Karen's story
My breast cancer journey started in June last year. I found a lump in my breast and, I did what we all do - I Googled it. It was close to my menstrual cycle, so I thought, right… I’ll have that first and then see if it’s still there. But it was still there. So, I went to my GP.
There's a history of breast cancer in my family. I lost my mum to breast cancer, and she was young as well. Because of that, they referred me straight to the Breast Institute on a fast track.
I went in and had my first ever mammogram, biopsy, all of that. It’s weird because you’re being moved through all these tests, and part of you is thinking, this is just what they do. But then you start to feel it in your stomach — like… hang on.
And then you have that agonising wait. Two weeks. It was horrendous. Sleepless nights. Just lying there with your mind going everywhere. I’ve got two young sons, so it wasn’t even just panic for myself — it was them.
On the 16th of July, I got the results: I had breast cancer. It was very small — they were surprised I’d found it. The plan was surgery, radiotherapy and hormone tablets. It’s scary, but when someone gives you a plan, you hold onto that.
I had surgery on the 6th of August. They removed the cancer and lifted both breasts so they matched. I had very large boobs, so they said I didn’t need a mastectomy — there was “lots to work with.” I felt lucky in that sense. Surgery felt like: I just have to go to sleep and wake up. The surgeon does the rest.
But because I’m under 50, they wanted additional oncotype test to see if I’d benefit from chemotherapy. Which meant another wait. That test gets sent off to America and comes back with a score. Anything under 16, we could have had a conversation. Mine came back at 33%.
So that was that. I was having chemo.
Chemotherapy was the worst part for me. The physical side effects, yes — but also losing my hair. That was massive. It sounds like “just hair” until it’s yours and it’s part of who you are. I’ve always had really thick, long, dark, curly hair. I could do everything with it. It felt like part of my identity, and watching it go… that was the hardest bit.
But I made it through. I finished chemo three weeks ago. So this Thursday would have been my next cycle — but I’m all done — and I’m so excited just saying that out loud.
I’ve still got radiotherapy to do, but it’s only nine sessions, so hopefully it won’t be too bad. And then hormone therapy for five years because my cancer was oestrogen receptive. So… we’ll see how that goes.
It’s been a whirlwind. It’s not something I wanted to do, obviously. And emotionally, it’s dragged me right back to my mum — because she should still be here. But things have changed since she went through it, and I can see that with my own eyes. There were tests and options I had that just weren’t available to her. Even my mammogram — the dye, the imaging — things like that didn’t exist back then. That’s why research is so important. It changes what happens to women.
If someone came to me tomorrow and said, “I’ve just been diagnosed — what do I need to know?” I’d say this:
Take it one step at a time. Don’t fixate on the big picture. Because it’s overwhelming. When they told me my treatment plan would take a year, I nearly hit the floor. I remember thinking, I haven’t got a year of my life to give you — I’ve got kids in school, I’ve got work. But you shrink it down. Surgery. Do that. Then see what comes next. One step at a time.
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