People like you and me bring something irreplaceable to advocacy—real, lived experience. We know what it’s like to wait for test results, navigate treatment options and deal with the emotional stress. We’re the perfect people to speak up, act and work toward positive change by raising awareness, supporting others, pushing for policy changes, fundraising for research and simply sharing our own experiences with others

Recently, a woman from Alberta, who is dealing with a breast cancer diagnosis, reached out to me on Instagram. We’d connected before and shared parts of our breast cancer experiences with each other, so it was great to hear from her again. This time, though, instead of a written update she sent me a video clip from season two of The Big C, a television series currently on Prime TV. The show stars actor Laura Linney as Cathy, a suburban mom diagnosed with Stage IV melanoma and in the scene, Cathy advises a group of young medical students on how to treat their cancer patients.

Yet, the thought of having to say that “I have cancer” out loud to my family and close friends wasn’t something I wanted to do. It made me feel like I was looking for attention. That’s because having cancer is surreal and warps reality. It was near impossible for me to wrap my head around. Sharing this information felt deeply personal and required me to be vulnerable, strong and courageous all at the same time. No easy feat. So of course, once I confided in my circle of family and friends, I wanted them to say and do the things I needed.

This was not (and sometimes still isn’t) easy. I blamed and shamed my way through surgery and treatment. As a result, I held my breast cancer diagnosis close to my heart, not really talking about it or sharing about my experiences with anyone beyond my tight circle of confidants. It wasn’t until a friend pushed me to write an article about my experience with breast cancer that I started to crack open and search for a different way to go through it.

I call Tamoxifen hot flashes: bonfires with a flood. Because when one hits you, it feels like your entire body is going up in flames right before it’s soaked in a flood of hair-flattening, body-drenching sweat. It’s horrible and exhausting, never mind totally gross. And there was nothing I wouldn’t do to avoid having one. Even giving up sugar.

I struggle with the word “survivor”. Maybe it’s because I still don’t really feel like a survivor, six years post diagnosis. The word “survivor” implies I’ve 'made it through.' Six years later, however, I feel like I am still in it. I feel tremendous guilt that I don’t feel like a survivor, when many before me (my mom and brother included) would have given anything to be in my privileged position of surviving. Please don't misunderstand —I am filled with gratitude and take note every single day, even when completing the most disliked tasks. I am grateful because I know that if I were sick, I would give anything to do this task again.

And yet, somehow, each October, breast cancer morphs into being more than a life-taking disease. It becomes a metaphorically branded pink train that clothing, makeup, skincare, jewellery, appliances, hotels, restaurants, fast food chains, and even oil and gas drill bit companies jump onto, brandishing the small pink ribbon as a statement of support.

The room shrunk and all that existed in the world was this radiologist and the screen she remained hyper-focused on. There was near silence in the room as she examined the dense breast tissue from every conceivable angle. Next, she went over and around my fully inverted nipple and through every conceivable angle, and over all the flesh of my breast under my nipple as well. “I don’t like the density of this breast at all,” she finally revealed.

Breast cancer vaccines are a buzzy topic that’s seemingly everywhere lately—from ongoing news stories about cancer research to Reddit threads and personalized Instagram posts. But what I’m most interested in knowing is if these vaccines are truly the “golden goose” every woman like me, who is dealing with a breast cancer diagnosis or the aftermath of one, is looking for: can these vaccines truly alleviate my fear by ensuring zero recurrences? To find out, I did a deep dive into the latest information and here’s what I learned.

In 2017, Dawn received her own life-changing diagnosis: triple-negative breast cancer (TNBC), an aggressive form of breast cancer. When diagnosed with this type of breast cancer, the message of hope is often lost amidst the urgency of treating an aggressive form of cancer. Being told things like, “survival rate is low, recurrence is high”, “it’s harder to treat", "chemotherapy regimen is very aggressive”, “the side effects are quite harsh”, “typically, the cancer may return in the first 5 years following treatment” can leave a person feeling helpless.