Marie-Anne: 'Because it's Breast Cancer Awareness Month, I'm handing over my blog to my courageous sister Eline this October.'
This month's guest post is by Eline (45), founder of Moedig! coaching and therapy. A mother of four, Eline was diagnosed with breast cancer three years ago.
Eline: Today marks October 1—the start of Breast Cancer Awareness Month. A time when breast cancer dominates conversations, raising awareness and funds for vital research and treatments. (I accidentally typed 'publicity' there—ironic, isn't it?)
Every October, I find this month challenging. I've reflected on why:
On December 24, 2012, just 12 days after my wedding at age 42, doctors discovered a 3.5 cm mass in my left breast and four affected lymph nodes in my armpit. Breast cancer. 'We're not happy with tumors that like to travel,' my oncologist said gravely, noting the metastases and poorer prognosis. The plan? Clear your schedule for the year ahead: mastectomy and axillary lymph node dissection (removing all armpit nodes), radiation, chemotherapy, and 10 years of anti-hormonal therapy via daily pills. Plus early menopause. 'Keep your chin up,' he advised.
Not just me—my new husband (who hadn't known he was marrying 'a cat in a sack'), my four children, stepchildren, sister, parents, and friends were shattered. My kids cried as my hair fell out. I watched my husband hold it together. My sister stepped in with unwavering care.
It wasn't a battle or fight; I simply followed doctor's orders, endured patiently, and kept my head on straight. The pain was immense—not just from wounds and treatments, but from witnessing my loved ones' grief. By November 2013, treatments ended.
I'm one of those voices during Breast Cancer Awareness Month. I rarely share publicly, except with fellow survivors, my sister, and husband. Nearly three years post-diagnosis, scans are clear, but cancer lingers in my life. Daily reminders: scars, side effects, hot flashes, lymphedema, and limitations. Worse, the constant fear of recurrence. Each morning, I scan my body: 'Where's the pain today? Anything new?'
I've faced tough choices: When does back pain warrant a doctor's visit—or signal return? How to handle sudden panic? My children live with the fear of losing me. Last month, when a classmate asked my son, 'Hey Rijk, what's your biggest fear?', he broke down: 'My mom dying of cancer.'
For me, every day is October. I avoid complaining—I've rebuilt my business bigger and stronger, work full-time, raise four kids with my husband, exercise, ride horses, and cheer at every soccer game. My hair's growing back, and reconstruction turned out beautifully. I'm forever changed, but thriving as my new self.
Tomorrow, October 1, my husband and I get keys to our new home. We're leaving the house where I found the lump, stared at my amputated, bald, ill reflection, and recovered from chemo in the garden. For the first time, October 1 feels like May 1—a fresh start.
I hope one day breast cancer is just one month—or one day—then gone forever. So no child ever fears losing their mother again.
Share this post to reveal breast cancer's true, unvarnished face beyond the pink. Live like it's May 1.
