Okay, Pizza isn't really a cake, but it's is connected with my breast lump and the NCT.
The NCT connection
When I was pregnant with my first child I joined a National Childbirth Trust (NCT) group for anti-natal classes. The woman who led it was extraordinary. We had to engage in what I felt were very stupid 'games' and share what seemed like irrelevant information. I had paid for the classes and although I couldn't really see the point (panting practice etc) I kept going.
And I felt I had very little in common with the other women in the group. Different personalities; different interests, hopes and fears different backgrounds ... different everything. We didn't really gel, I suspect everyone else was thinking the same about me. But towards the end of the series of lessons the wife of my GP ran a session. She was already a midwife and was in training to be an NCT breast feeding counsellor. The session wasn't particularly inspiring, but she was a lovely intelligent woman (who was actually tremendously supportive when she was with me about 5 / 6 years later when I was in labour with my forth child). We learnt about what happens inside your breasts, how the milk 'comes in', how to position the baby when feeding them and how to get support if things go pear-shaped (no pun intended).
But the best thing she did was to suggest that we all met up after the classes were over - something that was probably the last thing we'd have thought of doing without prompting. Anyway we did.
And after the classes had stopped, we'd meet up weekly for coffee and a chat in each other's homes, introducing our new babies as they arrived over the initial weeks. Here were women who bonded when sharing stories of the traumas they went through during birth their babies' births, who actually wanted to talk about the colour of neonatal poos, who were interested in cabbage leaves and mastitis, and who very quickly formed close and enduring bonds of friendship with each other.
And over the years a core group of us have kept in touch. We started off by meeting in each others houses for coffee every week when they were very little and we were between jobs or on maternity leave. And once they'd gone to school (and other children had followed) we went out without children for a pizza and a chat. We still meet up as a group about twice a year for a Pizza and in pairs at other times.
Given my diagnosis and imminent operation, I don't want to risk exposing myself to catching covid (though I have been doubly vaccinated), so our most recent meet-up was in my garden and I made pizza for us all using the recipe above. We talked about my diagnosis; this is a group of people I've talked about breasts with before and it felt natural rather than embarrassing or difficult to talk about this with them. They have all been incredibly wise, thoughtful and supportive and each has something different to offer by way of support. I'm truly lucky.
Breasts - sizes, boob jobs and more waiting
One of the first questions about my breasts that I was faced with when I met the Consultant at The Marsden, bizarrely, was my cup size!* They are no longer small, they're saggy (having breastfed four children) and somewhat pendulous! But this is good news; with being so physically different from my teenage self (and a trifle rotund to say the least), as I've opted for a lumpectomy it means that there’ll actually still be something left once they’ve done the operation and remove something about the size of a squash ball from my breast. Apparently I can have reconstructive surgery on the other breast at a later date so I don’t look too wonky! Think I may end up with a couple of 16 year old breasts on an old fat 61 year old body which will shortly become totally ravaged by the lack of youthful hormones. Physically and emotionally I know I will never be back to my old self, it's the beginning of the journey and I'm just on the tipping point of being in a place where I can mourn this loss. But a ‘boob job’ on the NHS, who would have thought?!
over when I went to my latest hospital appointment. Of course it wasn't, waiting now for the Ki-67 biopsy information (how fast the cancer cells are growing) and whether I'm still eligible to be included in a clinical trial. Ups and downs.
(*I still don't know what my cup size is)
If you want a recipe to make your own pizza I've posted it up on my cake blog: https://wordpress.com/post/kathiescakes.wordpress.com/741
