now I am learning to live beyond the diagnosis, even while treatment remains part of my life.

This is not the end of my story.

It is simply the beginning of my next chapter.

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