Bay ladies strut their stuff at The Proudly Pink Fashion Show kicking off Breast Cancer Awareness Month in October. Models include cancer survivors and young girls. Three ladies tell Annemarie Quill about their journey from cancer ward to catwalk.
Katy McCullough
I was 30 and living in the UK with my partner David. We were both from Tauranga. I was showering when I first noticed something. I panicked immediately and thought the worst, but people tried to tell me it would be okay.
It took three months to see a specialist to have a biopsy. Within a week I had the diagnosis and was booked in for surgery. My partner had the awful job of phoning our family in New Zealand. I told my mum and that was the worst thing, being so far apart.
The night of the diagnosis my partner stayed in to keep phoning to find out what the best options for us were. But I had a pair of tickets to see Robbie Williams in concert with a friend. We had booked them ages ago. We went to the concert. I was still in a state of shock. For some moments I forgot and then panic would overtake me. It was a very emotional night and those songs still have huge meaning for me.
I had the surgery in England but flew back to Auckland to have chemo and radiation therapy.
Mum came up and stayed with me when she could or we came down to Tauranga. It was a huge culture shock. I had gone from being carefree, partying on our extended OE, to being back in New Zealand, in a strange city, throwing up and losing my hair.
I am lucky I didn't have a full breast removed. One breast might be a different shape but you cannot notice. I do have a scar on my cleavage. I catch people looking sometimes but it doesn't bother me.
The hardest thing for us was that we hadn't had our family yet. After chemo, they start you on a drug, tamoxifen. They recommended I stay on it for five years. But it can also trigger early menopause, and you can't get pregnant on it.
We had been spending so much time with family in Tauranga that in 2005 we made the move back here. We were still young. We wanted to be parents.
Should I take the drug and make sure I am clear or do I take the risk of stopping it to have children? It was a fairly easy decision to make as we wanted children so much.
Anna was born in August 2006, followed by Ivan in August 2008.
We have had BRCA gene testing and I am not a carrier, which means that I cannot have passed it on to the kids.
For a while, I went through a stage of being really anxious. Every headache was a brain tumour and every spot, skin cancer. But since having the kids I am more relaxed. I focus on having fun as a family.
Joelene Walker
In 2008 I was 31 years old, working as a technician in Tauranga Hospital. I was living in Maungatapu with my partner Jason and two girls, Kori and McKenzie, who at that time were at Maungatapu Primary and Tauranga Intermediate schools.
Out of the blue I noticed a lump in my breast. I pushed it to the back of my mind. I didn't want to think about it really and just thought it would go away.
Months later, I plucked up the courage to ask my friend at the hospital to see if she could feel the lump then we got a colleague to examine me. He said I should go to see my GP.
By that time I was 32. Everyone kept telling me it would be nothing. I was with Jason at my GP. When he said you have breast cancer, I just burst into tears. My next thought was: Am I going to die?
Everyone was incredibly shocked because of my age. I think I dealt a lot with other people's shock. I told my daughters as best I could in simple terms. Their schools were amazing.
I had the tumour and some lymph nodes removed. I had six months of chemotherapy. I worked right through it, despite awful side-effects. If I felt ill I just went home early, but most of the time I battled on.
My long hair started falling out 12 days after my first round of treatment. Every time I showered it would just fall out. It was really distressing - lots of tears in the shower. A hairdresser friend cut it short for me, then Jason shaved it off. Once it was all off, I felt fine. I just had to get used to the stares.
I still take medication and have regular check-ups. I found out that my aunt was diagnosed with breast cancer at 28. She got tested for the BRCA One Gene, which tests whether you are a carrier. She is. I have just had tests and am awaiting the results. If it comes back positive we will test the girls. It is an agonising wait, I find out in a month.
The Breast Cancer Support Services have been awesome throughout my journey. Through them I have met great friends. One of them, Kate Perrott, is a police officer and was one of the youngest women diagnosed in Tauranga at 28. She did the inaugural Proudly Pink show last year, I haven't done anything like this before, but so many people have helped me on my journey so I want to give something back.
I now try to get out and do much as I can. I am involved in women's rugby and social soccer. My soccer team is called the Rangataua Patriots. I am doing Muay Thai at Rogues kick-boxing gym.
On an emotional level I have learned life is too short to hold grudges. I am a more positive person. I have learned to appreciate life, family and friends - and just how precious that life is.
Felicia (Fliss) Clark
In June 2010 I asked to have a mammogram after becoming concerned about my well-being.
The mammogram detected micro calcifications and I was sent for a biopsy. What felt like an almost year-long whitewater rafting ride began: you'd just catch your breath at an eddy, and then whoosh, away you are swept again.
A week after the biopsy I met my surgeon, Peter Chin.
He told me the extent of the surgery. I was horrified and frightened although he explained he could reconstruct at the same time. Just as I was about to completely lose the plot, Chin pointed out he was not here as a cosmetic surgeon but here to save my life.
In August a good friend drove me to my surgery. The sunrise was beautiful. I decided this was the day I removed cancer from my body. So many people offered love and support and my eldest brother came out from the UK.
It was empowering to know my life mattered so much to others.
As the cancer had just started to shift, a second surgery was necessary, and I had gruelling chemo and radiation which finished in April this year.
I kept the word cancer away from my daughter Maia to protect her. I now know it is best to tell children everything from early on. Maia heard of my cancer somehow and started having nightmares. One night she was very unsettled and finally asked: "Mama, how many more sleeps until you die?"
I told her of her 86-year-old grandmother having skin cancers cut out when I was little. That was a heartbreaking realisation that the word cancer should have been explained to her by me. There is a fabulous book I'd recommend for this situation called Butterfly Kisses and Wishes on Wings.
When my hair started to fall out on the pillow, Maia said: "Uh oh, Mama!" I joked about it being the fluff of the neighbour's cat sneaking in to sleep. Maia held my face and told me, "Never mind, Mama, you'll still be beautiful when you're bald."
I was privileged to be a Diva in last week's performances of Tarnished Frocks and Divas at Mills Reef. To go from being so sick, bald and skinny six months earlier to larger than life on the catwalk in front of my friends, family, and especially Maia was the most healing and empowering thing I've done yet.