Angela, a primary school teacher and mum of 2, was 38 when she was diagnosed with triple negative breast cancer. She shares her diagnosis and treatment, and how wearing a funny pink wig on the school run spiralled into a successful fundraising campaign.
When did you first notice something might be wrong?
I'm very lucky. I happened to be lying in bed and caught it. I wasn't in the habit of checking my breasts, but the lump was right up against my chest wall, which probably made it easier for me to feel. I used to get a little bit of pain, too, like a tiny electric shock in my breast now and again.
I waited a few weeks before going to my GP – I was young, fit and healthy, and I was hoping it would disappear by itself. When I did go, she referred me straight to the breast care team. I had a scan less than a week later.
They thought it would just be hormonal, nothing to worry about given my age. But the first scan alarm them, and I was sent for a that same day.
Then they took a , put a clip in, and did another mammogram. Even more tests followed. I texted my husband to reassure him, but with all the scans and tests he realised something was up and came to the hospital.
The doctor explained they give lumps numbers: 1 and 2 are cancerous, 4 and 5 aren't. I was a 3. She said if the biopsy came back okay, I’d get a letter. If it was cancerous, an appointment.
On day 2 of our summer holiday, I got a call saying I had an appointment. We knew it was bad news.
When did you get your diagnosis?
The day after our holiday, I learned it was triple negative breast cancer, which is rare and aggressive. The lump was small and they’d try to remove it.
It was hard, but I thought: “I know what's wrong and what I need to do. Let's just crack on.” My husband found it tougher; he felt helpless.
They explained that it could be linked to the BRCA gene, which is often inherited. Given my family history of cancer, I agreed to have gene testing. If the test came back positive, I’d need to have both breasts removed and a hysterectomy after my chemo.
Waiting for the results was so tough. I wasn't scared for myself, but more that my 2 small children would grow up without a mum, and that I might pass it on.
I was in a supermarket when they rang with the results. It was negative. That was the first time I cried throughout the whole process, but they were happy tears. I was thinking, “thank God that we don't have to worry about the children.”
How did you tell your children?
We didn't tell them that day because we needed to get our heads around it first. I didn't want to do it if I was going to start crying. So we told them at teatime the day after.
I didn't really know how to start up the conversation. I remember sitting there feeling very awkward. They were oblivious, just eating tea and telling us about school.
Thankfully, my husband stepped in. He said, “We've got some sad news about mum. But we don't want you to worry, and the doctors are going to fix her.” He took the lead and explained everything.
My daughter was too young at that point to understand what was going on. But my son asked a lot of questions because we’d lost my mum the year before. He was like, “is it the same as Nana's cancer? And are you going to die like Nana did?” Just very honest questions.
We answered them as truthfully as we could, while staying very positive. If you have children and are faced with the same situation, I recommend that you’re open and honest with them from the start. We all helped each other through it.
How did you get the idea for your campaign?
After more scans and appointments, I started chemotherapy. The side effects are awful: a lot of sickness, constipation, and fatigue. But with all the extra medicine alongside it, I could manage it quite well.
The one they couldn't help with much was the hair loss. About 3 or 4 weeks in, my hair started coming out in clumps. It was making a mess around the house, so my husband and I decided to shave my head.
When I put a wig on to collect the children from school, they looked at me very strangely. They knew it wasn't my hair. When we got home, I took the wig off to show them and explain. My diagnosis really hit my daughter then. She started to cry and said: “You don't look like my mum anymore.”
She'd got a pink Poppy Troll wig on the dining room table she'd been dressing up in, so I put it on to try making her laugh. To show her, “Look, I’m still mum. I can still be silly and play.” It cheered her up.
The next part started as a joke. My son was at that age where they start getting embarrassed. I said, “I'll wear this on the school run tomorrow, Max.” He laughed and called my bluff: "Go on then."
So, one dreary October morning, I set off on the school run as Poppy Troll. I did it to make things easier for the kids, to make it fun. But the other children and parents loved it. I got compliments, laughs, and more importantly, it started a conversation. People were genuinely shocked that a 38-year-old could get breast cancer.
Children are very blunt and honest. They asked my son the same questions he was asking me, like “Is she going to die? Why is she wearing a wig?” He could answer the questions because we'd had discussions about it at home. It gave him strength to talk about it and explain it. He knew what was going on.
How did the campaign grow?
Everybody seemed to enjoy that I was wearing this silly troll wig. I decided: every morning I was fit enough to take the kids to school, I’d wear a wacky wig. Not only that, but I’d get people to donate money for me to make a fool of myself. My husband had the idea of creating a Facebook page called Wig-on-her - a bit of a pun because I'm from Wigan.
Wearing the wigs helped me, too. It helped me drag myself out of bed on days I wanted to hide away from the world. It got people talking, got them checking their boobs and had started to raise money. It gave me a purpose.
I started of wearing my own wigs, but then people started sending me wigs in the post along with their donations. I think people were seeing how far they could push me. I had to wear a few full costumes.
We just went with whatever people were willing to donate and send us. Now, we’ve raised around £15,000 for Breast Cancer Now. I didn't have to run a marathon or anything - just had to look daft!
Why motivates you to keep raising money?
Outcomes for people with triple negative breast cancer are improving, but we still need better treatments for this horrible disease. Treatments that don't make you nauseous, constipated, lose your hair, lose your breasts, or make you too ill to play with your children.
I also want everyone to know they need to check themselves, especially younger people. So many of my generation have never even considered it. They think of it as an older person's thing and don’t think they’re at risk.
I had 2 friends who checked themselves when they saw what I was doing and the resources I was sharing. They were diagnosed within the same 12 months. They caught it early enough that neither of them had to go through what I did.
So, I’m determined to keep fundraising. Just before my mastectomy, I decided to organise a ‘Wig Walk’. It gave me something to focus on during my mastectomy recovery and radiotherapy. The weekend before the walk, on my 39th birthday, I was told there was no evidence of disease in my body.
Strange that, 10 months earlier, I was convinced I wouldn't make it to 39. Now, though, I'm gradually getting my fitness back and looking towards the next fundraising event. Check out the Wig-on-her Facebook page for more.
Will you help us develop more powerful, kinder treatments?
With your help, we can fund research into new treatments to help people like Angela. And if you’ve been inspired to start fundraising yourself, take a look at our fundraising ideas page.