Talking openly about breasts, lumps, bodies, and cancer isn’t always easy — but it’s important. In my case, it’s personal. I grew up surrounded by a thick family history of breast cancer and other cancers, so keeping an eye on my own body has always been a priority… even when I was young and didn’t quite realise how much it mattered.
Where It Started
I found my first lump at just 18 years old. At that age, you feel invincible. I didn’t worry, didn’t overthink, didn’t fully understand what it could mean. It was removed, tested, and life moved on.
Honestly, I barely thought about it again — except on cold days when the scar aches a little and I’m reminded of that time.
Fast Forward 12 Years…
Two babies, a husband, a home, businesses, responsibilities, life — and then, another lump.
I remember finding it in the shower. I wasn’t doing a proper self-check; I don’t even know if I was really looking. But it was there.
And I just knew.
To make matters worse, it was Good Friday, so the entire long weekend stretched ahead of me. I kept poking and prodding at it, making sure I wasn’t imagining things. My husband was done with my overthinking and ordered me straight to the doctor first thing Tuesday morning.
The Whirlwind Begins
My GP didn’t hesitate — it was straight off for scans, tests, pokes, ultrasounds, the works.
When I came back for the results, the referral to a specialist had already been written, sent, and booked. For that same afternoon.
And that’s when it hit me.
I thought, *“F#k… this must be serious.”
But do you know what my biggest stress was that day?
Not the lump.
Not the referral.
Not the unknown.
It was that I wasn’t going to make school pickup — something I had never missed.
Motherhood really does rewire your brain.
The Specialist
He examined me and confirmed what I already suspected:
He was concerned.
I asked when he wanted to remove it, expecting weeks or months.
His answer?
“Let’s do it in three days.”
Oh. That soon.
Three days later, the tiny pea-sized lump was removed and sent for testing. And then came the waiting — the longest part.
The Results
Atypical hyperplasia.
Precancerous cells.
Not cancer — but a warning sign. A reminder. A wake-up call.
And honestly? A massive relief.
This diagnosis means I’m now closely monitored, regularly checked, and always keeping an eye (and hand) on any changes. It’s not something I fear — it’s something I stay on top of.
Why I’m Sharing This
Not for sympathy.
Not for attention.
Not for worry.
I’m sharing this because:
This could happen to anyone.
And so many people — men and women — ignore things.
We brush off symptoms.
We assume we’re imagining it.
We say, “I’ll check it later.”
We wait because life is busy, kids need us, work is overwhelming, or appointments feel annoying.
But early detection saves lives.
Listening to your body saves lives.
Speaking up saves lives.
Please — Check Yourself
Check your breasts.
Check your body.
Know what’s normal for you.
And if something doesn’t feel right?
Say something. Immediately.
You are never “bothering” a doctor.
You are never “overreacting.”
You are never “too young.”
Cancer does not care how old you are, how busy you are, or what day of the week it is.
Make checking yourself a habit — one that could quite literally save your life.