By Mary Judge
I had breast cancer.
There, I said it.
Many of you already knew. But if you didn’t—well, now you do. Maybe you saw the post about the hockey player who visited the cancer centre on my first day of chemo. Or the photos of my friend Bruce shaving his head in solidarity. Or maybe you caught my son’s band dressed in pink, dedicating their event to breast cancer awareness, and put two and two together.
Either way, I’m saying it out loud now—because it’s time we talk more openly about lobular breast cancer and breast cancer awareness.
Why Now?
I wasn’t in denial. And I wasn’t hiding anything. I was diagnosed in May 2024, and the whirlwind that followed— lumpectomy surgery, followed by chemo, mastectomy surgery, and then radiation—kept me focused on getting through it all. As I began sharing my experiences with family and friends, I realized it was not only educational for them but also therapeutic for me.
But as October—Breast Cancer Awareness Month—came and went, I felt a deeper urge to share my story. Not just because it’s mine, but because it could be yours. Or your sister’s. Or your friend’s.
Here’s a stat we can’t ignore:
1 in 8 women in Canada will be diagnosed with breast cancer in their lifetime.
It is the most common cancer in women. It happens.
It happened to me.
And believe me—I was blindsided.
My diagnosis? Invasive lobular carcinoma.
It showed up on a routine mammogram. Had I relied on self-exams alone, I never would’ve found it. That, in itself, is a huge wake-up call. My mother was a breast cancer survivor so I have been getting routine mammograms since I turned 50.
So, to every woman reading this, please be proactive about your health.
To the men, encourage the women in your lives to stay vigilant.
Breast cancer doesn’t wait for October to show up. Awareness matters every day.
A New Screening Milestone in Ontario
Did you know that as of October 8, 2024, women aged 40 to 74 in Ontario (the Province I live in) can now self-refer for a mammogram—no doctor’s requisition needed?
That’s an incredible step forward in making breast screening more accessible. But even if you’re outside that range, you’re not off the hook. Know your options. Ask questions. Be your own advocate.
My Chemo Experience: Humour in the Hardest Moments
I finished chemotherapy with six rounds under my belt. After that came a double mastectomy and radiation treatments. It was a journey, no doubt. But from the very beginning, I made a conscious choice:
I would face this with humour.
Chemo hit hard. So did the emotional rollercoaster. But humour gave me back some control.
When my hair started falling out after the first treatment, I didn’t wait. I asked my husband, Bill, to shave it. Then I threw a “tattoo party” with my girlfriends. We added cartoon eyes, mouths, and Breast Cancer awareness ribbons and sayings to my bald head. We laughed till we cried. It was a hit with everyone, especially the nurses in the chemo ward.
I didn’t hide under a wig. I embraced my baldness—literally a shining moment in an otherwise heavy time. It was my badge of honour.
Bringing People In: Laughter and Awareness
Bruce, my friend, shaved his head too. At church, he told me he was jealous of how I pulled off the look. That led to a whole photoshoot and more laughter than I’d had in months. My husband also shaved his head.
After chemo, I started a “poll”: When will Mary’s hair grow back?
No stakes, no prizes—just a way to connect and sneak in a few fundraising dollars for the Canadian Cancer Society.
And yes—people got competitive.
These playful moments weren’t just distractions. They became bridges. People asked more. Talked more. Cared more. Laughter opened doors that fear had closed.
From Lobular Breast Cancer, to a Mastectomy to Flat and Fierce
After chemo, I had a double mastectomy. And I chose not to get reconstruction. I decided to go flat—and I’ve never looked back.
Bill and I always joked that between the two of us, we had one good body. Now that I don’t have breasts, I tell him he’s the only “boob” in the family—and he wears the title proudly.
I even had a T-shirt made that says: “I lost my boob, not my sense of humour.”
And yes, I had some temporary tattoos left over. A couple of cartoon eyes made their way onto my chest. Let’s just say it was a hit with my surgeon at my follow-up appointment.
After mastectomy surgery came radiation treatments for five days/week for five weeks. Because I have a painful neurological condition, radiation was a challenge for me. Somehow, I made it through, although there weren’t many things to laugh about during that time.
If I Seemed “Too Cheerful”…
There were moments I wondered:
Do people think I’m not taking this seriously enough? Should I be acting sicker?
But here’s the thing: You don’t owe anyone a performance of pain.
For me, being positive wasn’t denial—it was survival.
Humour made it easier to breathe. Easier to connect. Easier to cope.
And if that meant I smiled through appointments or made jokes during chemo—so be it. It helped me. And maybe, just maybe, it helped others, too.
Final Thoughts: Awareness Saves Lives
Here’s the big takeaway: Breast Cancer Awareness saves lives.
I was lucky. I had access to care. I had support. I had a mammogram.
But not everyone does. And not everyone knows what to look for—especially with lobular breast cancer, which is sneakier than most.
So if my story moves you, here’s what I ask:
- Book that mammogram.
- Talk about breast cancer—there are so many different types, including mine, lobular.
- Check in on your friends.
- Donate if you can.
- Don’t wait.
I had breast cancer. I faced it head-on—with strength, humor, and a circle of support I’ll never forget.
Thanks for walking this journey with me.
Now go take care of yourself.
About Mary Judge
I am a 67-year-old wife of 37 years to my husband Bill. We have one son, Alex, who is married to his beautiful wife, Breigh-Ann. We are very much looking forward to our first grandchild in August.
I spent my career as an administrative assistant for many years, working in the corporate world in marketing, mostly within the soft drink industry. When my employer gave me the opportunity to pursue other interests, I started my own Virtual Assistant business and have operated solo for more than 20 years.
When I was diagnosed with breast cancer in May, 2024, I had just started to downsize my business and was looking forward to retirement and travelling with my husband. Unfortunately, the diagnoses caused us to cancel two planned international trips.
I’m very involved in volunteering at our local church. I enjoy knitting, crocheting, gardening, travelling, and most importantly planning for my new job title of Grandma!
Here are Ellyn’s thoughts on Mary’s story.
#BreastCancerAwareness #LobularBreastCancer #ChemoJourney #StayPositive #FlatAndFierce #MammogramOntario #CancerHumour #OneInEight
