BOOBS III

This September will be three years since Ispy was diagnosed with a primary breast cancer in her right breast.

Treatment for breast cancer varies considerably depending on the type of tumour, the stage of the cancer (how far it has progressed), age (ie pre, peri, post menopausal), family and genetic history and context and the sex of the individual (yes men can get breast cancer too).

When Ispy was told that her treatment would consist of surgery to remove the tumour, surrounding tissue and lymph nodes followed by 20 fractions of radiotherapy she wanted to know why chemotherapy wasn’t an option. After all, why not throw everything at the bastard right?

The oncologist explained. He drew a diagram and brought up numerous research papers on his mobile phone. He spent an hour reassuring Ispy that the options being discussed were what was best for her. He explained the significant impact that chemotherapy has on the whole body, ageing all cells and increasing the risks of other health complications. He discussed the potential risks of not having chemotherapy and weighed up the benefits against them. He concluded that, if he was advising his own wife in the exact same scenario, his recommendations would be exactly the same. With a warm smile and a promise to forward the empirical evidence on to Ispy he ended the appointment.

Ispy found the lump on a Sunday and made an appointment the following Monday at her GP surgery. As is common these days, she was seen by an advanced nurse practitioner. This ANP also happened to be a former colleague and one of the school mums.

She examined Ispy and discussed the past high number of breast cysts Ispy had found and her diagnosis of fibrocystic breast disease. It was likely, they both thought, that this was just another cyst. She asked Ispy what she thought. Ispy explained that, though she agreed it probably was just another harmless lump, something just felt different.

A fast track referral was made, ‘just to be on the safe side’ said the lovely ANP.

The following Monday Ispy started a new job. Her appointment at the breast clinic was due on the Thursday and she considered changing it worrying what her new team would think about her taking time out so soon. She had lunch with a new colleague who just happened to say that she was celebrating 10 years post breast cancer treatment that very day. Ispy shared her story and the colleague urged her to keep the appointment.

Ispy started a new job on the Monday, went to clinic and was diagnosed on the Thursday and had surgery a week later. Two weeks into a new job and she was going off sick for an indeterminate period of time. These are just some of the additional factors that are often forgotten.

On the appointment day Ispy knew the process well having been a frequent flier with the one stop breast clinic over 20 years. Quietly reflecting on the number of times she had been and the words echoing in her memory from previous visits ‘for every 100 women who walk in this clinic, 99 will leave without a cancer diagnosis’, she waited in a hideous pink gown (why pink? Black is much more flattering).

Examination by the consultant was a familiar process but something very subtle, almost subliminal, in her eyes confirmed that this lump was different.

Next stop mammogram and again a familiar process. Being not overly gifted in the mammary region this can be an uncomfortable process at the best of times. This time though, having had the mammogram done, she was called back in ‘for a closer look’. At this point Ispy was beginning to feel nauseous, heart pounding and palms sweating. The second ‘closer look’ was followed by ultrasound and biopsy of the lump. Then the sample was whisked off the the lab in the pocket of the health care assistant, an old friend and colleague.

Results would be back by 4pm. It was 12:30… so Ispy went back to work in her new job and returned to clinic as requested at 4:30pm.

No stranger to this process having worked a number of years in a service supporting people through cancer treatment, Ispy knew what to expect. Sitting on the clinic bed the consultant came into the room and sat beside her. Close enough for Ispy to feel her warmth at her side.

“I am afraid it is not what we wanted to be telling you …”

Was all that Ispy heard. All she needed to hear to know, and to confirm her fears. Knowing that her 13 year old daughter was home alone waiting for mum to get tea and talk about her day, Ispy was plunged into a well of white noise and terror. How do you tell your child, or your mother, or your best friend, that you have breast cancer?

To be continued…