{"id":98443,"date":"2026-07-10T17:30:27","date_gmt":"2026-07-10T17:30:27","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/densebreastscanada.ca\/?p=98443"},"modified":"2026-07-10T17:30:27","modified_gmt":"2026-07-10T17:30:27","slug":"jackie","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/densebreastscanada.ca\/fr\/jackie\/","title":{"rendered":"Jackie"},"content":{"rendered":"

My story does not have a happy ending, and if that is what you are hoping to find, I want to gently tell you now: this isn\u2019t that kind of story. You may choose to stop reading here, and that\u2019s okay.<\/p>\n

My story begins in 2023, at age 62, during what I believed was a routine mammogram through the Ontario Breast Screening Program. The left breast was flagged as \u201chighly suspicious of malignancy,\u201d while the right was deemed to have been completely clear. I was told my breasts were dense \u2014 dense enough to hide small masses \u2014 something that had been noted in earlier mammograms as well. Still, nothing had been detected before. Nothing had warned us.<\/p>\n

But something was<\/em> missed. Further imaging revealed cancer in both breasts<\/em>. Biopsies confirmed two different types of invasive breast carcinoma. There was no lymph node involvement, and it seemed \u2014 at least then \u2014 that the cancer was contained. I was diagnosed with triple negative breast cancer in the left breast, and hormone-responsive breast cancer in the right.<\/p>\n

Because my sister had died of invasive breast carcinoma at 66, my history strongly suggested a hereditary link. Genetic testing found nothing. I was told this didn\u2019t rule out an inherited mutation \u2014 only that current testing couldn\u2019t detect one. Still, I was deemed ineligible for annual breast MRI<\/em> under the OBSP High Risk program.<\/p>\n

When I met my surgeon, I asked immediately for a double mastectomy. She reassured me that there was no survival benefit, and that lumpectomies with sentinel node dissection would offer excellent outcomes. I trusted her expertise. I underwent bilateral lumpectomies, followed by chemotherapy and radiation \u2014 treatment that carried me through the rest of 2024, ending on December 31.<\/p>\n

Mammograms in 2025 showed nothing concerning. But triple negative breast cancer often returns around the 2\u20133-year mark.<\/p>\n

In July 2025, I had a CT thorax, an MRI of the head after a fall, and another routine mammogram \u2014 again, \u201cno new findings.\u201d I was discharged from all Oncology (surgical and medical) care. On September 16, 2025, my Radiation Oncologist told me, with warmth and confidence, \u201cYou are completely free of cancer. Congratulations. Go enjoy your life.\u201d He didn\u2019t even feel the need to examine me; the other 2 specialists had released me from their care, and the imaging seemed clear.<\/p>\n

Then came December 23, 2025. It had snowed. I went out to shovel the drive, came back inside chilled, and decided to take a bath. That\u2019s when I saw it \u2014 a lump under my left armpit. I took pictures; a friend who is a Nurse Practitioner urged me to get a biopsy immediately.<\/p>\n

In a panic, I contacted the original NP who had been involved in my care throughout 2023\/2024.\u00a0 But it was just before Christmas, and appointments were scarce. The earliest oncology appointment was nearly a month away. I couldn\u2019t wait. Because she was familiar with my history, she offered to see me in her clinic on January 9, 2 \u00bd weeks away.<\/p>\n

I spent Christmas and New Year\u2019s in quiet agony. I was obsessed.<\/p>\n

The NP was proactive and on January 9, I had a bilateral mammogram with contrast. The findings were \u201chighly suspicious for recurrent invasive mammary carcinoma and segmental DCIS.\u201d On January 13, during the biopsy, the Radiologist looked at me and said softly, \u201cI\u2019m very sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n

On January 19, a CT thorax revealed lung lesions. The cancer had spread. It was now metastatic \u2014 terminal \u2014 and my care shifted to palliative.<\/p>\n

I began first-line chemotherapy.<\/p>\n

On April 27, a repeat CT showed further spread. I was about to retire two months later on June 30th<\/sup> at age 65.<\/p>\n

First-line chemo failed. I began second-line treatment.<\/p>\n

If things continue as they are, and if I\u2019m very <\/em>lucky, I may follow the same path my sister walked before me \u2014 passing at 66 years and 4 months \u2014 despite the insistence that there was \u201cno genetic component.\u201d She created a blueprint and I\u2019m walking in her footsteps.\u00a0 Whether accurate or not, it feels as though her death taught nothing, and mine may teach nothing too.<\/p>\n

Facing death is profoundly lonely. Even with support systems, even with friends who show up every day in every way they can, even with family who love deeply \u2014 though their grief may come out as anger, frustration, fear, or helplessness and how those are manifested \u2014 the truth is that this path is walked alone. Love surrounds you, but the journey is solitary.<\/p>\n

There are good days and bad days. There is too much time to think \u2014 about cancer, about dying, about what becomes of your home, your car, your (now heavily taxed) savings, and how to say goodbye to your children without breaking their hearts, though you know heartbreak is unavoidable.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m not sharing my story for pity. I don\u2019t want that. I\u2019m sharing it because I want to leave you with this:<\/p>\n