It's good news, really. The cancer is gone. No chemotherapy. No radiotherapy. Just one pill I take every evening. That's all.

I told myself: I'll start taking the pill as quickly as possible after the results, to be free and get back to work as soon as possible. I was in a rush. Just writing that stresses me out again. I was in a world running at 100 miles an hour, but I was in denial — I thought I could keep up.

Before my operation, I had an appointment at another hospital where I was going to freeze my eggs — because I couldn't do it at the hospital that had operated on me. They gave me an appointment after my surgery. I don't know exactly when — I think they called me about two or three weeks after the surgery to ask if I still wanted to freeze my eggs. Of course I wanted to. Since I learned about my breast cancer, all I’m thinking about is to be able to give birth. On the other hand, they explained on the phone that I'd need to be under general anaesthesia. I didn't want that. I'd just come out of an operation under general anaesthesia. I'd been afraid of never waking up — so I didn't want to go through that again. At least not so soon. They explained on the phone that if I did the freezing that evening I'd be under general anaesthesia straight away, or otherwise I wouldn't have the chance to do it because I was going to have to start my treatment — the hormone therapy. Once the treatment started I couldn't stop, and it was incompatible with egg freezing.

I didn't know all that. Breast cancer journey is so long that you always learn what’s going to happen next step by step otherwise it’s too difficult for the brain to process all the steps at once. My mental state was quite fragile. I asked for time to reflect before making my decision. I told Marc straight away. I was in tears. It often happened when I was frustrated. I think I had the habit of getting what I wanted after the announcement — quick appointments, help etc — and when plans changed, I had trouble accepting it. Marc calmed me down. He told me to take the decision I wanted that I should think about myself and we will figure out for the baby later.

I decided to freeze my eggs. I took a 30 minutes thinking and then I felt like it was the right choice. I called the hospital which told me finally I'd had time to reflect — I wasn't obliged to start the treatment now. Fine, I'd made my decision. I wanted to do the operation. It was going to be a small 30-minute operation. It would go well and it would allow me to keep eggs if I have trouble to get pregnant. I thought only about that — my future, our future children. I wanted to tell them that their mum had done everything she could for them to be born. That gave me hope and strength.

When I was at the hospital each time, what I was telling myself was that the next time I'd come back it would be to give birth to our baby. That's also what I said to Marc and it made him happy.

We launched the eggs preservation procedure. I had to go often to the hospital which was in Paris, so I asked taxis to take me. In France, taxis are paid by social security in my case. Marc often came with me.

They did pelvic ultrasounds to check the state of my ovaries and eggs. There were many women doing it. Some weren't in my situation. They wanted to preserve for later. It was free to do. It was also for that reason that I'd accepted — it was already free for me but it was above all because being able to freeze the eggs was a long wait. I'd had the right to a fast lane. I knew friends who wanted to do it and who had to wait months or even years. So I decided to seize the opportunity.

At the hospital everything went quickly. Blood test then ultrasound and we saw each other again two days later. It was a bit like being in a factory. During the time, I had to give myself injections every day. At first I was afraid but in the end it went fine. The needle was super thin. You barely feel anything. I just had to make sure I was at home when I had to do my injection because the product I was injecting myself needed to stay in the fridge. It was a little constraining but I did it for our future family.

The ultrasound allows you to see if there are enough mature eggs to trigger the operation. Before that, I had a telephone appointment with the anaesthetist who told me I could do a local anaesthetic. But I had bad memories of my last local anaesthetic so I chose the general one. He told me it was very light and that in general patients really liked this anaesthetic. I'd understand later what he meant by that.

There were a lot of appointments and, as with all medical appointments lately, I was in automatic mode.

We had an appointment with the doctor who is going to do the surgery.We waited to be called. The doctor called us. She was accompanied by an intern. I think we were all wearing masks. At least the doctor was wearing her mask. She explained to us how it was going to happen to preserve the eggs or the embryos. I had to talk about my cancer again. I had tears in my eyes when I talked about it especially here as we were addressing the subject of children.

We had to go to another service for them to explain more precisely how it was going to happen and to sign the papers. An intern explained to us how fertilisation happened, how they were going to take my eggs etc. I remember when the intern showed us a photo of a fertilised embryo and its development — day 2, day 4 etc. I was so moved, almost in tears waiting for that image. I was projecting so much that I had the impression it was our embryo, our future baby.

The day of the intervention, I barely slept. The taxi came to collect us. We arrived super early. Marc was there with me to support me — and also to do his own sperm sample in case I had enough eggs to freeze embryos. Before being able to give his sperm sample, he had to check if he was fertile. It was quite funny because it was like in the movies. He went into a room with a TV available. He was quite embarrassed. I waited for him fairly long in the waiting room.

It was my turn. They called my name. I was put in a reclining chair and taken to where I was to be operated on. I had much less fear than when I was operated on for the cancer. I had fewer memories of this operation — I think it marked me less. I lay on a table. I think we talked a bit. They put the anaesthetic. I woke up in a room with a woman on the computer. It was a small room. I could hear a happy song. Don’t remember which song it was but it was a song I liked. There was only her and me. That reassured me because the other recovery room at the hospital was horrible. I remembered having had lots of positive thoughts on waking up. I wanted to plan activities, lunches with my family and friends. In short, I wanted to live fully. To grab life with both hands.

I went back to my room. Marc was there. He was waiting for me. They gave us breakfast. We both had the right to it. It was a little better than the other hospital’s breakfast. In Paris they seem to have more budget. We ate. They told me to do a good wee to evacuate the anaesthetic. Honestly, the anesthetic had put in such a good mood that I didn’t want to evacuate it.

My friend, Inès had a mission at the hospital where I'd just been operated on so she came to say hello. Before leaving, I had to hand in my file so we met her there, at the administrative floor. I was happy to see her. She waited for our taxi with us. While waiting, we sat in the park opposite. We chatted. I felt at peace. The anaesthetic felt really good. After the operation, they told me my uterus was going to stay swollen at worst until my next period. Indeed, it was quite swollen. I looked like a pregnant woman. I don't think I was in pain. I waited just for the results to know if they'd managed to freeze enough eggs. If that was the case, I could start my hormone therapy. The sooner I started, the sooner it would be finished.

They told me they'd contact me during the day. I hadn't had a response. I called them the next day and they confirmed that 13 eggs had been frozen. No embryo because they estimated there weren't enough eggs. I was happy. I could move on to the next step. I had to call the hospital to find out whether I could start my hormone therapy because I hadn't had any indication on that subject. I'd forgotten to ask at my last consultation and they hadn't told me. I waited a little and they confirmed I could start my treatment.

I was eager to finish so I could move on but I also apprehended the side effects. I noted the first day of my treatment on my calendar. I was afraid of starting to take the pill. I always keep all the used pill packets. If I ever forget one day, I can count them all to make sure I've taken my pill well. It's been around six months now that I've been taking the pill. A lot of fatigue and word loss. Some occasional muscular pain. Vaginal dryness. My uterus is still more and more swollen. I have trouble closing all my high-waisted trousers. I close them but I'm very uncomfortable. I wear them anyway but I'm very uncomfortable.

I don't remember that was the case before the operation. I don’t really have lower-cut trousers so I put on my high-waisted ones without closing the button and I hide it with my top. You can't see anything. Except that sometimes my trousers fall. But since my breast cancer surgery, I stopped worrying about how I look.

I let myself two weeks after the first Tamoxifen dose to see if I tolerated it well. I found out much later — a few months later — that the side effects or rather the secondary effects arise about three months after. Well, once again you have to find out for yourself or ask the right questions at the right moment. When I asked if I could go back to work, nobody told me no. So I went back — two weeks after taking my Tamoxifen for the first time. I was very apprehensive. A lot of stress. I went back on a Monday — and that day was also the funeral of one of my uncle. It wasn't the best combination.