What Cancer Taught Me About Living with Uncertainty
Interview with Jacqui Taylor
In July 2020, Jacqui Taylor received a life-changing diagnosis: lobular breast cancer. At the height of the pandemic, she found herself not only facing the unknowns of her health but also grappling with the uncertainty of her business, her family’s future, and, ultimately, her own life.
What followed was a journey of unexpected clarity. Jacqui’s story is a powerful reminder that even in our darkest moments, there’s a choice: to let fear control us or to embrace life’s fleeting nature with open arms.
***********************************************
[Dr. Kristina Adams Waldorf]: Welcome everyone. Today, I am excited to talk with Jacqui Taylor, who is a writer, mentor, teacher of meditation and yoga, and formally a physical therapist. She lives in northern England and was diagnosed with breast cancer in July 2020 – in the throes of the pandemic. Welcome Jacqui.
[Jacqui Taylor]: Thank you for inviting me. I'm really excited to talk to you.
[Dr. Kristina Adams Waldorf]: First, would you please tell me about when you were diagnosed with breast cancer?
[Jacqui Taylor]: I was diagnosed with lobular breast cancer in July 2020, during the COVID-19 lockdown. My physical therapy business had been severely affected, and I had only recently started seeing patients in person again
I noticed some changes to the shape of my right breast. I looked at it and thought, "That's odd," and then did nothing else about it. I just went back to worrying about how to salvage my business. It was only when I mentioned it to a friend that she said, "You need to go and see the doctor." So, I did.
The doctor took one look and said, "That's an immediate referral." Within a week, I was seen by a specialist. Even as I sat in the clinic going from one test to the other, I was in some weird kind of, "Oh, this thing's happening, okay?"
The surgeon told me there and then – before we even had the biopsy results – that I had breast cancer. My husband wasn't allowed in because of COVID restrictions. The hardest bit was probably having to ring him in the car where he'd been waiting for three hours, knowing he would realize I wouldn't be calling unless it was bad news. When the surgeon repeated the diagnosis to him, that's when it really hit home for me.
[Dr. Kristina Adams Waldorf]: It's always such a hard thing the first time you hear either "you have cancer" or "your loved one has cancer.”
[Jacqui Taylor]: Life changing from that moment. I remember walking home from work on the Friday before my appointment thinking, "If I have cancer, I am never working this hard again," because it had been so overwhelming since lockdown.
[Dr. Kristina Adams Waldorf]: You actually had three of the four types of breast cancer. Can you tell us about that and how you dealt with it?
[Jacqui Taylor]: It took eight weeks for me to get my full diagnosis, partly because of COVID delays. I had lobular breast cancer, which is the second most common type of breast cancer. Lobular cancer is missing a protein, so it doesn't form lumps but grows in strings, meaning it doesn't always appear on mammograms.
I had an MRI to check the tumor size, and something appeared in the other breast. They investigated and found two more forms of breast cancer—ductal in situ and tubular—both in very early stages. My son joked, "What, are you playing cancer bingo, Mom? Trying to get a full house?"
The other two tumors were very tiny and would have taken years to detect otherwise. So, it was a relief to have it all sorted in one go, though it did change the treatment plan.
I was pretty calm that first day. My overwhelming memory was that the universe was giving me a message—I had been ignoring various other health issues, many of which were stress-related. I thought, "I've clearly not been paying attention, and now I've been given no choice but to stop."
Honestly, as weird as that sounds, it felt like a relief. Everything else I'd been worrying about, I could just let go of. I physically felt like all that weight lifted off my shoulders because I only had one thing to think about now.
After my first surgery, the pathology was that it was in my lymph nodes with no clear margin to the skin. They had to do a second operation to remove the affected skin and the lymph nodes. I now needed chemotherapy as well as radiation therapy.
My physio mentor and dear friend told me, "You only have one thing to worry about, and that's staying alive. Nothing else matters. You can rebuild a business, but you can't do anything if you're not here."
I just had to accept it. Melting down wouldn't help anybody, especially my kids, who were 13 and 16 at the time. I didn't want to be in that pit of doom. I've had depression in the past, so there was an element of, "I have to stay away from the edge and stay in as optimistic a place as I can." Some of it was driven by fear—I was scared of stepping over and never coming back up again.
[Dr. Kristina Adams Waldorf]: Your approach is remarkable, Jacqui. I am so impressed by your courage and clear thinking to see the big picture for you, your family, and your future. If you had advice for someone struggling with cancer or caregiving for someone with cancer, what would you say?
[Jacqui Taylor]: One thing I really grappled with was uncertainty. There's so much uncertainty about cancer, even in my current situation where there's no evidence of disease. A few weeks ago, I had a scare that required tests, and it hit me like a train.
But everything is uncertain, and we must be comfortable with that. Our future was uncertain even before the cancer diagnosis—we just didn't know it. It's simply more real when you've had something like this.
The word “cancer” is loaded with fear, and the uncertainty can drive you insane. Somehow, you have to accept that the uncertainty will always be there. It's also about making the most of every day, appreciating the people you love and recognizing what actually matters—it's not about material things.
One final thing I've learned is that it's completely alright to feel awful, hurt, or sad. Accept that these are completely reasonable reactions. Don't try to run away from those feelings. Whatever your experience is, that's okay.
[Dr. Kristina Adams Waldorf]: For me, the hardest thing is avoiding the self-judgment that says, "You shouldn't feel this way. Someone else would be tougher and get through grief more easily."
Actually, your body needs to feel these emotions and sit with the grief and discomfort to be able to move through. This doesn’t mean you get over grief. You learn to live with it.
Would you please tell us about your book? It is called, The Space Between: Breast Cancer and Finding Me. https://www.amazon.com/Space-Between-Breast-cancer-finding/dp/B0BM84RTZ5
[Jacqui Taylor]: My memoir started as journaling and my middle-of-the-night thoughts. It covers the 12 months from diagnosis to its anniversary, which I celebrate yearly because it marked a new beginning for me.
My message is: don't wait for something as monumental as cancer to start examining what matters and making changes in your life.
[Dr. Kristina Adams Waldorf]: Thank you, Jacqui. This was wonderful. I appreciate your time and courage in sharing your story and approach.
[Jacqui Taylor]: You're welcome. Thank you for having me.
If you are interested in learning more about Jacqui Taylor and reading her Substack, Inner Source, here is a link:
https://jacquisonelife.substack.com/about
If you would like to read other posts that are part of Kristina’s evolving memoir (After He Said Cancer), here are a few:
How It Began. This story is the origins of my Substack, and tells the story of the first moment when we learned of my husband’s breast cancer diagnosis. https://www.afterhesaidcancer.com/p/how-it-began
A Beach Surprise. A nice day at the beach turns into something else entirely, thanks to our mischievous animal. https://www.afterhesaidcancer.com/p/a-beach-surprise
A Queen. The story of a dear friend who lost her husband to breast cancer.
100 Different Fonts. A conversation over breakfast turned into a question as to why cancer couldn’t easily be cured. Read on for my answer.
*********************************************************************************************************
Thank you for being one of my readers. I appreciate you very much! If you’d like to support my work you can do so by:
Hearting this post, so that others are encouraged to read it. (This helps others to see my posts.)
Leaving a comment (I do my best to respond to each of them), which increases engagement and visibility of my posts
Sharing this post by email or on social media
Taking out a free or paid subscription to this Substack
Leaving me a tip by buying me a coffee.
After He Said Cancer is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
 | A guest post by
|
Jacqui, yes and yes and yes. The uncertainty. And his remarkably a version of normal service resumes. I hear you. I am living with stage 4 lung cancer and my heart is pulsing along with you. 🌿
It is so easy to coast through life. Then a long comes a pandemic, or the death of a young person, or a cancer diagnosis and we are thrown right into the deep end of life's examination.
Thank you, Jacqui, for reminding us we don't have to wait for trials and tribulations. We can start right now. 💙💛💙