Today marks a very important day…………..the completion of my last three week cycle of chemotherapy. It is officially over, my bloods are good and it is time to move forward with my life. From this point on, I can consider myself a cancer survivor 🎉🎉
Wow, what a journey it has been…….
From the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach when I put the ultrasound probe on my own breast, to the shock of hearing the actual words “it’s a lobular breast cancer”, to the surgical decisions, to the prospect of chemotherapy, to losing my hair, to feeling completely debilitated, to today, seeing that bright light at the end of the tunnel.
I have taken you all on my journey and I thank each and every one of you for reading. I hope in some small way my words might help others. The support I have received throughout has been amazing and unwavering. I have learned so much about myself and about human nature. I feel privileged and humbled to live and work in such a supportive community.
I will continue to share with you how I am traveling as I am not naive enough to think that the story ends here, but the updates will be less often. I know there will still be challenges and unseen hurdles but I am confident I am now better equipped to deal with…….. shit (for want of a better word!).
A present from my McGrath nurse
You know me…….. always one to do my homework. I plan on reading this and adhering to as much of the advice as I can, because what I want more than anything, is to move forward with a fulfilling and positive life. One that is bigger, better and happier (less stressed) than pre-cancer.
Like I’ve mentioned before, one of the first things that ran through my mind when I was diagnosed was what I might miss out on this year. I became determined to miss the least amount possible. Cancer would not stop The Travel Bee!
The annual Augusta trip was carefully considered and decided it would be doable with a few minor adjustments. We headed down on Good Friday and with the help of amazing friends, our camp was set up in no time. A lovely birthday dinner with friends at the Colourpatch made our day.
Camp Bee 2025
Inclement weather didn’t stop us with around 11mm falling on our first night. We were cosy in the camper trailer and only had minor leaks. Saturday it rained on and off but between showers we managed to get in; a trip to Margaret River for pre chemo blood tests, a walk to the marina, wine tasting and a 600m swim at Flinders Bay. Not bad.
I was a little bit worried about looking like a chemo patient in the camping ground, but one upside of cold, wet weather was half the camping ground were in beanies so I blended in nicely!
Camping Beanie
Sunday the sun came out to play and we enjoyed; a few quiet strolls, a visit from Mum, Dad, my sister and niece, Ice cream and a night out at the pub with friends. At the risk of standing out, I decided to jazz things up a bit for the dinners out, choosing more stylish headwear. I’ve even mastered how to do my wraps with no mirror!
Camp Bee this year expanded to two sites with Charlie and his mates parking up next door, with roof top tents and swags. It was so nice to see our tradition continued and shared with friends and girlfriends. I just love that he still wants to come and we plan to continue booking more sites as the family grows. In the 13 years we have been coming, we have evolved through bikes, scooters and skateboards to P plates in cars and utes. Love the changes, and gosh it’s so much easier now!
Today is pack up day and we are taking our time. The weather is glorious, we have squeezed in another walk and a 700m swim between packing. Lunch is done and we are nearly ready for the final pack up push and guess what……..
The pre chemo steroids have worked their magic, my muscles 💪 are flexing and I’ll have it done in a flash!!!
Round 3 chemo tomorrow, then I’ll be more than half way 💪 💪💪🎉🎉🎉
When these kinds of diagnoses occur, the person involved has to make so many choices. Not the least of which, is who to tell and when. This is very individual, and something that may change along the way. Your wants and needs ebb and flow.
For me, the first big hurdle was whether to tell the family at Christmas. Our children knew about my appointments and asked how it went. We are a very open family and I could not lie, so they knew things weren’t good the evening of the 23rd.
A close friend who always shares Christmas Eve with us, knew the minute she walked in the door something was up. She didn’t ask, but after a few drinks I shared my news. We had a cry. It was still so raw, yet I took comfort in knowing she was behind me and ready to assist.
On Christmas Day, we always start with a swim in the shark net. My husband went alone. I was not allowed to swim following the biopsy and I had barely slept. I decided to reserve my energy for the family. I knew it would be a tough day.
Our swimming friends were surprised not to see me. My husband told them why, naturally they were shocked but they were there for him, something I am very grateful for. My first messages of support started rolling in.
I decided I would conceal my news from the family. I didn’t want to ruin everyone’s day. But, like my friend, Mum new something was up. We had gathered for brunch and I just couldn’t face the pile of food in front of me. She asked if I was sick………….. I said……… I think so…….. and it all came out.
When I think about it, it was actually the best time to tell them. At least we were all there to support one another, Christmas is the only time of the year this happens. I opened a bottle of bubbles and Mum and I drank our sorrows away. While everyone else fussed around, sorting food, offering support and explaining things to the kids. We had each other.
It made me realise, that getting it out in the open was going to help me immensely. I needed to feed off the support of others. I found it very difficult to talk about, but a few days after Christmas I started messaging my friends and colleagues. I will be forever grateful that I did. Although I didn’t feel strong enough to see them, the messages of support gave me so much strength.
In my previous blog https://theboobee.blog/2025/01/31/finding-strength/, I talked of how my knowledge gave me the ability to be strong. True, but it was my friends and family that made it a reality. In the wee hours, when I lay awake thinking about what was next, I reread those messages of support over and over. I drew strength from them and I knew I could go forward and beat this thing.
As you all know, I have now opened my circle even wider and I am considering ways to make it wider still. As I said at the start, it is a very individual choice as to when you let people in. When you, and only you (as the person going through this) feels the time is right. For many, the battle may remain a secret for a long time or maybe even forever. That is your choice.
For me, letting people in gave me tremendous comfort. Not only that, it gave me the bravery and brawn to put it all out there, to be raw and honest. And this appealed to one of my biggest moral values, to help others (it’s why I do my job, why I take on so much). But you all made me feel that maybe I have a role to play. Sharing my story and my knowledge could help others in more ways than one.
It’s not just about breast cancer. It’s about sharing your problems, allowing yourself to be vulnerable and allowing people who care about you to shoulder some of the burden. I have learnt a great deal about human nature in the last few weeks. I am not alone in wanting to help others, it is a very common and noble trait. We just have to allow people to actually do it, to say yes when they offer support and remember that it actually helps both parties.
I’m going to step back a bit and tell you how I found my nasty little cancer. Being in the industry it would be remiss of me not to….
I have had biannual mammograms since I was 40. I always practiced what I preached. But, prior to that, my breasts were troublesome. The first biopsy I had was back when I was at university, we were studying mammography and I found a lump. I had an ultrasound and a fine needle aspiration (FNA). It showed nothing abnormal, but the lump remained.
After having my first child and while breast feeding, I found another lump. Ultrasounds and another FNA identified a blocked duct. Phew. For a decade or so my breasts behaved.
Then, in my late 30s I had a third ultrasound. I can’t remember if I found another lump or if the doctor just sent me for an ultrasound because they were lumpy. This ultrasound was interesting.
Machines and resolution had improved so much and the sonographer was able to determine that the first lump (from back at uni) was a lymph node sitting in my breast. A slightly unusual place for a node but nothing to worry about and finally an explanation for my lump. She also found cysts, and lots of them.
Once I started having mammograms my report always said that I had dense breasts. It recommended I see the GP who, given my history, routinely sent me for an ultrasound. Several times, this lead to more biopsies of complex cysts.
In the industry we would say that I had ‘busy’ breasts. I was every sonographer’s worst nightmare, locating, comparing and documenting multiple cysts is never fun.
18 months ago I had my mammogram as normal, followed by an ultrasound. Everything seemed stable and no biopsy was needed. They were their usual ‘busy’ selves.
Given the nature of my breasts, I always found self examination difficult. My breasts were full of lumps and bumps. But, on a regular basis I tried my best. In November 2024, I felt something unusual. It was much harder than the rest of my tissue, sitting deep to the inferior aspect of my nipple, about the size of a small grape.
For a few weeks I continued to feel it. Then I scanned myself (ultrasound). What I saw was not an obvious cancer but an unusual area, in fact I had never seen anything like it. Still I waited. I scanned myself again. No change.
I went to the GP who agreed she could feel something. She referred me for a ‘proper’ ultrasound and told me it was time to step out from being an imaging professional and into the patient role. Gulp.
I was super busy with work, finishing a tafe course, and general family life. It took me a little while to co-ordinate a time with my colleague (she offered to stay back late, come in early, work through lunch whatever it took…… but I was busy). Finally I got there, 2 days before Christmas. My colleagues were amazing, I went from ultrasound to contrast mammogram to biopsy in one afternoon. By the end of the day, I knew. I didn’t have pathology results, but I knew.
If you’ve been reading my blogs you’ll know the torment of the waiting over Christmas and all I could think was…….. Amber, you could have done this weeks ago but you were too ‘busy’.
I know many women find themselves in this situation, putting themselves last on their list of priorities. I don’t know how we change, but this has been an illustration of why we shouldn’t do it. It’s also an illustration of the value in knowing your own body and using all of the resources out there to detect cancer early.
I got it early, but I will always think, I could have got it earlier if I, and my breasts weren’t so dam ‘busy’.
Ax
Glossary:
Cyst – fluid filled pocket. Benign, very common, particularly around peri-menopause.
Dense breasts – breasts that have a higher percentage of fibro-glandular breast tissue compared to fat. This type of breast is normal and relatively common, but it does increase the risk of breast cancer. It also makes mammograms more difficult to read. But, this does not mean mammograms are not valuable with this type of breast, they most certainly are. Some cancers can only ever be detected on mammograms.
My results are in this blog. Sorry it’s a bit long winded. I’m building suspense 🤣
Throughout any cancer journey there is a lot of waiting. Waiting for initial diagnostic imaging, waiting for biopsies or tests, waiting for results, waiting to see a specialist, waiting for a surgery date, waiting for more results, waiting for what’s next.
In my work, patients have always said to me that the waiting is the worst part and I have to agree. And I was lucky. Being in the industry, there were some strings pulled and I was squeezed in at the diagnostic level and I jagged a cancellation with the surgeon for my initial consultation.
The absolute hardest part of my journey so far, was being diagnosed over the Christmas period. The GP was closed. The surgeon was closed. The breast care nurses….closed. There was no one to talk to. My brain went wild. My knowledge became both an advantage and a disadvantage.
By the end of the ten day period, I had made decisions on what I wanted to do in terms of surgery, but my mind had also conjured the absolute worst case scenario. I hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten, had lost weight and generally lost condition. Not a good way to start a battle against cancer.
I am the type of person who has to have a plan. If I am moving forward ticking things off, I’m okay. There was no plan. The only thing I could think to do was to swim……. every day. My friends rallied to keep me company. All the while, I was thinking about our holiday on the 9th of January….. cancel or not cancel?!
Once the GP opened (2nd Jan), I got a referral to the surgeon, got some sleeping pills and had a good cry with a professional. Tick, I had done something.
Then I waited another four days for the surgeon’s offices to open (6th Jan). They opened three days before our holiday (9th Jan). As I said earlier, I was lucky enough to get a cancellation, we saw her 17 hours before we flew out!
We decided to start hormone blockers, go on holiday and book the surgery for as soon as we returned. The hormone blockers were the key in my mind, I was doing something towards my treatment, moving forward.
We had a great holiday and I will be forever grateful we took the time. It allowed us as a family, firstly to set it aside and have some fun and then as it came closer, time to prepare ourselves for what was ahead. I ate and I slept in the first week, the second week was harder.
Peering into North Korea
Then I came home with Influenza B!! No one else got sick, just me. Not really surprising considering I was in poor condition. It made for a challenging surgery, a grumpy anaesthetist and a tough recovery. But, I got through it.
In a way, the difficult recovery was good, it took my mind off the pathology results. I had to focus completely on getting well, my asthma was bad and I had wounds to heal. I had things to work on to move forward, and working on that, got me almost the whole way until results day.
Almost.
The last two days were tough, my mind was going over all of the possibilities. Thank you to those who provided distractions.
Yesterday, we drove to Perth. I did not stop talking the entire way, poor husband. But, it was a good indication my chest had recovered and the only way I knew to stop me thinking about what was coming.
The results were good! The lymph nodes are clear, all margins are clear, the lesion was a little bit smaller than expected, the nasty little bugger is gone! No radiotherapy. Then she said…… but I would like you to see an oncologist just to get their opinion. The cancer was invasive, therefore, ‘preventative’ chemotherapy still isn’t off the table and we need their opinion on long term hormonal therapy.
So, fantastic news, I am so relieved and it is all very positive. But, a small part of me thinks….. great, here I am back to waiting. The referral is sent, so fingers crossed it isn’t too long until I see someone. Hopefully I don’t need it, but chemotherapy was always a scary thought to me because it is something I know little about.
In the meantime, I am back to my activity table and healing, the wounds have a way to go yet. My daughter and I are having a 1000 piece puzzle race. She’s good, and she also has techniques to distract me from my puzzle in order to get the upper hand. I think I might have selected the easier puzzle though, so we’ll see…
So right now, I am in a phase of healing. It’s physical right? There are cuts and bruises, wounds and drains. But, it would be silly to think there isn’t a big emotional part to healing.
The Breast Care nurse told me, there will be tears on day 3, that’s when the emotional toll rears its head. I thought….. nah I’m different, I’m not emotional about my boobs. At least that part was true (or has been so far). The emotions came, but it was for something entirely different and very unexpected.
At 3am on Friday (day 3, albeit only just) I woke up with a start. I immediately started to cry. I had a sudden realisation…… to explain it, I have to go back and tell you a few things. Many will know these, others……. well what can I say, soon you will know everything about me!!!!
For many years, I have suffered with anxiety. I’ve had all kinds of treatment; psychologists, medication, strategy plans (one of which is writing). Time and time again the people I spoke to said…… you need to find your trauma. At least two said, it is a childhood trauma.
Sorry just had to stop writing for a cry…. (BTW it is 2:49am two days after the first outburst).
I could never figure it out. I had a good childhood, I grew up supported and loved. I got to play the sports I wanted (although sometimes limited by asthma). I ate well. I swam and I swam. Granted, we were the last people in the street to get a CD player but hey…. that couldn’t be it. All of these are Australia memories, I didn’t really have memories of living in New Zealand (in hindsight, that should have been a clue).
Here’s the interesting bit….
On Tuesday night, I had a terrible time. My asthma flared. I was flat on my back, had little movement, didn’t have the drugs I would normally use and I just could not breathe. I was absolutely terrified.
Bam 💥
It had to happen again for me to see it. There was my trauma right there. I was and therefore am, absolutely terrified of not being able to control my breathing.
As a child, I must have constantly been in this state. As it turns out, I was a very sick little girl. I did know that, but the extent to which, I had completely blocked out. Moving to Australia at 8 years old not only served to provide drastic improvement to my health but it was the perfect place for my little brain to build a wall and lock all of that terror away.
I never processed it. I never grew from it. And it held me back big time.
I’ve had two days to chat to Mum, Dad and my sister. We have shared memories and there has been a lot of ‘Ohhhhhhh, that makes sense now’. It has been a beautiful time for all of us.
I now know, this journey will heal so much. I even wonder if breast cancer could turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to me?
THAT SOUNDS CRAZY but already, it is setting me free.
Many people have commented on how strong I have been throughout the ordeal to this point. They ask me how I’m doing it. The answer is quite simple. It’s all about knowledge.
I know this disease. I know how it works, the different types, surgical options, surgical outcomes, other treatment options and recommendations. Through my work, I have literally studied this information to qualify and then seen it over and over.
For this reason, I was able to make quick, clear decisions about what I needed and wanted. I was in the drivers seat. It is the single biggest difference between myself and the average patient in my situation. It is something that you cannot give or recommend or offer to other patients, because it took me 25 years working in the industry in Australia, NZ and the UK to gain it.
What I’m saying is………. only someone with my knowledge could have even attempted to have the strength and clarity I’ve had. I can tell you now, any other cancer diagnosis and it would have been a very different story.
I guess the only thing I could say to others, is to get as much information as you can, then take your time (within reason of course) to make your decision. Having some level of control over your treatment makes a big difference.
For me, there will be other challenges which I will continue to write about. I have experienced several. Writing about them is me processing, dealing with and then moving forward from each one as they arise. I recently discovered how important this process is.
I’m still finding it hard to accept I have cancer. I have spent 15 of my 25 year career, finding breast cancers. Then I found mine. That wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Although sometimes I think….. maybe I always knew it was going to happen and then I wonder….. is this what my career was actually about?
I mean let’s face it, in Australia 1 in 7 women will develop breast cancer in their lifetime. The odds are pretty high, unfortunately. Even with no family history. Then there is my dense breasts, my propensity towards being a stress head, liking a drink, taking hormones etc.
Did I do this to myself?
But that is not what this is about. No good can come from blame when it comes to cancer. I know that. Yet, somehow I still went down that rabbit hole.
It’s been almost a month since the radiologist said “I think this is malignant Amber”. I can only just put into words how I am feeling and all my friends know….. I have lots of words. It isn’t often I am speechless!
I feel cheated, I feel pissed off, I feel angry but I also feel resigned, I feel positive, I feel like kicking this thing to the kerb and I will. I feel like demonstrating how well this can go, like finding the positives in the shit storm.
This will be the story of my BooBees, from the inside and outside.
The BooBee Journey 