Amy's story
My name is Amy. I’m 36, and on the 19th of May 2025 I was diagnosed with hormonedriven breast cancer — ER and PR positive, HER2 negative. That was the day it felt like my whole world crashed.
Straight away I was told I’d need eight rounds of chemotherapy: four rounds of EC and four rounds of docetaxel, and then surgery afterwards. They couldn’t tell me what surgery would look like until they saw how the chemo worked. I had two lumps — one was 56mm and one was 19mm. It might have started from a blocked milk duct I had while breastfeeding my son in 2021. I’d been checked back then and told everything was fine, so I think it developed over the year after.
So last summer was chemo. I started losing my hair after round two. I’d always had really thick, luscious hair — the kind you take for granted until it’s gone. Watching it fall out was stressful, and I needed to take back some control. So I shaved it. I got all the family round, and my youngest son, who was six at the time, helped cut it. We made it into a haircutting party. And honestly, I’ve never felt so liberated. After that I had fun with it — wigs, turbans, scarves, different looks depending on my mood. It wasn’t devastating like I thought it would be. It was actually quite fun reinventing myself.
My last chemo was on the 12th of November. I rang the bell, had a party, and then six weeks later I went straight into surgery. From day one I knew I wanted a double mastectomy with reconstruction, even though only the right breast had cancer. Whether they’d agree was another story. But I pushed. I advocated for myself. I went through psychology appointments, got everything lined up so they couldn’t really say no. And on Christmas Eve, I had a double mastectomy with reconstruction using my tummy fat. Seven hours in surgery.
I’ve got two children — one is 18 and one is six — so on Christmas Day I was watching them open presents on Facebook video call. But I don’t regret a thing. The surgeon even asked me, “Are you sure you want the left breast removed?” and I said yes. For my peace of mind, I needed both gone.
Seven weeks later I was back at work. I’d actually worked through most of chemo, but I took six weeks off after surgery. Getting back to normal things — driving, doing the school run, even putting my own pants on — felt huge. My husband had to help me with everything at first, which was a shock, but now I’m back to myself in so many ways.
The best feeling in the world is knowing the cancer is out of my body. I can’t even describe it. I still have radiotherapy to go, but everyone says it’s a breeze compared to chemo. Then hormone therapy after that. I’ve also been learning loads about vitamins, pathways, and ways to protect myself going forward. This whole journey has taught me so much about my body and how important it is to check yourself.
If I could give one piece of advice to someone newly diagnosed, it would be this: cancer isn’t as scary as the word makes it sound. Be your own advocate. Do your research. Know yourself. And don’t compare your journey to anyone else’s.
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