When Jill turned 50, breast cancer was the last thing on her mind. Living in Halifax, Nova Scotia, she was enjoying life as a newly trained paralegal, wife, mother of three, and grandmother. Breast cancer did not run in her family, and she had no reason to think that her life was about to change.

“Am I going to die?”

That was the first question I asked when I was told I had breast cancer.

Many people face this difficult question after a diagnosis, which can bring fear, uncertainty, and overwhelm. It can also feel, at times, as if the future you had imagined is being taken from you.

I was just 27 years old, newly engaged and planning my wedding, when I was diagnosed with HER2+ Stage 2 breast cancer. Overnight, my world shifted from picking out flowers and venues to chemotherapy appointments, surgery dates, and a treatment plan that included chemo, surgery, and radiation.

There was a total of three oncologists from different areas of care that I would meet along the way. Then there is my plastic surgeon! The beginnings of a joke. Three oncologists and a plastic surgeon go into a bar... If you have a good joke for this scenario, I would love to hear it. But this is the thought that keeps popping into my head every time I am told about my surgical team.

As my towel brushed past the bottom of my right breast, I couldn’t help noticing that something didn’t feel right. Broken glass? It felt like broken glass. Is that possible? Could I have broken my boob? Can you break a boob? My mind began to swirl toward real questions then to ones that were clearly insane and made no sense... and yet, I asked them out loud... to myself... in the mirror.