“Are you going to freeze your eggs?” I was asked this question multiple times when I was first diagnosed with breast cancer.  Yes, I still had my monthly period and no, I wasn’t in menopause. But I was 47 years old, so the query felt out of place. When I’d remind the doctors of my age they’d sigh and say, “Oh, right. You look younger. So do you think it’s something you’ll want to do?” Umm, no. A hard no. Divorced, single and edging towards 50, starting a family by myself was not something I wanted.

It all started in July 2021. A drop of bloody nipple discharge led me down the rabbit hole of Google and WebMD which, for once, was actually reassuring - it’s usually harmless. I scheduled an appointment with my doctor the following day who shared the same sentiment – it is probably nothing, but I will refer you to a breast clinic just in case. As a 30-year-old with no family history of breast cancer and a couple of benign fibroadenomas, I wasn’t too worried, and neither was my Surgical Oncologist initially; the odds were in my favour, it was likely benign. And so I attended my ultrasound, mammogram, and biopsy appointments – each time observing how the other women in the waiting room were decades older than me.

On July 19, 2011, at the age of 33, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. With a 10-month-old son, I was still glowing with the joy of motherhood—but when a lump that I had been attributing to breastfeeding challenges refused to go away, I decided to see my doctor.