On the 10th May this year (2017), I started on a journey. It's not really a journey that I intended to take, however, fate has set me on this journey; and I have absolutely no choice other than to follow it.
About seven to eight weeks before the 10th May, I had a sore tit! A sore right tit! Sore enough that I didn't want to take my bra off in the evening. Now, as most women know, there is nothing nicer than getting home in the evening and taking your bra off, slipping into nice comfy clothes, knowing that you don't have to venture outside again. Sometimes, I have gone out, to pick up my daughter from rehearsals etc, with no bra, and it s always a bit of a gamble as to whether you meet anyone or have to get out of the car. So, there's me unable to take my bra off, without it, my boob feels heavy, sore and vulnerable. Of course, I made an appointment to see the GP, but just as the appointment approaches, I get a period and instantly the pain is gone! Appointment duly cancelled.
Now, I know you are thinking - did you check for lumps? Errr well no. The thing is I may be a Nurse, but I have a massive issue with touching my own tits! I like them to be touched, I admire everyone else's; but touch and feel my own - just can't do it! I have tried, but when I do, I start to feel slightly sick. So, no I hadn't. Well, the period finishes and literally ten minutes after, my tit hurts again! So, being sensible, I call the GP surgery back, and book another appointment. Appointment approaches, and blow me down - another period. Pain stops. However, this time I keep the appointment and discuss the fact that I have now had two periods in three weeks, most unusual for me, a 28 day to the minute girl.
The GP agrees to run some blood tests to see if I am entering the Menopause. I vaguely mention the sore tit, but clarify it's stopped being painful again due to period. I also throw in a request to check my fasting blood sugar and cholesterol, as I have been at Slimming World for the last three months and have successfully shed almost three stone! So, with the help of a colleague, bloods are taken and sent off. Meanwhile period two has given finished and tit pain is back! So, I make another GP appointment for the blood results and to definitely mention the tit pain.
Now, at this point, I have lightly brushed the surface of said right tit, and I can feel a lump. It's small, it's right on the top, but it's there. I can't see it, but it's there. I tell Van and get her to feel it, but she doesn't think she can, but it's there.
So back to the GP Surgery, it's a different GP and judging by his age, I think he is probably a locum. He's nice though. I explain the tit pain first and very quickly, I am topless, raising my arms up, down to the side. Then he has a feel. Yes, he can feel my lump but it doesn't fee like cancer, but just to be safe he will refer me to the breast clinic. Now, at this point I am not particularly worried, until I ask for my blood test results and he says "the results are the least of your worries right now." Shit!
It's a Bank Holiday weekend, so I don't hear anything until the GP receptionist calls to ask where I would like to be referred to? Hillingdon Hospital? I agree to this as it's my local hospital, it's also where I did a large number of my student nurse placements, but I like it, it's familiar, I had two children there! So, I finally get my appointment, Monday 15th May at 2:20pm.
Surprisingly, for me, anyway I am very calm and not particularly worried, which is odd for me as I worry about EVERYTHING! Van and I have a lovely day out in Canterbury, where we commission our wedding rings (oh, yeah. Did I mention, I'm marrying my best friend, my soulmate and the most gorgeous woman in the world on Sunday 17th September; hence the Slimming World! No one want to see two fat lesbians getting hitched!). We spend the weekend chatting about our plans, I meet my older daughter, Grace for a walk on Sunday with the dog, do a bit of housework and generally chill. Obviously I am still wearing my bra 24/7, but I seem to be getting used to that.
Monday morning I go to work. I'm planning on going to the hospital on my own, I made Van promise she will come to the next appointment when I presume I will get any results. But, I'm only gone an hour and she phones to tell me she is coming with me, partly because she fancies a day off work! I don't think I talk much, we go to the familiar Hillingdon Hospital and park easily, which in itself is a miracle. Straight up to the 3rd floor, check in and into the waiting room. It only seems like seconds that I'm called through. I'm asked to remove all clothing from the waist up, including my comforting bra and to put a gown on. Then in pops the Doc; to be fair he is a Breast Consultant, he's very nice and tells me he is going to examine me. Now, I don't know how he did it, but it's like his hand and that lump we're both magnets, he immediately touched the lump. He was very thorough, to the point that I thought I may be sick (see earlier note re tit touching). Then he was done.
He confirmed that he could feel a lump, so the next step was a (the dreaded) mammogram followed by an ultrasound, he also told me that they may attempt a fine needle aspirate, if they were concerned. The dreaded mammogram wasn't as bad as I thought it might be, I mean it's not fun; but it was okay. However, glancing at the screen I could clearly see a white solid mass in my right tit. So, then I am whisked in for an ultrasound, carried out by another Consultant! Although she's lovely my sore tit is now getting really fed up. Just as I think she's done, she announces she needs to take a biopsy. This involves a needle, a local anesthetic (just like at the Dentist, have I told you I'm dental phobic?) A very kind Radiologist holds my hand, I squeeze my eyes shut and attempt to zone out whilst all this takes place. Fuck! It hurts. To be fair, they are both great and before I know it I'm getting dressed and sporting a big plaster and a stitch or two.
Poor Van has been in the waiting room the whole time, she wanted to come with me, but to be honest, I would have been even more of a baby with her there. We chatted aimlessly and I tried not to think too much. After about twenty minutes, my name was called again, by someone new - she introduced herself as a Breast Care Nurse. Now at this precise moment I knew I was fucked! Consultants only have Nurses of this level present when the are about to deliver bad news (drawback of being a Nurse, especially one who spent two years on a female cancer care ward, you know too much!) So Van and I trot along behind her, Van oblivious to my impending fate.
So, we are back with original "tit feeling" Consultant, who explains that the results from the biopsy will take a week, but and this is a big fucking but, he is pretty sure I have breast cancer! Fuck!
The good news? It's not in my lymph nodes, it's very small 1.7mm, it's early. The. As news? It's still bloody breast cancer. I then admit to my somewhat rusty, limited Oncology knowledge. He discusses stuff like MDTs, results and is so lovely, but it's still breast cancer. Van is really tearful and I know she asks some questions but I have no idea what they are. The Breast Nurse Specialist then whips us into a little room, that is without doubt, the bad news room. I explain to her that my only concern is Hannah. Hannah, my fifteen year old gorgeous daughter, who has just started her GCSEs today! Her GCSEs that run from today until the 23rd June, her GCSEs that she has been predicted As and A*s, my beautiful daughter with whom I totally adore, who has three or four friends who have all lost their mothers to Cancer, my daughter who cries every day anyway. Van and I agree that there is absolutely no way that she can know about this until her GCSEs are done. Maybe by then, the stupid lump will have been removed and I can just tell her afterwards?
Van cries a bit more, I'm having an out of body experience and just watching this happen. I'm given an appointment for next Tuesday morning, when results and treatment plans will be discussed and we are free to leave. Me, Van and stupid breast cancer. And I've begun a journey.
