Hi, I’m Janice
I’m Irish. I’m a daughter, a sister, a wife, a mother, an aunty and a friend. I work as a professor in a business school. I moved to Canada with my husband and two boys in 2019. Before that, I lived in France for 15 years, where I successfully integrated the French obsession with good food and wine. I love reading and live music, good conversations and walks by the water. I keep myself relatively fit, and enjoy hiking, jogging and Pilates. I am a people person and a fierce feminist, an underdog champion and a frustrated actress. At 46, I’m still a party girl, who savors good times with family and friends but adores a good book and some solid me-time.
Breast cancer slapped me rudely in the face in August 2023. It all began with sharp-stabbing pains in my right breast (not a usual breast cancer symptom) in January of that year. I visited my GP in March. No family history of breast cancer, healthy and relatively ‘young’ (early 40s) and no discernable lump or bumps or other symptoms to speak of. I was sent for an ultra-sound (April) and was told I had many cysts (in both breasts), and it was probably the cysts, and hormones, which explained the stabbing pains. I still felt something wasn’t right and pushed my GP to send me for a mammogram. Thankfully, she did (June). And then, I was called back for a repeat performance. July 21st was the encore – the breast cancer clinic wanted me to come in for a biopsy. On August 4th, I got a call from a secretary – she was calling to schedule my lumpectomy (I had never heard the word before). I told her she must have the wrong number – I was still waiting on my biopsy results. She fumbled, and mumbled, and then I realized – there was no mistake. My GP just hadn’t gotten the message to me yet.
The day after my 12th wedding anniversary, in late August, I had surgery to remove the tumor. The results 6 weeks later confirmed that I had stage 2 breast cancer with lymph node involvement. I started chemotherapy in October. I would have to live with a port in my arm for 4 months. I quickly realized how much I loved ‘normal’ showers (i.e. without a plastic-coated arm). My hair fell out and vain me suffered – I bought countless hats and colored scarfs. I experienced joint pain and active me felt the frustration of bodily fatigue. I felt grumpy and didn’t want to see people – my boys learned to leave me be. Kind colleagues left family meals on the front porch and helped us out with soccer runs. WhatsApp conversations and lengthy emails with my sisters and friends kept me buoyant. Sleepless nights were the norm. In February, I had radiation therapy and in March I started taking Tamoxifen. It’s been a hell of a bumpy ride.
Nearly two years later, and I am enjoying life again. But I am not the same person as before.
Here are my top 12 breast cancer take-aways
1. Breast cancer is complicated. There are different types and stages, varying treatments and diverse experiences. There is more to it than family history. We don’t know all there is to know. But we know that racialized women suffer disproportionately
2. Some women want to understand – the science, the disease, the stats, the treatment – while others simply don’t want to know: they stick their head in the sand and ask few questions. We ALL get on with it – because we have to.
3. Dense makes a difference. I didn’t know what breast density meant but I know now. I am category D and this has nothing to do with having ‘lumpy breasts’ (although I have those too!)
4. People are amazing (in good & bad ways). Good intentions can wound as well as lift.
5. Introversion and introspection are under-rated. Thanks for reaching out, and letting me know you are thinking of me, but thanks also for saying that I don’t have to respond. Sometimes I just need to sit with my thoughts and not feel the pressure to keep you updated.
6. Music and laughter are powerful meds. More powerful than I could ever imagine. 90s indie rock music accompanied me on many a tearful parkway walk. Smart, sarky and sometimes dark-humoured text messages from loved ones kept me sane
7. Walking rocks! No matter how bad you feel, putting one foot in front of the other can yield an enormous endorphin rush. In the park, close to trees, by the river. Music blaring in my ears – I walked out my frustrations.
8. I am more than my hair! (but it is great when it comes back!!)
9. Self-advocacy sucks. Everyone tells you to do it. But some days you are just too bloody tired.
10. Checkups are triggering. This may not be your first rodeo with a recovering cancer patient Nurse, and you may have a checklist to get through, but know that every question you reel off reminds me of what I have been through
11. There’s a post-cancer patient script that we are expected to follow – an imperative to find the silver lining and to calm others fears with soothing ‘yes, my last scan was all clear’ or ‘now I appreciate life more’ responses. This script is exhausting.
12. Feeling anger is ok. Anger can be used for good.
I have a hard time with labels. I am not a cancer survivor. I am a cancer-killjoy.