I remember the day vividly: as a time of solidarity with a group of friends, colleagues and survivors. It was a great day, the streets filled with incredible energy and glorious pink accessories, sunglasses, feather boas and countless women, and a few brave men, all joined in a moment of support. I proudly wore that first T-shirt not knowing that 15 years later, I would be more than a supporter—I would also be a survivor of breast cancer.

It all started in July 2021. A drop of bloody nipple discharge led me down the rabbit hole of Google and WebMD which, for once, was actually reassuring - it’s usually harmless. I scheduled an appointment with my doctor the following day who shared the same sentiment – it is probably nothing, but I will refer you to a breast clinic just in case. As a 30-year-old with no family history of breast cancer and a couple of benign fibroadenomas, I wasn’t too worried, and neither was my Surgical Oncologist initially; the odds were in my favour, it was likely benign. And so I attended my ultrasound, mammogram, and biopsy appointments – each time observing how the other women in the waiting room were decades older than me.