On the day of my follow up appointment. I planned to go alone.
There was a lot of activity. A repeat mammogram. A scan and then biopsy followed by a further mammogram to check the marker clip was positioned correctly. It all felt very production-line like
The consultant who undertook the scan and biopsy said that the lump "looked suspicious". It appeared to be 16mm.
As I lay there, while the nurse was cleaning me up and putting a dressing on. I felt tears gathering in my eyes and rolling down my face. What was going to become of me? Was I going to die? I was 58 and had been enjoying life so much.
At the end of it all, my results appointment was booked for the following week, 8 days later.
As the nurse explained next steps she could see how scared I was. She tried to offer me some reassurance, saying that if it was cancer, it was caught early and was a very small mass.
I arranged to meet my sister that evening and I told her all. It was a huge relief. My sister and I are extremely close and have always been each other's main support. Yet at the same time, I felt guilty. I knew how much she was struggling with the loss of her son.
