Chapter 11
When Treatment Is Over
What A Long Year
Finishing treatment wasn’t the relief I imagined - it was harder. For months, I’d been in constant motion, living appointment to appointment. Then suddenly, it stopped. And like a crash after a sprint, all the emotions I’d kept at bay came flooding in.
I didn’t realise how long a year could feel until I had lived every inch of it. Dates held weight - anniversaries of scans, surgeries, treatments. And with each one came a strange kind of grief. Looking back, I realise now - I was grieving.
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Grieving the body I once knew.
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Grieving the hair, the energy, the identity I lost.
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Grieving the mother and wife I had been before cancer stole time, presence, and connection.
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Grieving the person I had to become to get through it all.
And layered beneath all that grief was gratitude—for the people I met, for the care I received, for the chance to still be here.
Breast cancer was so much more than a physical battle. It was a full-body, full-heart, full-soul experience. A year-long emotional rollercoaster I could never have prepared for.
Things I Didn't Know I'd Miss
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Running. Dancing. Jumping.
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Being able to hold someone’s hand without needing the other for balance.
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Cooking dinner without help - or needing to hand over halfway.
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A bath, without worrying how I’d get out.
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Talking in a group, without awkwardness or exhaustion.
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Feeling sexy - crutches do something cruel to self-image.
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Going a whole day without needing to plan a nap.
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Sleeping through the night.
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Cleaning my house.
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Using a public toilet without a strategy.
Things I'm Thankful For
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My arms, for carrying me when my legs couldn’t.
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Virtual hugs - and real ones, too.
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My mobility scooter, my automatic car, and disabled parking bays.
Meditation. Pain medications. Internet shopping. -
Laughter.
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Video calls.
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My cleaners.
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My friends. My besties. My doctors.
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My husband. My son. My daughter.
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To be alive.
Our Year
2023 will always be the year everything changed. The year we became closer, stronger, more ourselves as a family.
It was full of dark days, but never loveless ones. We showed up for each other - through tears, through laughter, through sheer exhaustion.
It wasn’t the year we wanted.
But it became the year we needed.
And now?
Now it was time to live again.
Hello, 2024. I’d been waiting for you.
One Year On
One year ago today, I sat poised with a pen and notebook, ready to take the phone call.
It’s breast cancer.
This year, I was sitting in a restaurant with my son. Last year, I was trapped in my own head. The memories came flooding back like it was yesterday. I’d seen others mark their “cancerversaries” - and now, I had one of my own.
I hadn’t processed everything. It still felt like a blur. But this day was a moment to pause. A moment to reflect on the twelve months that changed everything. A moment to thank those who had loved me through it all. A day to say: That was a shit year... but we came through it - fighting, and smiling.
A day to celebrate life and the fact that I’m still here. Because in those days between the biopsy and that phone call, I didn’t know if I’d grow old with my husband or watch my children grow up.
And the truth is, even a year on, I still couldn’t bear to look at my boobs - let alone touch them. Time might be a healer, but it still felt just as raw.
A week later, the results from my first routine mammogram came through - the first of ten I’ll have over the next decade.
No new or old malignant tumours. In other words… all clear.
Tears, again. Of relief, of exhaustion, of something I still can’t name.
Another emotional day in a year full of them.
But this one… this one ended in gratitude.