My cancer journey began when I noticed my right breast leaking. I honestly chalked it up to a hormone imbalance and thought nothing of it until six months later, when the leaking had not subsided, and my breast had become very itchy. During this time, I had also noticed how tired and fatigued I was every day. I found myself napping a lot and needing that nap to just make it through the day. I decided that I better make a doctor’s appointment to see what was going on with my body.

Firstly, I want to say that I am not sharing my story to encourage anyone to quit treatment. Please don’t! This is risky. I’m really rolling the dice here. I am choosing my quality of life over longevity. That’s not for everyone. I had been unable to tolerate any of the aromatase inhibitors (AI; a type of hormonal therapy used to lower estrogen levels to slow or stop cancer growth), so I felt I had little choice but to pursue other options.

I’m a Tamoxifen fail. I quit taking the drug just shy of my five-year prescription’s halfway mark. The estrogen-blocking pill fried my short-term memory within the first 14 days and then, tormented me daily with its version of Jay-Z’s “99 Problems.” And lucky me. I experienced every single one of them.

I don’t need to tell you what was happening between 2019 and 2023. By May of 2022, I’d received four COVID-19 vaccinations and felt confident to attend a musical production with my niece. We were front row centre and seemed to be the only patrons with masks, soon discarded I must confess. When I found myself coughing a few days later I assumed it was COVID that I’d picked up in the theatre and left it to my presumed immunity to deal with.

Today, I want to dive into the role genomics has played in my journey. As an MD specialized in genomics, this journey has been an eye-opener regarding the clinical implementation of genomics and the accessibility of genomic profiling for real patients in British Columbia, Canada, and beyond. There have been good surprises and also situations where I've directly faced barriers and limitations surrounding the clinical use and implementation of genomics.

I don’t know what it was like for you but for me, saying “I have breast cancer” out loud felt fake, like I was lying. Every time the words came out of my mouth I wanted to hide. Rationally, I knew my diagnosis was real, but the horrible emotions that preceded and followed each proclamation filled me with shame. And the voice inside my head was relentless. It just kept goading me on.

I was unprepared for the results received on a brilliant April afternoon. Looking back, I may have wondered at being the last patient in the waiting room, or the offer of a cup of tea as I was shown a seat. The lump was an invasive ductal carcinoma – I had breast cancer.

As I tried to process my diagnosis and what it meant for me, along with the future I’d envisioned for myself, I went into research mode. It’s my comfort zone. I’m curious by nature and profession (being a writer and all), and having information, knowing everything that I need to know, makes me feel in control. So, I dug deep, Googled like a crazed person, and asked my doctors hundreds of questions while I tried as best as I could to prepare myself for the unknown that was to come. Here’s what I learned about being diagnosed with early-stage breast cancer.

I hadn't been feeling well in December of 2021. My family physician was not taking me seriously, so my husband intervened. He insisted on a full work up with all of the necessary tests. I don't know where I would be if my husband had not stepped in when he did. Tests were ordered and a mammogram was scheduled but not until March of 2022.

I had mild tingling breast pain for about five years. I am not a "run to the doctor" kind of person as I never wanted to be a burden on the health care system. I have always been sporty and active and was motivated to maintain my outdoorsy lifestyle. Even my GP congratulated me on doing all the right things. The pain was getting worse; however, my doctor assured me that both a mammogram and an ultrasound confirmed I did not have cancer. I was speechless because I knew something was wrong.