My Fight With Cancer

DEDICATION

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This book is dedicated to Dr Melinda cook, Dr Dolly Mittal, Dr Michelle Grogan and all the staff at the Icon Centre in North Lakes, QLD, Australia

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

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Thank you to Julie, Pete, Wendy and Terry for beta reading for me.

Also a huge thank you to everyone who works with cancer patients; doctors, nurses, radiation therapists, volunteers, counsellors, the list goes on.  Thank you for doing what you do.

Diagnosis

I was confused rather than concerned when I rolled over in bed and my hand brushed against a lump at the top of my right breast. As I checked myself regularly, and I’m pretty sure my husband would have felt it a few nights ago, it had come up so quickly it couldn’t be anything serious. Maybe a cyst or some sort of swelling. I had mastitis when I was breastfeeding decades ago so maybe it was something like that. Believing there was nothing to worry about, I went to sleep.

The next morning it was still there and was visible in the mirror. How could I not have felt or seen it earlier?

My regular doctor was a man. Don’t get me wrong, he was good, but for this I wanted to see a woman, so I registered with a new one. She was professional, yet friendly. I explained the situation, expecting to receive antibiotics to make it all go away. Instead, she sent me for an ultrasound.

My husband, Pete, went with me for my scan. I was sure there was nothing to worry about, but I appreciated the support. He was concerned, but hid it well.

Everyone at the imaging centre was great. The lady at the reception desk was efficient and helpful. I was sent for my scan quite quickly, even though I was early. The young woman—when you reach your fifties, everyone under thirty-five seems young—was wonderful, making sure I was comfortable and explaining what she was doing.

She did a thorough job, scanning the entire breast, not just around the lump, and I was soon home, ready to enjoy the rest of my afternoon.

My next appointment with my new doctor also didn’t go as I expected. The scan showed I had a 5 ½ cm lump. Not an infection causing swelling then. The next step was a mammogram and biopsy. My only concern at this point was whether they would remove it if it wasn’t cancer. If it wasn’t causing any harm, would I have to live with it for the rest of my life? I hoped not as, though it wasn’t painful, it did ache and was noticeable. How much of it was in my head because I knew it was there, I had no idea. The doctor assured me the lump would be removed, even if it wasn’t cancerous.

A few days later, I went back to the same imaging centre. I was lucky to get the same young lady to do my mammogram. This wasn’t my first, so I knew what to expect. She did both breasts, just to be safe. The left breast was uncomfortable, but the right one was painful because the machine pressed down on the lump. The technician—I wish I could remember her name—was sympathetic and understanding and got everything done as quickly as possible.

She then prepped me for the biopsy, clearly explaining what was going to happen. I asked if I could watch—yes, I know I’m weird, you don’t have to tell me—and she positioned the screen so I could see it. Have I already mentioned she was wonderful?

She did another ultrasound to confirm exactly where the biopsy needed to be taken and then we waited for the doctor, who turned out to be an elderly gentleman. He was professional, yet friendly, and had a dry sense of humour. The three of us were making joking comments while he swabbed me and injected me with anaesthetic. This was exactly the sort of relaxed atmosphere I needed. I was calm throughout the entire procedure.

I watched the needle to deliver the numbing agent being inserted. It stung a little, but it was okay. The doctor made a small incision. I felt nothing; the anaesthetic had done its job.

Next he inserted the biopsy-collector—I have no idea what the real term is. Before doing so, he demonstrated the clicking sound it would make, so I was prepared.

My eyes were on the screen as the device made its way into the lump in my breast. He took two samples, from different parts of the lump, announcing they were good ones, though I have no idea what he meant by that.

He said goodbye and left me alone with the lovely young technician, who covered my wound and cleaned me up, removing the gel needed for the ultrasound. The entire procedure was relatively quick and painless. I told her how brilliant she was at her job, not just how she went about it but her bedside manner. She apologised for smiling, saying it wasn’t appropriate when the patient is going through a worrisome procedure. I assured her smiling and being friendly rather than serious and clinical was exactly what I needed. Others may disagree.

So, mammogram and biopsy done, I now had to wait for the results. I still wasn’t worried. My husband was, but wasn’t making it obvious.

A few days later I went back to the doctor