We had booked a holiday afterwards so you can see I didn't think anything would be found, though knowing now what I do I was stupid not to realise. I had not realised the dimpling and orange peel skin around the nipple could indicate a problem, yet I had it for ages and did nothing about it, through sheer ignorance. I did check myself for lumps, though to be honest I had no clear idea of how to do it correctly, with the flat of the finger tips, and I put the occasional pain down to hormones, I had often had pain when my period was due, so thought nothing of it, yet if I had tied all the symptoms together, if I had seen the symptoms on a poster in my doctors surgery or a leaflet, maybe I might have made the connection. I had not found a lump, but the mammogram picked it up.
I had the mammogram on the Wednesday, on the Saturday the letter came saying I needed to go to the breast unit at the hospital the following Tuesday, the letter didn't exactly say urgent but the way it was worded made me think it was.
So less than a week after the first mammogram I ever had, the mammogram I didn't want to go for, the mammogram I thought I did not need, I was sitting in a hospital waiting room waiting to go through for a biopsy. Everybody was so nice, but I knew as soon as I handed my letter to reception, that it was serious, the receptionist had just directed everyone else to a seat, with me she told me the breast care nurse would be with me shortly and told me which seat to sit in. The breast care nurse, Corrin, was beside me within a few minutes and sat with me to explain quietly that I was to have a biopsy, she sat my husband in a separate section and escorted me through to a room with a bed and a large scanning machine and told me to take off my top things and put on a gown. I had already been warned not to wear perfume or deodorant. The doctor came into the room and explained the procedure, he would put some gel on and scan the breast to find the lump they had found, then insert a long thin needle into it to remove tissue. Had I noticed anything? Had I found a lump? Yes I told him, I thought I had just about detected a small lump deep in the side of my left breast the night before, it was hard to say for sure and I had been hoping I was wrong. Yes, he told me, that was the area the mammogram detected the tumour. He showed me on the screen, it showed up as a white area, apparently it shows up like that because it has calcified, there it was clearly defined.
The biopsy didn't hurt, the area had been numbed first, and it didn't take too long, I was told to get dressed and then I went outside to my husband and had to tell him they thought I had breast cancer. He looked shocked and tried to tell me to wait until the lab results of the biopsy came through the next day but the doctor had already said he thought it was cancer, the lab results were just a formality.
We were both escorted to the doctors office by the breast care nurse who sat with us while the doctor told us he couldn't be certain of course, but he thought the biopsy results would show cancer. We were asked to return the following day for the results and told try not to worry!!
When the cancer diagnosis was confirmed I was numb, I tried to joke it away by asking for a reconstruction involving my tummy and a tummy tuck, I had been expecting it but somehow could take it in. The words, I'm sorry but you have cancer, words you never want to hear. I didn't cry I just sat in that office and rambled on, stopping to listen to what the doctor and nurse said without really taking it in. We could see the surgeon that day if we were willing to wait, he was in surgery, but would be able to see us in a couple of hours if we were willing to wait. As we had a 45 minute drive home, traffic permitting, we decided to walk to the canteen, have a coffee, wait around. I couldn't bear to have to go back yet again the next day.
I think it was around 6pm by the time we finally left the hospital, as we got in the car I switched my mobile on, ten missed calls from my mom. I had told her some clock and bull story about where we would be that day, I didn't want to tell her the truth, not while there was a tiny tiny chance it was all a huge mistake, what was the point of my lovely mom, in her eighties, worrying herself sick for nothing. She had had enough to deal with having lost her husband of almost 60 years, my wonderful dad, a couple of years previously, after a long illness, but it turned out I had inadvertently worried her anyway as she had been trying to get hold of me and I was not answering my phone. She had even asked my sister's if they knew where I was, but neither could shed any light as I had not told anyone. I felt awful for being the cause of her worry, and terrible that I was about to make it even worse for her, being the youngest of three I was still, at 49, her baby.
The operation had been scheduled for three weeks time, I would have rather it be done straight away but I had to fit in with operating lists, I felt like there was an alien in my body, I just wanted it out. I had been told it was grade one, I would probably not need chemotherapy, just 15 sessions of radiotherapy, my hair could stop on my head.
Telling mom, and my two children, both in their twenties, was hard, very hard. Mom sat silent, unable to take it in, then asked if I would be all right. I tried to reassure her I would be fine, but it can't be easy to be told your baby has cancer, and with dad no longer around she did not have her rock to turn to. My children were in their twenties, no longer children, but it's not easy to tell them their mom has cancer. My son was very quiet, he didn't say a lot, and all through he remained positive, telling me off when he discovered me reading a book about cancer, thinking I was being negative by reading it, as I told him I wanted to know all the facts, so I could fight it. My daughter cried and shook from head to foot, we held each other close for ages, she couldn't stop shaking. She told me later she must have cried for a week. Funny how everybody reacts differently, their way of coping I suppose.
I was in hospital for five days, I had a wide local excision, which means I kept the breast, the surgeon removed the tumour and tissue from around it to ensure all the cancer was gone, he also removed 13 lymph nodes. I woke with a drainage tube going from my breast at the side to a bottle, to drain away the lymphatic fluid, I had to carry the bottle around with me slung over my shoulder in a small fabric bag! Nobody had warned me of this rather odd addition to my wardrobe!
A week after my operation I was back at the hospital for the lab results, expecting to be told the tumour was grade one, as has been indicated to me previously. When the surgeon said I'm sorry but the tumour was fast growing and aggressive, stage three, grade three, I was shocked to say the least. We both sat dumb struck unable to take in this awful news. The surgeon then went on to say "don't worry I still have ladies alive ten years after a diagnosis like this" and that's when the tears flowed, ten years, I only had ten years? He hastily amended his words, saying even twenty years, I still have some ladies alive twenty years later. The shock was enormous, I had been expecting him to say I would have fifteen sessions of radiotherapy and then it would be over, not that I could potentially have less than ten years to live! I would need chemotherapy, aggressive chemotherapy, to seek out any rogue cells which may have escaped, I had cancer in three of the thirteen lymph nodes removed, therefore it could potentially have spread. I would loose my hair, my lovely thick long hair. I couldn't bear it.
Cancer is a word which has scared me for a long time, I had seen my uncle loose his life to this terrible disease, my father in law, my aunt, my husband's uncle, all lost their lives because of cancer. I was so scared of it, of the treatments too, that I had indicated in the past that if ever I got cancer I would not have treatment, I couldn't bear to go through it if it made me so ill only to loose my life anyway. My husband was scared I would refuse treatment, he had heard me say it a few times, knew how terribly frightened of it I was, fear of the unknown, fear of the pain and suffering I had seen others go through. When it came to it though I could see no other option than to have the chemotherapy, the radiotherapy, what option did I have? I had too much to live for, my kids needed their mom, my husband needed his wife, I couldn't leave them.
I had six months of chemotherapy, needles stuck into the back of my hand whilst strong drugs dripped into my body, making me terribly sick, especially the first time when I was sick constantly for five days, having to get the emergency doctor out to stop it, resulting in district nurses arriving twice a day to inject anti sickness medication as I couldn't keep tablets down. After that the oncologist doubled the dose so I could cope better, meaning I as sick sometimes but not all the while! The team in the chemotherapy unit were great, supportive and kind.
I had radiotherapy too, which burnt the skin beneath my breast, something I didn't envisage, as the treatments themselves were no problem, you just lie still, nothing hurts. I got an infection on the burns which proved painful and had to be dressed by the nurses door months until it healed. Very painful, so if you have radiotherapy take great care of yourself.
I finished the chemotherapy at the end of October, and had been looking forward to celebrating the end of treatment, but in September we all had the most terrible shock when mom passed away suddenly. She was found on the floor of her flat by our daughter, nothing could be done she was already gone, while we were away in the Cotswolds for a few days break from everything. I was the last person she spoke to, she rang to see if we were having a good time, she told me she was proud of me, I can't remember her ever telling me that before. Mom died quietly, she was such a kind gentle person, who lived her life quietly. We were devastated.
Round about Christmas time we had another shock when I discovered my tumour was HER2 positive, a new treatment had been found for people with HER2 positive tumours but the drug had not been approved for use in the UK, women all over the country were fighting to have the drug and some dying before they got the chance. Now I needed it. I contacted my local health authority to see if I would be approved and wondered if we might have to sell our house to get the £20,000 it would cost privately. I had to wait a few weeks then one morning I had a phone call to say I had been approved, in fact it was on the radio later that day that herceptin was now available for all who needed it! I'm so grateful to those women who stood up to fight.
I had a year's treatment on herceptin, going to hospital every two weeks to have needles stuck into my hand again, the side effects thankfully were negligible and my hair had returned, thank God, that wig was hot, itchy and uncomfortable! My hair fell out in the shower three weeks after the first chemotherapy, and began to grow again just before mom died. Strangely it came back in tight curls, very soft, and I'm told they call it the chemo curl!
For five years I took tamoxifen, a hormone treatment to keep the cancer from returning, before going on to metropolis which unfortunately affected my arthritis quite a bit but I stuck with it and took it for the three years the doctors recommended.
Yesterday I had my annual oncologist check up, on the way to hospital I said I had had enough, I wished it was all over, was ready not to have to go for check ups every six months (alternating visits to the surgeon). In the past I had been worried about not having that reassurance there, but I have been backwards and forwards to hospitals for almost nine years, enough is enough! I had been told by the surgeon I would need to attend for ten years so I was surprised when the oncologist, having completed his examination, said I had no need to take hormones any longer and that I would be discharged from their care. Yes I cried, I was so relieved to not have the burden of the regular visits to hospital, and he said I have the telephone number if I have any problems which he hopes I won't, so that's it, no more oncologist appointments, I am no longer a cancer patient. I have to see the surgeon in March but I think, hope, that when he realises I have been discharged from oncologist I will be discharged from his care too. Every year which goes by after cancer the chances of it returning get smaller and smaller, that's what the oncologist told me and I am glad to know it.
So my cancer journey is over, I hope so anyway, I am very grateful to the doctors and nurses who treated me and got me through . I am very grateful to friends and family for their love and support. I am thankful to be alive, what more can I say but thank you with all my heart. X
