strength – The BooBee Journey

‘The comeback is greater than the setback’

Early in this journey a friend sent me the above quote. I loved it then and I love it now. It has been on my mind this week as I feel my strength returning and as Amber 2.0 is beginning to emerge.

There are changes I am noticing in the way I am approaching things…..

Things that used to scare me don’t (like helicopter rides).

Things that I found challenging aren’t (like being patient in a waiting room, love my sudoku).

I’m more likely to say what I want, I’ve got nothing to lose (you can always say no!).

I’m getting on and doing it (not just thinking about it).

I am finally starting to feel like me again but with improvements. I’ve got hair (albeit grey). I’ve got life. I’ve got health. I’ve got eyebrows!

The biggest change in my outlook this month has been focusing on exercise, both for my physical and mental health. I have been taking a rehabilitation gym class with a physiotherapist. Each week I surprise myself at how much I have improved and it feels so good.

I am swimming twice a week and for the first time in years I am back in the pool, having favoured the ocean. I forgot how much swimming is like meditation. Rhythm and flow. The black line is my friend.

There is no doubt I am coming back stronger. I won’t be taking life for granted anymore. Life is for living and with spring around the corner, I am looking forward to what is next.

Treatment 4: The bell ringing

Today was the best day! I cannot begin to explain what a relief it is to know that chemo is behind me. No matter what happens next, I am through the worst of it.

The day started with our ritual giggle about the weird hat in the waiting room. I think I like this style the best 🤣 Without fail we laugh until we cry. I will miss this part of chemotherapy!

From there we headed to the dreaded weighing station (I won’t miss that) and then into my treatment room. My communications whiteboard greeted me with the message below, it put a smile on my face right away. The chemo nurses are so lovely and empathetic, they always know what to do, say or write.

The treatment itself went well and the kids turned up just in time for the bell ringing ceremony. They insisted on being there and it was lovely to share the celebration with them (most of you will have seen the video on Facebook). What a moment it was, the camera didn’t catch the tears in my eyes.

From there, we headed to The Parade Hotel for a celebration lunch. All smiles and one of the few times I’ve seen Charlie not finish a meal!

It’s been such a journey, but the kindness and support I have received has been unbelievable and I feel very lucky to be a part of such a great community and to have wonderful family and friends. Nikki has been my rock through chemo and I love her to bits for being there at the shitty times.

So now I rest and then in three weeks I find out what’s next. The journey is not over but I am confident the worst part is. We await the genetic test results and I already know hormone blockers are on the horizon. More side effects to negotiate, but that’s ok if it saves my life.

Thank you to every one of you for following my journey and providing support. You don’t know how much strength it gives me.

To tell or not to tell?

Sorry……. probably tears again.

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.

A x

Finding strength

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.