Recently, I’ve found myself sitting on the other side of the appointments with my mum, Helena.
Not as a radiation therapist.
Just as a daughter.
With Mum’s permission, I wanted to share a little of her journey — because if it encourages even one person to self-check, follow up a change, or trust their instincts, then it’s worth sharing.
Firstly, let’s go back about 12 months.
Before Mum’s diagnosis, we’d already had another cancer conversation in our family — this time with Dad.
I still remember the phone call from Dad telling me it was prostate cancer. Thankfully, his situation ended up being one of watchful observation rather than immediate treatment or surgery.
I was incredibly grateful for both my knowledge and the people I could lean on for guidance. It was always Dad’s decision to make, but I felt lucky to connect him with professionals I trusted so he could make a fully informed choice. Ultimately, that decision led to ongoing monitoring rather than unnecessary surgery.
By the time we’d wrapped our heads around that and settled into a new normal… it was Mum’s turn.
And honestly, it hit differently.
Straight away, I knew breast cancer would mean surgery and treatment, and suddenly we were back sitting in appointment rooms again — only this time, it was Mum.
Not long after, Mum received the phone call we had all been quietly bracing for as a family.
“It’s cancer.”
We already had a feeling, but hearing it confirmed still felt surreal.
Stage 1/2. Around 2cm. Early.
That was really all Mum could take in during that call — and honestly, it was enough for that moment.
As someone who works in radiation therapy, I hear these conversations every day. I know the terminology, the treatment plans and the pathways. People often say healthcare workers “know too much,” but sometimes the knowledge also helps you know when not to panic.
What I wasn’t prepared for was the balance of trying to think as both a healthcare worker and a daughter at the same time.
Part of me understood everything clinically, but another part of me was learning so much more about what patients and families go through before they even arrive in our department — the appointments, the waiting, the information overload, the fear and the emotional weight of it all.
In a strange way, I’m grateful for the perspective because it’s given me an even deeper understanding of the patient experience.
But at the same time… I hated that we were there at all, because it was my mum.
One thing Mum did incredibly well from the beginning was wanting to understand everything. She asked questions, took notes and wanted to know the process. Even with some understanding of it all, I watched her glaze over at times trying to absorb the amount of information being thrown at her.
After appointments, we’d unpack everything together so she felt informed, comfortable and supported.
I’m also really proud of both of my parents for paying attention to their bodies and not ignoring signs when something didn’t feel right.
Dad followed up changes early. Mum continued self-checking even after a clear mammogram only 6 months earlier.
Because of that, both cancers were caught early — and that has made such a huge difference to their treatment pathways and outcomes.
Thankfully, so much of Mum’s journey has been in her favour.
We’re incredibly lucky to have such an excellent surgeon locally, which meant Mum could have both her surgery and radiation treatment close to home. Not having to travel made such a huge difference physically and emotionally.
The surgery went really well.
No lymph nodes involved.
Localised.
Everything pointing in the right direction.
Phew.
Then came radiation therapy.
Because everything was caught early, Mum only needed a short 5-fraction course of treatment using the breath hold technique. Watching her through treatment made me so proud — she held every breath perfectly, steady as a rock. Just like her really… and honestly, I’d expect nothing less.
People asked if it felt strange being on the other side or if I wanted to jump in and treat her myself. But honestly… I didn’t.
I knew the team looking after her would do an amazing job, and for once I didn’t want to be the radiation therapist in the room. I just wanted to sit beside Mum as her daughter.
(Although I was still quietly watching everything like a hawk 😅)
And of course, Mum did treatment the only acceptable way possible — in comfort and style. A fresh TTTTC robe every day. We’ll share more about that side of the experience another time, because this story deserves to be about Mum first.
Now Mum has moved into the next stage — hormone therapy — which is actually the part she feels most nervous about because of the side effects. Cancer treatment doesn’t always end with surgery or radiation. There’s often another layer people don’t see.
But if there’s one thing I’ve learnt watching Mum through all of this, it’s how resilient people can be. She faced every appointment, every decision and every treatment with strength and determination.
So this is your reminder 🤍
Book the scans.
Do the self-checks.
Follow up the changes.
Trust yourself.
And hug your mum a little tighter.
Dee X
