meet julie

Julie's Story...

“Tomorrow might just be

a little better.”

Back in October 2021, I found a lump in my left breast and saw my GP immediately. Within days, I had a biopsy and received that life-changing call ~ “you have cancer.” It was a Friday, and I was sitting at a braai when the news came in. I had to wait until Monday for answers, and since my husband was away, I went in with a dear friend by my side.
 
Things moved quickly. A mastectomy was scheduled, and I met with a plastic surgeon about reconstruction. The day of the surgery was terrifying! Being prepped, marked, surrounded by people, and trying to stay calm was all super overwhelming. The anaesthetist’s kindness helped ease my fear, and as my surgeon walked in, I took a deep breath and said, “Let’s do this.”
 
My breast was removed and reconstructed, and most of the lymph nodes they removed were cancerous. Once I had healed, I began chemotherapy: three rounds of FEC (including the dreaded “Red Devil”) followed by three of Docetaxel, and then radiation.
 
The first three chemo sessions were manageable, I lost my hair, my immune system weakened, but I coped. Then came the Docetaxel. I had a severe allergic reaction and ended up extremely ill. It was one of the darkest moments in my journey, I couldn’t eat, speak, or move. I told myself, “Tomorrow will be better,” and held onto the dream of taking my family to Thailand and flying in a helicopter.
 
Despite another reaction during round two, I pushed through. The doctors decided to stop chemo and move me to radiation, which, thankfully, was much easier! And shortly after that I was told I was in remission.
 
But I knew something wasn’t right.
 
Despite my insistence, follow-up scans showed nothing, until a PET scan revealed the cancer had spread to my sternum. I was put on oral medication, bone drips, hormone blockers, and regular injections. I settled into a new rhythm.
 
In March 2025, during a routine scan, I was told the cancer had now moved into my tissue. A new trial became available, and after a whirlwind of tests and a heartbreaking family loss, I was finally accepted. This time, I had a chemo port inserted (best decision ever!!) and began treatment again. My hair has fallen out for the second time, but I know it’ll grow back.
 
These days, I’m focusing on helping my youngest through matric and dreaming of local travel. I don’t know how long I’ll be on treatment, but I’ve learned to take it one day at a time, to breathe through the anxiety, and to trust that tomorrow might just be a little better.

Comments (2)

  • Karen Reply

    Hi Julie. We don’t know each other but having lost a few friends, and my brother, to cancer. I can imagine that your life is tough, to say the least. I admire you, and all cancer sufferers, who are open about their illness, treatment, worries, and whatever else is going on in their lives. I only wish my lost friends, and especially my brother, had been more open about things as their suffering didn’t come out into the open until it was too late to say, and perhaps do, some of the little things that would mean a lot, not only to the one who was ill, but also friends and family who are left behind. It’s hard losing a loved one but the reality of months, and perhaps years, of pain, suffering, and uncertainty, is difficult for anyone to cope with. I hope more people, like yourself, don’t ‘hide’ away, but come out and be candid so that their loved ones can feel part of their lives and perhaps support them in some small way. Keep fighting, Julie, keep your chin up and know that even strangers, such as myself, send loving thoughts to you and your family and friends. Love and best wishes, from Karen (U.K.)

    July 22, 2025 at 10:48 am
    • Liz Reply

      Hello Karen,
      Thank you so much for your beautiful message! Your words are deeply moving and filled with such compassion, we’re so sorry to hear about the loss of your brother and your dear friends.

      Your reflections are a powerful reminder of how important it is to share our stories, even when it feels difficult. Julie’s openness is an act of courage, and hearing how it’s resonated with you means so much to both her and I.

      Thank you for your kindness, your empathy, and for reminding us all of the power of being seen and supported, even by a stranger across the world!

      Sending hugs,
      Liz and the THIS IS ME Team

      July 22, 2025 at 1:24 pm

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