My name is Monika Page. I’m a Mother, a Wife, a Daughter and I am on a Breast Cancer Journey.

Not a sentence I thought I’d be saying in 2020. Or ever, in fact.

This photo was taken just before my diagnosis. It was my husband’s 40^th birthday, and we hosted a party at our house. I look at this photo often as, unbeknownst to me, lurking beneath my party dress was a tumour, and soon life would never be as carefree and happy as to how I felt in that photo.

Just after this party, we went to Singapore for a holiday before the busy but wonderful year that was supposed to be 2020 started. On one of the mornings we were about to go sightseeing, I was putting on suncream as I was wearing a singlet, and that’s the first time I felt my lump and the thing that would turn my life upside down.

I thought nothing of it as I was healthy, exercised every day, didn’t smoke, didn’t drink; a real party animal. I also had no cancer in my family and figured if the lump didn’t go away in a month or two, I’d maybe get it checked out. Or knowing me, probably not. Not only was I too busy going about life, but those kinds of things happen to other people, right?

When the doctor told me I had triple-negative breast cancer, my first reaction was laughter. She’d obviously confused me with another patient. It took me a minute to comprehend her words.  Very quickly, my laughter turned to hot, messy, ugly tears as I realised this was actually happening.

Soon after, I sat in Professor Chan’s waiting room. The strangest thing happened. A lady came up to me, right up close to my face, and said, ‘can I hug you?’ She hugged me and said, ‘you’re going to be alright; you’re in the best hands here.’ And then she left the room, and I felt like an angel had hugged me. It was a surreal experience.

And she, whoever she was, was right. I genuinely believe that being in Dr Willsher’s and Professor Chan’s hands means that I get to be here today to watch my son grow up. They are my superheroes.

A couple of weeks later, I started 16 weeks of chemotherapy and watched myself become a shell of the person I used to be. I stopped looking in the mirror as the person staring at me shocked me. My hilarious breast nurse Cath put up with me emailing her the most random of questions (am I supposed to sweat my body weight in sweat each night? Why do my feet feel like they are on fire, when will my eyebrows grow back – the list went on!) and kept assuring me that I would get through the dreaded day 4 of each chemo cycle, despite me telling her I couldn’t.

After chemo, I had a double mastectomy and lat dorsi flap surgery with the incredible Dr Tony Connell. It was such a seamless experience, given that Dr Connell works with Dr Willsher. Later, another six months of oral chemo. By this point, I was mentally and physically done. I kept drawing on my mantra: this too shall pass. I also kept busy, continued working full time, took up new hobbies like painting, and walked every day, even if some days I only made it to the letterbox.