Listed: ‘Utter Ducking Nonsense’ Breast Cancer with Gemma Ainger

Gemma Ainger is just like so many of us. Husband, two kids, job in marketing for a well known local company, good friends and family and a deep enjoyment of life on this island that we all live on. She didn’t worry too much about herself or her health. However, last year, after being diagnosed with stage 3 cancer that was spreading rapidly, she underwent multiple surgeries, rounds of chemo and radiotherapy and started a journey to health that she never wanted to take. One that is with her for the next decade at least.

Along the way, she documented her story on her instagram utter_ducking_nonsense - and is now determined to make sure that as few people as possible ever go through what she did by raising awareness for the public to CHECK YOUR BOOBS and pushing for change on a variety on levels, including ensuring we have early detection and earlier mammogram processes.

And she’s doing it with a smile on her face and a quiet determination that makes us think, she might just achieve that.

Gemma is Listed.

I was only 42.

In June 2024, when I felt something unusual in the shower, my instinct was to brush it off. It honestly didn’t feel like anything I should worry about – in fact, I genuinely thought it was a rib. Plus, I’m only 42, I’m in good health, and no one in my family has ever had anything nasty in that area, so why would I?

My husband kept insisting I get it checked out, so a few weeks later, after months of trying to ignore my sore knee that had been keeping me awake for months, I finally gave in and booked a GP appointment. For my knee. So there I was, very much focused on my throbbing knee, when I tagged on a “Whilst I’m here, can you look at this?” A lot of serious conditions, like cancer and mental health, are diagnosed this way, when we pop in with a sore throat - or a bad knee. It’s getting through the door, right?

“If I’d been paying attention to my body, I could have spotted it sooner.”

I was immediately referred to the local breast specialist, but due to a longer wait at that time, my husband and I decided to travel to London on our private health insurance. I just wanted to know what was happening with my body. I was sure it would be nothing, but I wanted to know that for sure.

One quick google and I found a breast ultrasound clinic on Harley Street – the place I associate with medical stuff. I booked an appointment for two days later on a Saturday, booked our flight, and off we went.

In That Moment My World Changed.

At the appointment, I lay on the bed, looking up at a giant TV screen hanging above me. Nervous, wondering what he was going to tell us, whilst clinging onto the hope that it’ll be nothing to worry about. As the specialist performed the ultrasound, firstly he headed to the spot where I had felt something. “Oh hello big dark blob on the screen, what are you?” I instantly thought. He then headed up my boob around the top, where the words “there’s something here too” came from his mouth. And finally, he went across, into my armpit to see if there was anything happening to my lymph nodes. All I could see was darkness on the screen. It wasn’t until he scanned my right side, that I realised what normal lymph nodes should look like, and that what we’d just seen was not normal!

We pressured him to give us his honest opinion on whether it looked like something nasty, to which, he quite rightly explained, that he couldn’t say for sure until a biopsy had been taken. But what he could do is rate what he’d seen on a scale of 1-5 - 1 being probably nothing to worry about, and 5 being not good. Can you guess where he put me? Five! My husband went white as a sheet.

We were flying home that day so the specialist kindly figured out a way to slot me in for three biopsies and a mammogram (with a very bruised boob, so that was fun).

Stage 3… And Growing.

The results would take a few days to come through, so the wait began. Those few days felt like weeks but ’ll never forget the day we received the devastating diagnosis: stage three breast cancer that had progressed into my lymph nodes and was growing at an epic rate.

It All Happened Very Fast.

The news was a complete shock, and given how advanced the cancer was, my husband and I quickly faced decisions about treatment options that we never imagined we’d have to make.

It all happened very fast! I was diagnosed on July 18th, and on August 11th, I was back in London, putting on a gown and some very attractive blue compression socks, heading into theatre for what turned into a 12-hour surgery. I had a mastectomy, an innovative new lymph procedure, and reconstruction using fat from my tummy (tummy tuck). In fact, I spoke to my plastic surgeon the day before and asked him to remove anything left that he didn’t need to use - gotta take the good with the bad right?

When the surgeon said my cancer was doubling in size every 4 weeks, he wasn’t wrong! By the time I went into surgery, it had spread from four lymph nodes to eight! A very scary amount! So to keep me safe and futureproofed as much as he could, he removed a whopping 26 nodes! Thank goodness I had this new lymph technique that he was only one of a few that could perform. If I hadn’t, he told me that I would have certainly got lymphedema (swollen arm for life).

Recovery And The New Road Ahead.

Five weeks later, once I got back home to Guernsey, I faced the next challenge, waiting for my wounds to heal. This took much longer than it should have done which was worrying when chemo should ideally start 7-9 weeks post-surgery. After an infection, a surgery to wash it out, and a trip to London to have it re-stitched, I eventually started the 16 rounds of chemo at week 14.

It was after the second round, that my hair started coming out in big clumps. So off it all came! I decided to take control of the situation, rather than watch it fall out every day, so I shaved it all off. Thankfully I discovered that I have a evenly shaped head under all that hair. Phew! The GI Jane look wasn’t so bad.

The last four rounds were bi-weekly and were a highly toxic form of chemo – the red devil. I had handled the first 12 weeks of the milder type very well, which I was grateful for. But, it was the last four that sent the most dread through me each time I had to go for the next one. You’d just feel a bit better and then you’d have to go in again. It felt relentless.

Finally, after 5 months of chemo, the day came where I got to ring that bell! I bloody did it! What a relief that this part was over.

Then 3 weeks later, I headed off to Southampton for 15 days of radiotherapy.

And now, What’s next? Well, for the next ten years, I need to take a cocktail of hormone blockers, cancer blockers, have bone transfusions, and endure a painful monthly hormone-blocking injection to stop my ovaries from working, effectively forcing me into early menopause. Which is a whole other thing. I’m lucky I have my kids, but I can’t imagine what that would be like for someone who hadn’t yet - on top of everything else. But look, It’s a lot, but I’m alive! And who knows what magical new drugs will be invented between now and then – let’s hope they find something that will 100% stop it coming back.

Looking For The Rainbow In The Storm.

I am classified as “High risk for recurrence” is a hard thought to process but I have hope that research will have advanced massively by the time I come off the tablets in 10 years and my worries about it coming back can be put to bed.

Whatever bad stuff is going on, you have to think positively, otherwise its only darkness that surrounds you. Always look for the rainbow in your storm.

Did the world force me to see the doctor by making my knee hurt? Was my body fed up of waiting for me to spot the giant mass inhabiting my left boob? Whether you believe in any of that or not, my knee is what got me in front of the right person. And thank goodness it did!

With no family history or genetic predisposition (which is only around 10% of cases anyway), I was simply unlucky. And I was too young to be a part of the routine mammogram service.

Using My Marketing Skills For Good.

Knowing that I could have caught this sooner has fueled my determination to raise awareness about breast health and come up with ways to help as many people as possible.

Everything happens for a reason, right? That’s what I truly believe. For whatever reason, the world chose me. But why? For what purpose? I had to try and work this out and extract some positives from this Utter_Ducking_Nonsense that I had been suddenly thrown in to.

I have worked in marketing for over 20 years so my brain is always looking for creative ways to help solve a problem or answer a question that engages with an audience to drive results. Cancer didn’t stop this from happening! I channeled the need to be useful and make a difference into two things; helping the Pink Ladies Breast Cancer Charity with their communications, and I’m currently working on an early detection tool that I believe will make a significant difference. Every storm has a rainbow, and this is mine.

Take part in the Pink Ladies Sunset Walk on the 28th June 2025, and help support breast cancer awareness in the Bailiwick.