Me and the Big C

I’m a reasonably fit and very active person - I have a fairly demanding day job as Head of Delivery for Greater London Authority, a lovely blended family of five and two cats and lots of great and supportive friends. I watch what I eat, do HIIT exercises twice a week as part of a neighbourhood bootcamp and I run twice a week, I even ran a marathon in the Autumn of 2018.

So you can imagine my horror and disbelief when I was diagnosed with breast cancer on the 4th May 2023. It's scary and a difficult thing to admit in a very public forum like this and feels so surreal, but I have come to the conclusion that sharing my experience in this way makes it feel like I can give what has happened to me, what I am living through, some purpose.

I felt a lump in my left breast as I was self checking my breasts while lying down flat in my bed before falling asleep one Saturday evening at the beginning of April 2023, I contacted my GP the following Monday and I was referred to the cancer pathway and with that my breast cancer journey began.

I was absolutely terrified, I kept aking myself - how did I miss this? I monthly self examine my breasts and I know I have lumpy ones - especially around my period - but that one felt different, it was like having a grape in my breast.

The couple of weeks’ wait between finding my lump and getting my appointment at the breast care clinic was categorically hornados, I spent sleepless nights researching everything there is on breast lumps and breast cancer. I remember all I kept doing while waiting for my appointment at the breast clinic was googling and touching my lump, and I knew it was not helping but what else could I have done?

In mid April, the breast clinic consultant ordered an ultrasound, which led to a mammogram followed by an MRI and then an emergency triple biopsy. I had a stage two invasive ductal carcinoma.

For someone that was pretty healthy before this and had barely taken a paracetamol, it was a very terrifying and shocking experience to immediately feel so vulnerable, I walked out of the breast clinic with a big bag full of pamphlets about breast cancer, the surgery, support groups and a heart shaped pillow (for my post surgery recovery) and with that I started my membership of the cancer club, a club I never asked to join.

Life changes in the blink of an eye, and decisions sometimes have to be made instantly and with very little time to process what they actually mean. My diary had never been busier than when I was diagnosed with Breast Cancer. Doctors’ appointments, multiple scans, surgery appointments, chemotherapy, regular blood tests, radiotherapy, physiotherapy, follow ups, more scans…the list goes on.

By June I had a therapeutic mammoplasty surgery (a breast reduction surgery to remove the cancer from my left breast, reduce and reshape the size of my right breast to make them more symmetrical) with a full axillary left lymph node clearance, an operation that took just under 5 hours. The operation went well but I was left struggling with a couple of common postoperative complications. The first one called Seroma - a build-up of clear fluid under my left armpit that needed to be drained regularly. The second one is Cording - an uncomfortable feeling, like a tight cord running from my left armpit to my hand.

The seroma sorted itself out a few weeks after my surgery but I had to go to physiotherapy for three months to help with my cording.

I'm starting to get used to these unplanned hurdles on my healing journey. For the last few months I have not had any control. It's like being on a rollercoaster ride that I didn't ask to get on and it just won't stop. Which let me tell you is very hard when you are a type-A project manager like me, not having any control over the trajectory of my life and putting all my faith in a medical team to call all the shots – no matter how competent they are – is hard.

By July my Oncologist agreed my treatment plan; chemotherapy, followed by radiation then hormone (endocrine) therapy - starting from mid-August. I think the word ‘chemo’ scares me just as much as the word ‘cancer’, if I’m being honest. Still, I need to continue to remind myself to count my blessings that my cancer was caught in time for it to be treatable. I was one of the lucky ones. And all my bad days amount to living a long life. And a long life means I'll get to repay the debt of kindness I've received on my healing journey from my family and friends and pay it forward to whoever needs it next.

Please self-check regularly, and get anything anywhere on your body you aren’t sure about checked out by your doctor early. And prioritise your health over everything else in your busy schedules. If you do, then my sharing this will have meant something.

I was in my mid-forties when this tumour formed. I have no history of breast cancer in my family. Cancer may feel improbable, but it's still very possible.