Jean’s Story
Her long journey of gratitude, humour, and unwavering vigilance
My story began on the last Sunday in November 2006. A long time ago now, but somehow, I remember it like yesterday.
I was busy getting ready to go out to my daughter’s 18th birthday party, fiddling with my hair in a tiny mirror in the bathroom. Suddenly, I noticed a shadow on my left breast, so moved to the bedroom to have a proper look in a bigger mirror. Yes – there certainly was a shadow. More than that, actually. It was a dimple on the right-hand side of my left breast, not insignificant, about 3cm long. How could I have missed this?
My mind immediately went to the mammogram referral, the one pinned to the fridge, the one I’d been meaning to action for weeks now. I quickly put it to the back of my mind and went on to enjoy celebrating my youngest daughter with all her friends and family.
I booked the mammogram for two days later. I hadn’t even told my family that I was going – no point in worrying them unnecessarily. I called my husband from the radiology practice as soon as they confirmed that the dimple was of concern. He rushed to my side and together we managed to get through the rest of the afternoon – a whirlwind of scans, ultrasounds and biopsies. We went home to tell our three children, then aged 20, 18 and nearly 16. All the time being positive and reassuring them that I would be fine.
The GP called me two days later, confirming my worst nightmare – I had breast cancer. Deep down, I already knew, but it was still a shock to hear it. I was 49 years old, had never smoked, had breastfed three healthy babies and had no family history. Surely this shouldn’t have happened to me. But breast cancer doesn’t discriminate. It did happen to me.
If you could ever call anyone with breast cancer lucky, then that would be me.
Further testing confirmed that the cancer hadn’t spread to the lymph nodes, so treatment would consist of a lumpectomy, chemotherapy and radiotherapy. The cancer was HER+, so I was eligible to be treated with a relatively new drug that had only been approved on the PBS a few months before. If I had been diagnosed only a year earlier, I would have had to pay upward of $60,000 for the privilege. Again, how lucky was I?
What I wouldn’t describe as lucky was the referral to an amazing team of treating clinicians. I was truly blessed by my surgeon, medical oncologist and radiation oncologist. I couldn’t have asked for better care or treatment. My surgery and follow up chemotherapy were located at the Mount Hospital at the time, prior to the Breast Cancer Research Centre being relocated to Hollywood Hospital. I needed two lumpectomies to make sure that the margins were big enough, prior to starting the chemotherapy, every three weeks for six treatments and every three weeks for another treatment, which lasted for nearly a year. The time between my surgery and chemotherapy seemed to drag! I couldn’t wait to get started so that it would all be finished! I’ve never been known for my patience!
Soon enough, my first chemotherapy treatment was over. My oncologist said that the first one would be the worst, which was a relief. The first few days were pretty ordinary, but after one week I was back to my normal self. The only thing that was different was that my normal craving for chocolate had been replaced by an overwhelming craving for hot chips on the first day that I felt back to normal. This continued for the length of my treatment and even today, hot chips remain my favourite comfort food!
It was important for me to live as normal a life as possible in between treatments. I had an extremely supportive workplace, so was able to continue with my work as a senior manager at the Autism Association of WA. I realised that if I organised my chemotherapy for a Wednesday, my worst days would be on the weekend, so that it had minimal impact on my working week. I laugh about that now, but it makes a great story.
I had become optimistic that I wouldn’t lose my hair as I headed toward my second round of chemotherapy. That was until the morning I woke up to find my pillow covered in hair, which had begun falling out in handfuls. I had thick, wavy hair, so there was a lot to lose. A few days later, it was evident that something drastic had to happen – the remaining hair needed to go! My 16-year-old son was keen to support me with this, so out came the clippers and the cape and suddenly I was bald!! Humour was always important in my journey – so we thought it would be funny to send a photo of my new look to my sister in Scotland. Only she didn’t find it funny at all. It just upset her even more that she couldn’t be by my side as I went through this process. It was a reminder for me that my diagnosis sometimes impacted other folk more than it did me. A similar scenario played out when my oldest daughter made a joke about my appearance to her friend, who was shocked by her lighthearted comment. However, it was important to our family that we continue with the normal banter that was so much a part of our everyday life.
I met some beautiful people at my chemotherapy sessions. Having visited the wig library the day before my second treatment, I was loving my new look hairdo! Then one of the other ladies said that she had bought a wig that would look even better on me. She wasn’t using it, so I readily accepted her offer. And she was so right! I can’t tell you how many compliments I had when I wore it! I loved it! I also loved pulling it off to allow some air around my head as soon as I got into my car to travel home from work each day!
After weeks of blood tests and treatments it was time to rest for a month before the seven weeks of daily radiation treatment. I made my appointments for 7:30am each morning, so that I could still be in time for starting work nearby at my normal time of 8:30am. It worked well, but I wasn’t prepared for the radiation burns. I’d had an expectation that the radiation would be easier than the chemotherapy, but it wasn’t really the case. The breast cancer nurses cared for me beautifully, and soon the burns were healed, and the radiation was over! The wig came off and we managed a quick trip to Bali in between the three weekly treatments. I think the Balinese ladies must have been delusional when they offered to plait my then 1cm long hair! By the end of 2007, the treatment was finished, and I started on my maintenance program. Regular checks, mammograms and maintenance medication continued for the next nine years, and I was discharged the month of my 60th birthday. What a great birthday present!
Life went on and every day I was thankful that I could live it to the full. Fantastic holidays and eventually retirement! Time for more travel in WA during COVID and caravan trips after. Last year, when I was 67, I decided that I would like to have my breasts reconstructed. I had a deep scar on my left breast and my right breast was bigger, making it a bit difficult for me to find well-fitting clothing.
I was happy with the result of my surgery, but my follow up appointment brought some news I hadn’t expected. They had found a tiny bit of cancer in the tissue removed from the left breast. So tiny that it would never have been detected on a mammogram or ultrasound. So tiny that it may have taken a few years before it started to grow. But it was there, nonetheless.
So… my next little journey began.
My case was discussed at a multidisciplinary meeting where it was decided that no further invasive treatment was required, but my annual monitoring would now include an ultrasound as well as a mammogram, and I would be seen annually by my breast surgeon.
I was also followed up by the genetics team, who had done some testing in the early years following my diagnosis. Given that my maternal aunt had ovarian cancer, I had been advised to have a hysterectomy to further reduce my risk of a similar cancer. At that time, there were only two identified breast cancer genes, BRACA 1 and BRACA 2. Thankfully, I didn’t have either. However, there are now at least another ten genes that may show that there is a hereditary component. I’m currently waiting to see if I am eligible for further genetic testing, the results of which will be so important for my two beautiful daughters, both of whom are now in their 30’s. They will be eligible for regular mammograms from the age of 40.
There are a couple of comments that my oncologist made to me during my treatment that will always be with me. The first was about all that awful facial hair that had suddenly appeared after chemotherapy. “Just wax it off a few times and it will go”, my oncologist said. Well – we all know that doesn’t work! The second was a bit more serious. I asked when I could say that I was cured. She replied, “Never”. I hadn’t expected that answer, but I accepted it. And how right she was. I definitely didn’t expect that the dreaded breast cancer would raise its ugly head again. But it did. Once again, how lucky am I that they found it. It’s a great reminder that vigilance is the key.
I think about breast cancer every single day. I count my blessings that I am a survivor. I count my blessings that I live in Perth, where the care and treatment are second to none. I count my blessings that I have a wonderful family and beautiful friends who make my life so rich.
– Jean
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