Diagnosis

There was just over a week between my initial appointment at the cancer care clinic and the follow up to receive the results of the biopsies. It was a tough week. I found myself not able to think straight or concentrate and found myself crying at the slightest thing.

Immediately after the initial appointment I came home with Simon and my Mum. I took some codeine for the pain following the biopsy, which turned out to be a big mistake, as it doesn't always react well with my stomach. So it made me quite ill, and then I went into shock. Which was fun.

I mostly stayed in the house for that week, but we went to stay with my parents for the weekend, and my Mum returned with us on the Sunday night to keep me company until the appointment came around. She kept me sane during the last few days, which were the worst, and also meant that she could come to the follow up appointment as well.

So, the diagnosis.

My appointment was for 10am on Wednesday. That's 10am in NHS time, so I actually saw the doctor around 11. The first thing I noticed when I booked into the appointment was that my files were now in a pink folder, rather than a clear folder that they were in the previous week. I was also put into a different queue than some of the other people coming into the clinic. I guessed correctly that this did not bode well. Panic began to set in.

One of the nurses came over just before 11, and asked me to go with her. She explained that I would be seeing a different doctor from last week, who I happened to know (having done some research beforehand) was one of the surgeons. Again, not a great sign. We waited (Simon, Mum and I) in a different little waiting area to be called through. When we were, it was the breast care nurse who called us in, and in addition to her and the surgeon (also a lady), there was another nurse.

My surgeon, Ms Predolac, sat me down, looked me straight in the eye, and immediately told me that "it's not good news". Although they had only found pre-cancerous cells in the breast lump, the biopsy of the lymph nodes showed fully cancerous cells. This means that there are fully cancerous cells in the breast tumour, but they haven't been found yet. As such, although she could tell me that the cancer is invasive, without further tests, she was not able to give me much further information about type/prognosis etc. However, given the results so far, my most likely course of treatment will be chemotherapy, followed by surgery (mastectomy + lymph node clearance), followed by radiotherapy - so I get the full house of treatments.

(If there is no cancer in the lymph nodes, chemo is not necessary. Chemo usually comes after surgery if they are not sure if the lymph nodes are affected, but as they know with me, it is best to start with the chemo straight away to catch any pesky cancer cells that may have spread anywhere else.)

I like my surgeon, she is very straightforward and explains things precisely, clearly and without talking down to you. I think I took the news quite well, considering. She explained that I'll need some further tests - specifically an MRI scan, CT scan, bone scan and blood tests, which will be able to tell them more about the cancer, and will help to determine exactly what my treatment will be. She then examined me, and the three of us were taken into a little sitting room to digest the news, accompanied by the breast care nurse.

Unsurprisingly, it was a lot to take in, and it's at this point that I broke down in tears. Simon went into shock and my Mum's face was grey. I think that experiencing their reaction was actually more upsetting to me than the diagnosis itself. A lot of people say after a diagnosis like this, that they knew already that it was going to be bad news. I didn't, it was a big shock, but one I'd also had the two weeks since finding the lump to start to digest as a possibility, so it wasn't as big a shock as it might have been.

Anne-Marie the breast care nurse was truly lovely. She set up all my appointments and gave us some information leaflets and generally was just there for all of us. She'll be my nurse through the whole process and I'm glad. I'm also happy with my surgeon, either she understands how different people work and take in information, or she happened to deliver the information I needed in the manner I happen to respond best to (facts and data).

I'm devastated by the diagnosis, and frustrated that I don't have all the information yet. I think weirdly though that it is easier for it to be happening to me than happening to someone else I love. It's something other people have said to me as well, and having also watched Mum go through this it seems to bear out. I can rationalise something happening to me better than I can when it's someone else, there are fewer unknowns for a start - I know how I'm feeling for a start. The very worst point of a very difficult day was when I was sat next to my Mum as she rang and told my Dad. I was close enough that I could hear his heart breaking over the phone.