I worried it wasn’t safe every time I breastfed my baby during shock cancer battle at 39, says Corrie’s Victoria Ekanoye
Actress Victoria Ekanoye, 42, on the fear of not seeing her baby grow up and life after a double mastectomy.
The former Coronation Street star opens up about tackling her fears and battling the disease while looking after her young son.
Sitting at home in my kitchen, life was beginning to feel good again. It was July 2021 and I was six months into new motherhood with my son Théo.
As I chatted away on FaceTime with my mum Candy, Théo woke up and was hungry.
Breastfeeding him, I felt a sudden pulling sensation on the inside of my breast. It was such an alien feeling.
A sense of dread began to build in my stomach. Part of me hoped it was mastitis, but knowing that four other women in my family had previously had breast cancer — including my mum at 41 and her sister at 39 – I started to worry.
Not wanting to alarm my partner Jonny [Lomas, 35, an electrician], whose mum had just been diagnosed with ovarian cancer, I kept the discovery to myself, but was determined to get it checked out.
I was filled with frustration and anger – our family has had enough knocks on the door with cancer.
I had two ultrasounds and was told it was likely blocked milk ducts, so I thought to myself: “Trust the professionals.”
Weeks later, while filming the BBC’s Death In Paradise in the Caribbean, I found a small, hard lump as I was adjusting my microphone.
I was filled with frustration and anger – our family has had enough knocks on the door with cancer.
I decided to get a third opinion, and for the next two weeks I channelled my rage into my villainous character, Miranda Priestley, which felt cathartic.
When I got home, my GP referred me to a One Stop Breast Clinic for tests, including a physical examination, an ultrasound, a mammogram, biopsies and a needle test in my armpit, after the medical team found a lump there, too.
When the results came back in October 2021, Jonny and I held hands as the doctor explained they’d found ductal carcinoma in situ – cancer cells within the milk ducts. I felt him stiffen in shock.
Getting a diagnosis was a relief, but a huge part of me was filled with anxiety. I wondered what would happen if I didn’t make it and what it would mean for Théo.
I fretted I wasn’t going to be there to see him grow from an amazing little boy into a man.
It was magical
Whenever I breastfed him, all I could think was: “Is this safe?” Knowing cancer was in the milk ducts, I worried whether my milk was good for him.
My breasts were giving my baby life through my milk, but might potentially kill me, too.
Eight weeks after my diagnosis, I had a double mastectomy and reconstructive surgery.
It was tough coming to terms with the procedure, and waking up from surgery, feeling heavy-chested and swollen, seemed like a milestone.
I’d got through it alive. Not being able to hold Théo while I regained my strength was hard, but four weeks later on January 16, 2022 – Théo’s first birthday – I could pick him up again. It was magical.
Life isn’t a rehearsal. We don’t get to do this again – something I’ve been made acutely aware of
In many ways, having a cancer diagnosis saved my life. I feel alive and grateful to be here, and I want Théo to be proud that I beat it against the odds.
Recovery hasn’t been easy, though. Battling menopause caused by a daily tamoxifen tablet and the monthly goserelin injection I’ll need for the next five years, has been difficult to accept.
I wake in the night with hot flushes and aches. And the brain fog is a struggle – especially with a three year old to parent! I used to pride myself on how quickly I learned my lines, but now I have to keep going over them.
And when my medication stops, I may go through the menopause for a second time, due to my age. Still, it’s a small price to pay.
These days, I’m busier than ever and prioritising time with friends and family. I’ve been working on a documentary, The Naked Truth, about breast cancer and the disparity in diagnosis and mortality of African women and the diaspora.
Now I’m cancer-free, my mentality is different. Life isn’t a rehearsal. We don’t get to do this again – something I’ve been made acutely aware of. Life can be glorious and beautiful, but it’s down to us to make it so.
Follow Victoria on Instagram and X @Victoriaekanoye.
