As a breast cancer survivor since 2004, I have, as you can imagine, been quite vigilant with checking Bert and Ernie, as I affectionately call the “breasts”.
I have had a couple of scares within that time and was tested last year for the BRAC gene.
Not only do I not have the gene, I was actually told I was cured. Cured. Yes. Oh you wont get breast cancer again I think were the words actually used.
Coming from someone who I thought was meant to known these things, ie my consultant, I felt confident that it would be true.
Clearly “cured” does not mean what I thought it did….
Just when you thought it was safe to go back to the breast clinic...
At my annual breast clinic check-up, I was surprised to be told that an existing cyst was causing my consultant and radiographer some concern, especially since my mammogram has been clear.
Because of the “ummm I don’t know…”, my consultant decided that I should have an ultrasound too. Oh goody.
So, there I was half naked and covered in freezing cold gel and some biro where X marks the spot, whilst my consultant and radiographer huddled around scans of my boobs mumbling to themselves.
‘They’re just comparing the ultrasound to last years’ the nurse said. Bless her for trying.
Uh huh. Nope. I don’t think so.
‘Something has changed’ they said.
We’ll do a biopsy’ they said.
‘Not overly worried though’ they said.
They were wrong.
Not just a cyst then...
When I went back two weeks later for the results, I knew. That heavy nauseous feeling in your gut that you do not dare ignore. I took Hubby with me as I really didn’t want to go alone. He was convinced we had been through enough crap that there was no chance in hell this would be bad news.
But I knew.
When my consultant told me, I just nodded. Hubby cried. That shocked me more.
Here we go again
So, I have breast cancer. Again.
I hope in the previous lives where I was very bad that I also had an amazing time!!!
Not a recurrence, a different breast this time so at least they may now look even….
But of course, rather than be straightforward, my cancer isn’t playing by the normal rules. No. The biopsy results do not match the ultrasound. Say what?
In laymans terms, I have a lump but the biopsy shows a cancer that doesn’t form lumps.
Of course it doesn’t.
So excitingly, I get to have a breast MRI!! Who knew that was a thing? I got to lie on my stomach, with Bert and Ernie flopping down so that they can be MRI’d all around. Now the downside is that these MRIs often show things that haven’t been made obvious before, resulting in more biopsies. Yipee – something more to look forward to.
As it happens, Bert and Ernie both played ball. Nothing else was revealed, just the one “slippery little sucker”. But guess what?? Still not matching the blooming biopsies!!
Seriously, how many biopsies can one breast take?
So now more biopsies but under a mammogram. Ernie is beginning to resemble a pin cushion. This is getting exciting now! Dear lord. I didn’t realise there could be so much pain. The squishing is uncomfortable but add to that the stabbing with a needle the size of the ice pick used in Fatal Attraction… well you get the picture.
And then we are done. No more tests. Just waiting.
I always told myself that if I ever had cancer again, I would do a blog. This was not, however, an invitation….
But here it is.
