By January 2021, the mass had grown a bit and I was having physical symptoms: I felt more tired, I was dizzy in the morning. My boyfriend insisted that I call my doctor back. This was during the big lockdown and curfew, when you couldn’t travel between regions.

I spoke to doctor’s secretary, who thought my case did not seem too urgent: she asked me to call back in a few months, because my doctor was overbooked. The secretary suggested that I should go to the hospital emergency room if I was too worried.

In June, the size of the mass had tripled from October. My partner got angry. He said he would call the doctor himself if I was still refused an appointment.

When I finally called back, I learned that my doctor was leaving for a holiday. However, in the meantime my symptoms were getting worse: I felt as if I had electric shocks near the lump and my nipple.

Finally, on August 26, 2021, I had an appointment with my family doctor in Gaspé. Deep down I had the feeling that it was cancer. My father had had esophageal cancer, my paternal grandmother had had breast cancer, as had three of her sisters and some of their daughters, but my grandmother’s had recurred as bone cancer. I told my doctor about my family history and she said that when cancers are on the father’s side, they rarely make it to the granddaughter. She wasn’t concerned, but just to reassure me she ordered a mammogram and a breast ultrasound, as well as tests for thyroid and diabetes.

She transferred my file to a specialized clinic in Quebec City. But I took a long time for me to make my appointment because my dog had died in the meantime.

I finally had my appointments on September 21. My mother flew to Quebec City from the Gaspé to keep me company. She couldn’t be in the room because of COVID rules, but I knew she was in the hospital.

The radiologist wanted to do a biopsy as well, but since that meant I couldn’t do any more physical activity for the rest of the week, I had to postpone it until a few days later. I’m a massage therapist, and I had a lot of clients that week and I didn’t want to cancel them all.

I asked the radiologist: “Do you think it’s serious?” Because she couldn’t really say much, she only replied: “There’s a 70% chance it’s serious.” My mother wanted to be positive and held on to the remaining 30%.

It took 21 days to get the results; 21 days during which I clung to the hope that it was something else. I was constantly on walking on eggshells about the results and I slept barely two or three hours a night. I was taking medication to help me relax, but I continued to work during this period.

After this long wait, my family doctor called me on October 12 to tell me. The diagnosis was clear: I had Stage 2, Grade 2 invasive ductal carcinoma.

I met with my surgical oncologist and an internist, both of them women, on October 14. They were happy that my doctor had already told me the news. They explained to me that when they have to break the news themselves, most patients are so shocked that they can no longer pay attention to the explanations of the treatment plan.

I was scheduled for eight chemotherapy sessions, a mastectomy (bilateral or partial), radiation, and possibly more chemotherapy, depending on the aggressiveness of the disease.

I had to have a second biopsy, because we wanted to know if my lymph nodes were affected. Finally, the results came in: a new lump had appeared in the meantime. This meant that another biopsy had to be done, as well as a bone scan and an MRI.

My chemotherapy started on November 7; I had appointments every two weeks. It wasn’t like a tsunami hit me in the face; I felt very ready. I was eager for the treatments to start and for the tumours to be removed. To me, the disease didn’t belong to me. It was as if it wasn’t “my” cancer and I wanted to cast it out of me!

I continued to give my clients massages on a part-time basis during my chemotherapy treatments, as I was self-employed and it was financially difficult to stop. I also continued to exercise. Before my illness I was doing CrossFit five times a week. I still managed to keep it up two or three times, and I’m very proud of that when I look back on it today.  

My surgery was supposed to be on March 21, but I tested positive for COVID just before the appointment. So it had to be postponed for another six weeks. So in April I had a bilateral mastectomy, with reconstruction using temporary tissue expanders. I had also tested positive for the BRCA2 gene (a person who inherits certain mutations in a BRCA2 gene has a higher risk of getting breast and certain other cancers).

My sentinel lymph nodes were removed during a second surgery, as some had been taken out during the first surgery for testing, and they were positive.

I then started my 15 radiation treatments, which went very well. In my case, I found them easier than the chemotherapy. I rediscovered the Bella that I used to be. My skin didn’t burn and stayed looking great. Being a therapist by trade, I very diligently did all the exercises prescribed to me. I also applied my cream three times a day.

The next step for me is to have my permanent breasts fitted and the expanders removed. Since radiation therapy damages the tissue, this has to wait a whole nine months.

I am artificially menopausal because in my case it is one more weapon to prevent a recurrence. This was my first experience with hormone therapy, and the first month was more difficult than any other treatment I had undergone; I thought I was having a cancer recurrence. The oncologist explained to me that my female hormones were fighting the drugs. This takes a lot of energy out of the body. However, my energy returned in the second month.

I will have to be kept menopausal in this way for at least five years, and my oncologist recommends five to 10 years. I would like to have a child one day, so after the first five years I’ll see what I’ll do. Normally, fertility treatments would have been done before starting chemotherapy, but this was not possible in my case because the lump had doubled in size in a few weeks. It would have been too risky for my health. With all the treatments that were done, I now have the same risk of developing cancer as a “normal” person.

I haven’t felt the need to see a social worker or psychologist because I talk openly to everyone about my illness and my journey. I have shared my day-to-day life on my social networks. I think that talking about it openly, continuing to work, and exercising, has helped me. Because I took care of my father when he had throat cancer, I knew a little bit about what I was getting into and I was hopeful that it would be okay for me.

My clients have responded well. Most of them have continued to come to see me to support me. I know my clients, their daily lives; they are devoted to me and vice-versa.

My friends fundraised to help me because just as I received my diagnosis, my boyfriend and I had made an offer on a house. And my boyfriend has been amazing. I couldn’t have had anyone better by my side. He came with me to all my appointments. He is a soldier and explained the situation to his commanders, who were very understanding. He will not be deployed until 2023 so he can be here for me. When things got tough, he encouraged me, told me I was beautiful. I think it made our relationship stronger.

My mother has also been very much there for me and came to my home on the weekends following my treatments.

I wanted to tell my story because no one anywhere around me believed that I could possibly have cancer. Even my family doctor! Everyone touched my lump even before my doctor did: my cousins, my aunts. Everyone told me that cancer was unlikely. When you’re young, you’re not always taken seriously.

I also want to show that it is possible to have a “normal” life, before and after treatment. I have carried on with my life, and that has made the difference for me. It has helped me stay strong.