There’s not much left to tell, but I’m conscious that in typical fashion, I’ve told this story the wrong way round, beginning at the end (almost) and as we approach the end, going back to the beginning. In the few days left, I hope to cover those things that I've been asked and haven't yet answered here.
The first is, what made you act to go to the doctor? How did you know?
Most of us are responsive to the education around breast cancer, have read the leaflets and posters and dutifully check for changes: lumps, bumps, shape and colour.
It occurred to me in the early weeks of March 2011 that for some time there had been a pain across the left-hand side of my entire chest. How long had it been there? I wondered. It felt like a time-of –the-month ache, but had gone on for well over a month. There were no other signs according to the check list and I felt completely well. Still, we are told that if we are worried in these matters to book an appointment with the GP and I did just that. A week or so later I had my appointment on 31 March.
When I was a four-year-old prodigy with a promising career as a hypochondriac, there were times I’d complain I’d got some sort of ache or pain and in those days when we had neither phone nor car, within hours my mum would have my coat on and be trooping me off to the doctor. Some time along the way I’d wonder where the pain had gone but we'd trudge the rest of the boring journey, wait in the dull room and be subjected to probes and discomfort. I couldn’t help but wonder, as I left work early to make the 4pm appointment, whether this was the little hypochondriac re-surfacing. I also had the sneaky feeling that I’d over-exercised with arm weights in the anti-bingo-wings-for-the-summer campaign I had been engaged in since Christmas. I’d forgotten how easy it was to strain muscles and for them to take time to heal. "I’m probably taking an appointment away from a really sick person as a result of my over-eager, vanity-inspired activity." I thought as I parked the car outside the surgery.
As an infrequent visitor to the medical centre, guilt gave way to pondering how it had happened that all doctors were now younger than me.
“I can detect a very small lump,” Youth declared, having completed the examination. “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about but just to be sure I’ll make an appointment for you at the breast clinic.”
Oh well, at least I hadn’t wasted his time, I thought, as I went back to the car and was pleased the appointment was over early enough to grab half a pizza and take my son to his 6pm kick-off. Children's football has long given me a wonderful excuse to be in the open air after work and I welcomed this chance to enjoy the lengthening Spring evening. They were playing a team with a previous history of intense rivalry so full-on support was required.
“I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about,” I told my husband when we finally got home and had time to discuss the appointment, unaware of the blissful ignorance I would live in for a further month.
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