Dina’s story

Then in 2024, it came back. This time I needed a mastectomy. I’m 75 now, and I tried three different types of hormonal therapy again, but they were all so awful that I stopped. If I were younger, maybe I would have pushed through, but at this age, I thought, no — enough.

I’ve always been a very hardworking person. Even though I’m retired, I still do academic writing, PhD examinations, all sorts of things. I walk every day, even in the rain, and I do yoga twice a week — proper sessions, an hour and a half each. I want to enjoy as much life as I can.

But I don’t pretend to be positive all the time. I’m not. Half the time I’m tired, aching, dealing with pains and side effects. Travel insurance goes up massively. And sometimes I just don’t want to think about any of it. If I’m exhausted, I sit down with a book or watch rubbish television. I do listen to the radio too — I enjoy that. I never used to wear makeup, but I do now, just a little bit. It helps me feel good about myself. Maybe that’s age, maybe it’s cancer, maybe it’s both.

I don’t want to be defined as a “breast cancer survivor.” I’ve been many things in my life — a nurse for over 40 years, an intensive care sister, a mother, an academic. My identity isn’t just this illness. But it is part of my life, and I live with the consequences every day.

I’m still here. I’m still working in my own way. I’m still walking, still doing yoga, still putting on a bit of makeup when I feel like it. And I’m still trying to enjoy life, even with the aches, the pains, and the tired afternoons on the sofa. That’s where I am now — doing what I can, when I can, and trying not to think too much about the rest.