Breast cancer survivor Rebecca Benstead on how she fought the disease

You’ve seen the billboards lit up around Melbourne, with survivors of breast cancer bravely showing their scars. This is one empowering story behind those Baker’s Delight ads, deemed too much for Facebook.

There is a Japanese phrase that says, we have three faces. The first, is the one we show to the world. Second, the face we show to our family and close friends, and the third, is a face we never show to anyone but is said to be the truest reflection of who we are. The same reasoning can be used to describe my cancer journey.

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First, the Rebecca before being diagnosed with breast cancer.

I met my husband, Aaron, when I was 15. Meeting him was like completing a puzzle, everything came together and I found exactly what I needed at the exact time I needed it.

As we grew, completed high school, supported one another through the challenges evolving from teenagers to adults, we found our relationship was vastly different to those around us.

Rebecca and her husband Aaron "before cancer".

It was a forever relationship and no matter what life threw at us, we could count on each other.

We developed a relationship based on trust, honest communication and fortitude. It became a motto for us, for the way we wanted to live our lives, an expression of the values we each had.

We married in 2010, and in October 2011, our son Patrick was born. I was 25.

From the time I was 25 to the time I was 30 was some of my toughest issues. I endured a lot of stress due to the toxicity of those around me, and I was forced to make some hard decisions and walk away from people who had hurt me.

Rebecca with her son Patrick and husband Aaron.

It was difficult to explain the reasons why, because it wasn’t received well, but I learned that I don’t owe anyone an explanation for taking care of myself.

Second, the Rebecca diagnosed with and treated for breast cancer.

In March 2017, after a random stretch at the couch and a how-do-you-do feel of my once perky bosoms, I found a ping pong ball-sized lump on my left side. It was impossible to miss and I couldn’t not be scared of it, nor could I explain it away or avoid seeing my doctor.

At the time, in my brain and Aaron’s, “It’s cancer” shone in bright neon lights but instead we said, “It’ll be OK”.

I still feel Aaron’s hand on my back as we sat patiently waiting for our GP to read the results of my biopsy. I remember how his hand began to violently shake and our world began to dissipate as breast cancer was confirmed. At that very moment, the Rebecca I had been was gone.

Son Patrick started prep when Rebecca began her battle.

This anxious, second guesser needed to invest her time, something that was now her most precious commodity, in being steadfastly decisive and fiercely competitive as the battle of life and death commenced.

I decided I was going to fight cancer and keep myself sane by continuing to work, laugh, with wit and sarcasm, have a healthy playlist for every mood I was about to feel and a new style of headscarves and statement necklaces.

My main motivation for battling cancer in such a way was that I had Patrick to consider. My son had started prep, and stability for him was important to me. The best and worst thing about having a young child when you have a serious illness is that children, regardless of you being sick, crave your attention, still need your help with homework, and enjoy your company and a cuddle when they’re sad.

During the testing moments of treatment which would range from stealing my husband’s razor to shave off any remnants of my hair, sitting at the bottom of the shower head in hands wondering when the nausea would end or having quite colourful arguments with my breast about how it had “let me down”, I was reminded that my son still needed me to be a mum.

So, I’d pick myself up off the floor, deciding that my breast had served its purpose, it had fed my child, and I’d still be left with one that could entice my husband (Me: *laughing*, Husband: *face palm*), and I would continue to do my best, as a mother, as a wife and as Rebecca, not caring if I lost my breast.

Rebecca endured 20-plus doses of chemotherapy during her treatment.

Over the next 18 months, I endured 20-plus doses of chemotherapy which included a specific drug dubbed “the red devil”, 20-plus daily radiation treatments and two surgeries, including a single mastectomy.

Throughout my treatment, I found great comfort in hearing facts, stories, and other information in a real way. Sure I “Dr Googled”, but Breast Cancer Network Australia (BCNA) was always on hand to provide me with information and support. I took my time getting involved in conferences, seminars and other events.

If I’m being honest, after having just about every doctor and nurse inspect you and ask “Are you OK? How are you coping?” during treatment I barely had enough want or desire to talk to the people I love let alone unleash my journey on strangers. “Journey”, I used to hate that word, it seemed so... tragic.

After a while though, I realised that cancer is a journey, which quite frankly never ends, so sorry for anyone reading this who is just beginning theirs.

Third, the Rebecca now.

Once treatment was over, and I was officially in remission, I was faced with many questions. Some questions were easily answered. Am I still married? Yes, happily so. Am I still working? Yes. Do I regret not having time off? No, at the time it was exactly the normality I craved and needed to keep me sane. Other questions, like how the hell am I moving on from having cancer? This was not easy to answer, and if I am being honest, I still don’t have an answer.

For the longest time I felt disconnected from my body. I could see my arms, legs, eyes and that I controlled my body parts when they moved, but never felt truly connected to them. When I looked in the mirror, my face was still swollen from fluid intake, my hair was starting to grow back, I knew I was Rebecca, but I didn’t recognise my face.

The treatment took its toll.

My body took its time, I worked through joint pain, nausea, fatigue and fear and got myself back in the gym and did some weight training. I had done some research and found cryotherapy. For anyone wondering, it’s a chamber at minus 150 degrees for three minutes, and I started with weekly sessions and as my body responded positively and my joint pain reduced, I scaled back.

It’s a life journey, and for all of us, that journey is different. After finding and speaking with other women in my community who had either been through breast cancer, were battling breast cancer or were supporting someone through their journey, I came to appreciate the value and support of our local communities. Larger communities such as BCNA initiate contact with people affected with breast cancer very early on, but what I appreciated was the lack of pressure I felt to get involved, to share my story and to participate socially with other warriors who are undergoing treatment or are in remission.

Patrick joined Rebecca on the shoot.

It wasn’t until I attended a seminar for young women affected by breast cancer that I truly appreciated the organisation as a large community of support.

I decided to take part in this year’s Pink Bun campaign because I wanted to get involved in bringing attention to breast cancer, the warriors who battle it and to praise the support that our breast friends and BCNA provide us. In a small way, I wanted to give back to the community I was now a part of. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect but I knew I wanted my son Patrick to be involved. Being just five when I was diagnosed, he had experienced only the negatives that cancer had to offer.

Now seven, he deserved a positive experience which celebrated his mother’s survival, and it was the most memorable day for us.

Ten cancer survivors went topless for the campaign.

Funds raised from the sale will go to BCNA.

Together with my “breast friend” Erin, her children Billie and Jack, we had our hair and make-up done, sat and talked with other warriors and their supporters. The teams from BCNA and Baker’s Delight were upbeat and welcoming which made for lots of laughter on set. Going into the shoot I was aware that some shots would be “pink” and some would capture our scars, yep, you guessed it, a topless shot! Using Baker’s Delight products — mine specifically the hot dog roll and of course the delicious pink bun — to cover my trustworthy breast, I proudly had my scar photographed.

There may be judgment, controversy and/or comments that the photos are confronting. The truth is cancer is confronting. My husband was confronted with potentially being a single parent at the age of 30, my son was confronted with seeing his mum battle a disease he was yet to understand, and I was confronted with possibly not seeing my son finish primary school.

The shoot was a celebration of “breast friends”. Rebecca and Patrick with and her best friend Erin.

Lindsey Kennedy, one of the faces of the campaign, outside a billboard in Melbourne. Picture: Tony Gough

Sure my body isn’t what it was when I was teenager, doesn’t look like it did in my 20s, but right now my body looks like a woman who survived breast cancer, and I was delighted to join with BCNA and Baker’s Delight to prove that support comes in all shapes and sizes.

What I really love about this year’s campaign is that it is a celebration of Breast Friends, the friends who have supported you during your breast cancer journey.

My best friend Erin and I were always close, but during my diagnosis and treatment a truer friendship developed.

Breast cancer had affected us at the same time but in different ways, she had lost her mother-in-law to the disease. We had found we could be more honest with our feelings and fears because we could each relate to what the other was going through.

Now, we are more than friends, we are family.

Although my treatment is over, I’m heading back to the surgery table later this year for a breast reconstruction and I know I will, again, call on the support of BCNA and my breast supporters, and for that I am grateful.