Riding Pink, Fighting Strong.

My journey so far

It all started one morning, lying in bed with my toddler and baby. My son pinched my breast (as toddlers do), and I felt a small ball just under the skin. I figured it was a milk duct — I was still feeding my youngest at the time — but with a family history of breast cancer, I decided to get it checked out.

On the 16th of October 2024, I went for an ultrasound. By the end of the appointment, I was being referred for a biopsy.
Fast forward to the 31st of October — Halloween, my favourite holiday — and there I was, being stabbed with a giant horse needle. Fitting, right? To make it extra on-brand, I was in the waiting room frantically trying to buy MotoGP 2025 tickets before being called in. Priorities! Luckily, the doctors were patient and even humoured me with some bike chat before we got down to business.

But despite the laughs, I knew something wasn’t right. The gentle hand on my shoulder, the kind eyes, the softly spoken, “your doctor will have the results by Monday.” That was enough.

On the 5th of November, my GP called. It’s cancer. I kind of knew already, so I went straight into action mode. By the end of the week, I had a referral, and I was sitting across from a breast surgeon. I rode there, helmet in hand like a comfort blanket, phone recording in case my brain didn’t absorb the details. The surgeon seemed shocked I came alone, but honestly — the bike has been my biggest sidekick through all of this.

The good news? It had been caught early. Surgery was set for the 26th of November.

In January, I met with my oncologist and began radiation a couple of weeks later. I was approved for Brachytherapy, which meant twenty catheters (yep, straws) were surgically placed into my breast so radiation could be delivered directly. It was pretty wild to look at, but also kind of amazing. My first session was the afternoon after surgery. I even Ubered home that night — had to sneak out of the hospital since I was technically supposed to be “accompanied.”

Through all of this, the bike has been my freedom. For almost every appointment, I’ve ridden in. I’d stop at the beach around Brighton Le Sands or Botany, soak in the sun, grab a coffee, and ground myself before heading into the hospital. My riding community has been incredible too — from organising a special lunch for me before surgery, to joining me in a photoshoot less than a week after I was stitched up. Being on the bike, and surrounded by my people, has kept me sane and smiling through the chaos.

This year, I’m hosting a Pink Ribbon Breakfast and Ride for the motorcycle community I love so much. It’s my way of giving back — raising awareness, raising funds, and proving that sometimes the best medicine is laughter, community, and two wheels