In Her Own Words: Evelyne’s Journey Through Breast Cancer and Beyond

Can you tell us how you first discovered something was wrong and how you felt at that moment? 

It was my daughter who noticed that I was often touching my breast without any real reason, since I wasn’t feeling any pain. One evening, I took the time to lie down and examine myself more carefully. 

Under my fingers, I felt a lump about the size of a marble that I could move around. Right away, I knew it didn’t belong in my body—and that it was serious. I felt an emptiness, like that sensation when you’re falling in a dream—a wave of fear—and I thought, “Oh no, this can’t be happening, not to me.” And yet my last mammogram had been barely nine months earlier.

Everything happened very fast in my mind… I told myself not to say anything and to make an appointment first thing the next morning. 

What were some of the most difficult moments of your journey through diagnosis and treatment? 

The first thought is always: How do I tell my family? My coworkers? 

The diagnosis: 
In a crowded waiting room. Tears streaming down my face without control. A woman got up and handed me a tissue. Then my husband called, and the call came through to my car, where my daughter was waiting for me. You feel like you’ve lost all control and you just want everything to move quickly. 

Before surgery: 
The lymphoscintigraphy was handled with care by the technicians—it’s such an important step. But then, an unbearable pain during the placement of the wire marker in my breast, done without anesthesia because the radiologist felt it wasn’t necessary. The pain couldn’t be relieved because they had to prepare me for the operating room. 

After surgery: 
Four months of radiotherapy, five days a week, during the COVID period. The medical staff organized things so we would be alone in the waiting room. Despite the kindness of the technicians, the first time I was placed in that room with the massive lead door closing behind me, I felt lost and completely alone. The burns and pain followed, without access to the usual care since many services were closed at that time. 

The treatment: 
Hormone therapy—this little pill that heals you and completely changes your life. I found myself in a body that was in pain, constantly tired, and nauseous. 
There was a sense of exhaustion, frustration, and useless effort that affected not just me, but everyone around me. 

Were there moments of hope, inspiration, or strength—whether from within yourself, your doctors, or others—that helped you keep going? 

Thankfully, yes. 

The support of my doctors, the gentleness of the caregivers, and the understanding from my workplace all showed me that I wasn’t alone in this fight. My surgeon was extraordinary—he reassured me, repeated things until he was sure I understood, and has continued to accompany me with empathy for five years now. My boss and a few colleagues have always been there, genuinely concerned about how I’m doing. 

But my greatest source of strength remains my family—my desire to fight comes from them. It’s thanks to them that I’ve found most of my courage. And then there are my “stars” up above, loved ones who accompany me in another way, but whose presence I still feel. 

Every day is a new victory, especially when I wake up feeling a bit less tired and manage to do something new. Even if the pain returns the next day to remind me of my limits, it’s still a victory for me. 

What did you learn about yourself throughout this experience? 

I would say… just about everything. 

I learned to be myself, to take the time to look around me, to focus on what truly matters, and to appreciate every small moment of happiness. I opened myself up to the world in a way I never had before. I learned to move beyond fear and to push my own limits. 

I discovered an inner strength I never knew I had—a real ability to fight. 

I’m doing things I never would have imagined before. I even joined the world of performing arts, and believe me, standing under the spotlight was something I once thought impossible. 
Some people think I’m in denial about my illness—maybe in some way I’m still protecting myself. 

What message would you like to share with others who may be going through a similar journey? 

Even when your world feels like it’s collapsing, trust yourself—you are far stronger than you think. There will be hard days, sometimes incredibly difficult ones. No one else truly knows what you are going through, and no one else has the same unique strength within them to keep moving forward.

Over the past five years, I’ve heard so many thoughtless comments: “You didn’t choose the right treatment center.” “Your cancer isn’t that serious.” “You didn’t lose your hair, so it can’t be that bad.” “It’s been a long time now—you should be better by now.” “You must have done something wrong to get this.” Brush all of that aside. 

Surround yourself with supportive people. The care and presence of loved ones are invaluable—they carry you, lift you back up, and motivate you when your own energy runs low.