I am a metastatic breast cancer patient with liver and spine metastases. I am also a mom and a grandmother. One day, I felt a very hard pea-sized lump right under the skin. My family physician sent me for a mammogram and ultrasound. The radiologist came in and said he was concerned and brought me back the following day for a biopsy. I was diagnosed with invasive ductal carcinoma. I was petrified and scared. Since working at a cancer centre, I had every bad scenario going through my mind. I had a double mastectomy followed by four months of chemotherapy and seven weeks of radiation. It was difficult losing my hair, feeling nauseous and weak but I was determined to beat this horrible disease.

Is there anyone out there who feels like I do? Like they’ve lost a part of their memory to tamoxifen, chemotherapy and/or radiation and will never get it back? If you are like me, do you ever wonder where your memory went, like, is it on the beach in Puerto Vallarta or maybe it took a sabbatical and didn’t provide a return date?

I am 33-year-old woman from Alberta, Canada. I used to work in the oilfield until I had my son in September 2021. I used to be very independent, and an active dog mom to four dogs. I am now a proud mom of five dogs and one tiny human! I found a lump at two months postpartum but thought it was a blocked milk duct. It kept getting bigger, so I went in on February 28, 2022. I was sent to get an ultrasound and a mammogram on March 1st and 2nd. I was biopsied on March 4th, and my pathology report came back on March 21st. I was diagnosed with invasive ductal carcinoma.

Experiencing side effects from breast cancer treatment is a common occurrence for patients. While systemic chemotherapy, radiation, and targeted therapy are effective treatments for breast cancer, learning to cope and live with their unwanted or unexpected side effects can be challenging. We reached out to breast cancer patients to hear about their experiences with this.

I have advanced stage 4 Metastatic Breast Cancer (MBC). MBC is when breast cancer has spread to other parts of the body. Typically, it spreads to the bones, liver, lungs, and brain. There is currently no cure for MBC but there is treatment, and some women can live for many years.

Don’t curse me if this column sounds crazy. Or do. It’s up to you. But what I’m sharing in this column is true for me and it has changed my life for the good. Trust me, as a single woman who lives alone with her two cats, is constantly hustling to secure editorial work and hasn’t had a single decent “like” on Hinge in well over a year, I’m always looking for the positive. This is my honest-to-goodness M.O.

I was shocked to learn I had breast cancer. My previous mammograms had never showed anything. I noticed that one of my nipples was inverted which sent me to my family doctor. I was then referred to the Breast Health Clinic in Ottawa on an urgent basis where I had tests done and was informed I had advanced invasive lobular breast cancer.

Feel it on the first. Know your lemons. Check your boobies. Get in touch with them apples. I never noticed these catch phrases written on social media to inspire women to do monthly breast self-exams until after I was diagnosed. Well after too, like, when I was recovering from having had breast cancer surgery and treatment. Ironic, isn’t it? More ironic is the fact that I never really did regular breast self-examinations on my boobs and when I did, they were always half-hearted, like an afterthought.

I’ve been watching Harry & Meghan, the documentary series on Netflix. I’m not a royal’s buff or even a fan, well, except for Princess Diana (I thought she was great). No, I started watching the series for boredom’s sake, because I needed a new show. I figured that because I like docu-series and because I couldn’t watch what I really wanted to—the Kardashian’s new reality show because I don’t have Disney+—this was it. So, I clicked play and about five minutes into Episode 1, I was hooked.

This year 28,000 women in Canada will be diagnosed with breast cancer. On March 10^th, 2022, I became one of those women. Disturbingly, within a month of my diagnosis, two more of my close friends received their breast cancer diagnoses. In total, I have 15 close friends and counting who are either breast cancer survivors, or who are currently battling breast cancer. This silent epidemic seems to be growing at an extraordinary pace.