women – The BooBee Journey

Another milestone – debuting the hair in public!

Another month has gone by and to be honest not much has changed. This healing business is slow and the knock on effects of chemo just keep on giving!

Mentally I’m up and down. There are many days where I feel like myself, only to have a little setback and my mind runs wild with dooms day scenarios. I agonise over why certain things are not improving and try linking it to what I am doing, eating, saying, thinking or feeling. It’s exhausting.

But…… there are positives and I am celebrating the small wins.

Today I went out for coffee with a group of beautiful breast cancer survivors. I felt safe and inspired, so I took my hat off….. in a cafe! I don’t want to hide it anymore, I want to own it……. greys and all.

Winning!

It’s a major step forward and will only be hindered by the horrible weather we are having!! It is too cold to sit beside a soccer pitch in the rain without a beanie, hair or no hair!!

Nearly 3 months since last round of chemo

About six weeks ago I started in the gym with a physiotherapist who specialises in breast cancer rehabilitation. The aim was to get some strength into those muscles of mine that have sat idle for months, but in a careful and safe way. I felt so weak.

For the first time this week, I noticed a real difference when I completed a set of exercises I couldn’t do a fortnight earlier. My strength is returning. I’ll be ready for the ski field by January yet!

Winning.

There are many health issues cropping up that are unexpected, annoying and embarrassing. The only thing I can do is concentrate on celebrating the small wins.

I’m not normal me (I honestly thought I would be by now). I don’t even know what normal means anymore but I am starting to come to terms with the fact I am forever changed.

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.

Getting back in the water!

I got in the car today and the song that came on Spotify was ‘Best day of my life’ by American Authors. I had the biggest smile on my face because I knew it was going to be true….. I was heading to the lagoon!!

The last swim I had was the 7th of January and mentally it has taken its toll. The water has always been where I clear my head and process life.

Boredom set in on Friday last week. For months I had been coping, gently pottering around getting little jobs done and making macrame. But suddenly….. it wasn’t enough and I was beginning to struggle with stillness.

To go from a busy (probably over committed) life, to days that have no structure or purpose, is hard. Friends and family point out, my ‘purpose’ should be to heal and recover but my mind says……surely I can multi-task?!!

So, for days I was struggling internally when it suddenly occurred to me…….. it was time to get back in the water. With the surgery wounds healed and heading into week 2 of treatment when symptoms are starting to subside, I felt strong enough and I knew that even if I just bobbed around, the salt water would soothe me.

I arranged to meet my lagoon buddy and we just did it! It was a glorious autumn morning, slightly crisp but sunny. Surf was good and the carpark was packed. The lagoon itself a turquoise haven, had an interesting current running and swell spilling in.

My anticipation and excitement was palpable. My friend kept me grounded and reminded me to take things very slowly. As we waded into the water, I could feel the tension in my body melting. Diving forward and submerging my head, I was back in my other world of fish, weed, rocks and salt.

My arms started moving automatically and I was swimming. Things felt a little bit odd and there was a tightness in my pectoral muscles stopping me from stretching to my full reach, but that didn’t matter. I made it out to the rock against the swell and I knew I was doing okay.

I managed 700m which I was quite pleased with. It was slow and my legs were like jelly but I was in the water. The further I swam, the more my muscles loosened but in the end, fatigue got the better of me. I lay on my back and floated around gazing at the sky.

Tonight I feel so much better, everything feels a little bit clearer and I am more content with where I find myself. I need to accept that it takes to time heal and enduring boredom is part of the process.

And yes….. today was one of the best days of my life. Hitting the water was like coming home.

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 the lump

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’.

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.

For more information on dense breasts click here:

https://www.breastscreen.health.wa.gov.au/Breast-screening/Dense-breasts