Sweet Serendipity
There is something sweet about serendipity, that moment when something unexpected happens, at just the right time, in just the right way, opening the door to that “meant to be” moment.
Two phone calls, two different days, with different intentions that focused on the same thing – my right breast and mammograms to tell a story about my body, and about my life.
May 4, 2005, I had a routine mammogram that morning and continued with my day. It was a day with possibility and as I sailed off into whatever was going to happen – would I get the job I’d interviewed for, I left that hospital (not a coincidence that the job was in a hospital) I noticed a cancer centre and said aloud as I drove past, “that’s where Wellspring is.” As if my subconscious was giving me a subtle clue as to what was awaiting me. Later that afternoon, before my children returned home from school, standing in the kitchen thinking about after school snacks, I received a phone call that changed the direction of my life. Well, in truth, it was the direction of my life, I just hadn’t known that it was. Information from my doctor that I needed a follow up mammogram and that I would be meeting with a surgeon the following week. I didn’t need the confirmation or the biopsy to tell me what I “knew”. I had breast cancer. What I learned later from all of those tests was that it was a very small tumour, which looked like crystalized salt to the radiology doctor’s eye, a cancer that had already spread to one lymph node and was fueled by the her2neu oncogene (that’s aggressive). None of this had anything to do with my hormones.
A mammogram I had in January 2026 was clear of any evidence of disease or any issues at all. All good to go. And then about 5 weeks later I developed an infection in that breast that puzzled me, and my doctor. Antibiotics cleared the infection but there is still something not quite “right” under the skin. An appointment at the hospital breast clinic and a meeting with a doctor I feel confident and comfortable with, and a thorough examination assured the doctor that this was not a new or recurring breast cancer issue. However, being thorough she requested another mammogram and an ultrasound to decide what had caused this issue. A “fat necrosis” (the death of fatty tissue caused by trauma, surgery and/or radiation) was the diagnosis after the first ultrasound in March and the appointments scheduled for the 22nd of May would hopefully reveal more.
Roll on to Thursday noon last week as I was standing in the imported cheese aisle at the grocery store and my phone rang. It was the breast clinic asking if I’d be interested in moving up the mammogram and ultrasound – they’d had a cancellation and my name had been flagged that if there was anything sooner than the 22nd my doctor would prefer to have the earliest appointment. That date if I’d like it would be May 4th. Standing in that aisle I gasped, then laughed and said, “I’ll take it” and explained to the woman who called that it was meant to be and why. I know serendipity when it comes to play.
I’m not nervous or worried about the appointment. A little apprehensive because there’s a lot of old scar tissue on that breast – she’s “been through the wringer” over the years and she’s been squeezed twice already in just a few months. It’s tender so I know I’m going to feel the pinch with this one. But the squeeze lasts only seconds and I’ve had worse experiences.
Do I think history will repeat itself? I know this about life. You can’t predict and you can’t know exactly what is on your path. In 2005 my body had told me months before the mammogram that something wasn’t “right”. I haven’t had that “message”, not even from the moment I discovered the infection. And yet, things happen that we don’t see coming and I have learned that an open mind carries me farther than sticking my head in the sand.
In the meantime, I am celebrating today. I’m 21 years old today. I call it my “re-birth” – the “do over” that cancer gave me. I’m 21 years and counting cancer free. When my final treatment had ended, 2 years after May 4, 2005, I asked my surgeon when you can start saying you are cancer free – is it when the tumour has been removed, or is it when all the treatments are over? A wise man (I miss him terribly – he retired at my 10-year mark) he told me that I can call myself whatever I want, whenever I want. About cancer or anything else. He reminded me that it’s my life. He said, “what was the point where you knew your life had changed?” – for me it was the day I had the mammogram that ultimately saved my life. When I said that he gave me a high five and a wink with a smile and said, “that’s your date.” And so, it has been ever since.
Cake for breakfast today. And a glass of prosecco after the hospital appointment to toast life. Life as it is and as it will be – whatever tomorrow brings.