“My mum passed away from triple negative breast cancer in January 2024. Since then, I’ve been on a mission to raise awareness in her honour.”
Alana’s mum was in the shower when she found a lump. She booked a GP appointment straight away. She did regular checks because her GP had shown her how, so she knew something wasn’t right.
There’s a pattern of cancer in Alana’s family across generations. “It skips a generation for my family, my nan’s mum, and then my mum.” Her mum’s diagnosis revealed a gene variant linked to her cancer. Alana has been tested and does not have the variant.
Understanding Triple Negative Breast Cancer
When Alana’s mum was diagnosed, they had never heard of triple negative breast cancer (TNBC). “We didn’t know much about it. From what the doctors told us and from what we read, it’s fast growing, and because it isn’t hormone-based, treatment can be more difficult.”
TNBC accounts for around 10–15% of all breast cancers. The cancer cells test negative for oestrogen and progesterone receptors and for HER2. Because of this, some hormone and HER2-targeted therapies used in other breast cancers are not effective for TNBC. It can be fast growing and is seen more often in younger women and people with certain gene variants such as BRCA.
Regular self-breast checks can help detect changes sooner, such as lumps, discharge, pain, or swollen lymph nodes. Knowing your normal from a young age and seeing your GP if something doesn’t feel right are key steps for early detection.
Learning about the condition did not make the reality easier, but it helped Alana’s family feel a little more prepared for what was ahead.
Finding light in a tough situation
Surgery removed the cancer from her mum’s milk ducts, and the margins were clear at the time. She stayed vigilant with breast checks and, only a few months later, found more lumps.
“The test came back saying the cancer had returned in her breast tissues, and the doctor said it was best for her to have a double mastectomy. This was right before COVID.”
Even in difficult times, the family found ways to bring light into the situation. “When Mum had her double mastectomy, we threw her a surprise ‘Bye Bye Boobies’ party. It was during COVID so it was small, but it was beautiful. We had a piñata and everything was boob-shaped.”
Her friends rallied to make it happen. That consistent support helped hold the family together through the years ahead.
How TNBC reshaped everyday life
Doctors prepared the family for how TNBC can behave. “They told us it can have a pattern. For my mum it was almost to a T, something would happen every three years.”
The first year brought the double mastectomy. Three years later, the cancer returned in remaining breast tissues. More surgery followed. Then it appeared in her back in the fatty muscle, and she had to restart chemotherapy and radiotherapy.
Cancer treatment changed home life in quiet ways. To reduce infection risk, Alana’s mum used a separate bathroom and did her washing apart from everyone else. For Alana, those small routines made the illness feel present in every corner, daily reminders that life was different now.
Over time, those routines became rituals of care. “Mum was protective. She didn’t want us to worry. She held a lot in until it mattered, then she sat us down and explained things to us. Over time, we made it a habit to check in on each other. I called her every day on my way home from work.”
Seven years of showing up
For seven years, appointments and procedures threaded through everyday life. Alana sat in waiting rooms, learned the rhythm of scans and treatments, and kept track of dates that mattered.
Making sense of medical information became part of the routine. “We were told not to Google, but of course it’s hard not to. We relied on the doctors to help clarify things.” Alana learned the language of her mum’s care, noting medication names, what each one did, and what to watch for. “What is this called? What does it do? How will we know it’s helping?” Understanding gave her a small kind of control when so much was out of her hands.
Caring for someone you love also means caring for yourself so you can keep showing up tomorrow. “Everyone needs their own release. My partner has the gym. My brother is very active. I play with my dog. I’m a social person so I kept busy with family and friends.”
She recognises her mum’s coping style in her own. “Mum distracted herself with work. Working so many jobs meant she didn’t have time to sit and think about it. I’m in hospitality now. It’s hands-on and busy, and that’s been a way to cope for me too.”
Navigating the uncertainty of TNBC as a carer
Alana watched her mum’s health, energy and body change and felt grief arrive in small pieces. She carried strength and hope in the same hands. She also held onto the pattern doctors had mentioned. Naming the three-year rhythm gave shape to uncertainty, a way to breathe and plan the next hill, even while knowing the road could still turn without warning.
There were complications along the way, including C. diff (Clostridioides difficile), a serious bowel infection that’s more likely when the immune system is low during chemotherapy and radiotherapy.
In the last three years, cancer reached her mum’s lung and liver. “Towards the end, when she was lying down, you could see the lumps all over her body. That was really tough and heartbreaking for us.”
Caring meant holding two truths at once: showing up with love every day, and learning to live with what you cannot control.
Navigating an immense loss with consistent support
When the disease progressed despite everything, January 2024 brought the loss they had braced for but could never truly be ready to meet.
During those final weeks, support continued to surround them. “My friends dropped food at the hospital and at home. We had mountains of meals in the freezer for weeks. Nan has macular degeneration and can’t drive, so my friends helped me and my brother by driving her to see my mum. And my aunt was there through it all.”
Social workers were a steady presence too. “They offered medical certificates so we could take time off from work. They checked in every day, and the doctors did too. One doctor just sat with us in silence. I think about that a lot. I’m grateful.”
As Alana described, her bosses were nothing but supportive. “I was off for five weeks in December and January, the busiest time in hospitality. They completely understood why I needed the time off and they let me focus on my mum and my family during this challenging time.”
Losing her mum at 25, means navigating an immense loss while taking on responsibility for everything, suddenly, at once. “After mum passed, I was not thinking straight. No one is, really. I was in my own world taking in what just had happened.”
Once again, the social workers were there. “They gave me their mobile number, a bag of information, and a warm blanket to take home. They told us about free counselling services and gave us a checklist of practical steps, things like the Death Notification Service and ATO. That was incredibly helpful in such a difficult time.”
Passing on mum’s legacy
At the time of this interview, it had been four months since Alana’s mum passed. Alana had begun to name what she wants others to take from her mum’s legacy.
“I’m doing this for my mum,” she says simply. Build awareness and connection. “Mum found her lump because she knew her body. I’m inspired to do the same and pass this knowledge on to everyone I know. I’m always pushing my friends and everyone I meet to check their breasts and chests and see the GP when something doesn’t feel right.”
“And if you are like me that cancer runs in my family for generations, knowing your inherited cancer risk is an important way to protect your family’s future.”
Protecting the strength it takes to care
She wants fellow carers to feel seen. “Have your own outlet. Ask the questions you need. Take the help that’s offered. You can love someone fiercely and still need time for yourself.
“It doesn’t always have to be leaning on friends if that’s not your style. You still need a way to let things out. A big thing for me is movement. A good walk, a run, a swim. Cold water helps too. That first shock is grounding. It settles my nervous system, brings me into the present, takes me out of the loop of day-to-day routines and medical appointments, and back into my own skin.”
Alana’s story is about love that keeps showing up, in care, in grief, and in the effort to protect others. Her mum’s legacy continues each time someone takes a moment to know their risk and know their normal.