600 Days. 600 Miles. One Step at a Time.

Walking and cycling 600 miles to raise awareness, support research and help improve the future for people diagnosed with inflammatory breast cancer.

600 days.

That is how long cancer treatment has been part of my life.

On Christmas Eve 2024, while most people were preparing for Christmas, I was told I had two rare forms of breast cancer: invasive mucinous carcinoma and inflammatory breast cancer (IBC).

I had never heard of inflammatory breast cancer.

Within days, I was racing across Scotland for scans, tests and appointments. By 3 January 2025, I had started intensive, dose-dense chemotherapy to try to shrink a 13cm tumour. I wore the cold cap in the hope of saving my hair, but eventually it fell out.

Chemotherapy did not significantly reduce the size of the tumour but the volume shrank. In May 2025, I underwent a mastectomy and removal of all the lymph nodes from my armpit.

Then came another twist. Testing of a necrotic lymph node that had survived chemotherapy showed that the remaining cancer was HER2-positive, despite my cancer initially being HER2-negative. My treatment therefore had to change, with a further course of chemotherapy and a year of HER2-targeted treatment with Phesgo, alongside radiotherapy.

The following months brought further complications. I experienced persistent seromas, with fluid repeatedly filling the cavity left by my mastectomy. At times, almost a litre had to be drained. On Christmas Eve 2025, exactly one year after my diagnosis, I was back in hospital after my skin broke down following the combined effects of the seroma and radiotherapy. Further surgery followed.

In August 2026, I completed my year of targeted treatment and underwent a precautionary mastectomy on my right side.

I am incredibly fortunate to have reached this point. But my treatment journey isn’t over. I will continue with long-term treatment for several more years.

I have had the best care in the world under Saurabh, Jenny, Yashwanth and their teams of incredible nurses and support staff in the breast clinic and Ward 32 at Ninewells Hospital and Perth Royal Infirmary.

Why I am fundraising for the IBC Network UK

I wasn’t aware of inflammatory breast cancer before I was diagnosed with it.

Because IBC is rare and aggressive, I quickly realised how important specialist knowledge was. During those first frightening days, I contacted an IBC specialist centre in Texas, sharing my diagnosis and treatment plan. Their expertise and reassurance that I was on the right pathway were enormously important to me at a frightening time.

I only discovered IBC Network UK later, when I began thinking about fundraising.

Learning more about its work made me realise just how important it is that inflammatory breast cancer is better understood, recognised and researched. When a cancer is rare, awareness and specialist knowledge matter enormously.

I want to turn my experience into something useful for the people who come after me.

I want a future where people with IBC are recognised sooner, receive the best possible treatment and have better outcomes.

So I’m turning 600 days into 600 miles.

Over the next 12 months, I am going to walk and cycle 600 miles - one mile (and a bit) for every day that cancer treatment has been part of my life.

That works out at around 50 miles a month, but there is no race and no stopwatch.

Some miles will be walked. Some will be cycled. Some will be easy. Some will be slow.

This isn’t about speed. It’s about moving forward.

And I’d love you to be part of the journey.

You can sponsor a mile, join me for a walk or cycle, share the challenge, or simply follow along.

Most importantly, your donation will help IBC Network UK continue its work to raise awareness, increase understanding and support research into inflammatory breast cancer.

600 days of treatment.

600 miles of moving forward.

One step at a time.

Thank you for helping me turn 600 difficult days into something hopeful - and for helping make the road ahead a little easier for the people who come after me.

Hope always, Julie, Allan and Enzo