Just a little scratch- Sharon’s Story, Part One
Written by Sharon Smith
I remember going to my first mammogram, which was my 3rd appointment but due to covid they had been cancelled. I did the obligatory thing and asked ladies who had experienced a mammogram, what was it like, did it hurt, I am a baby when it comes to anything painful.
I remember how cold it was as the mammogram screening was done in a trailer in a car park, I walk past it everyday on my way to work. I look at it very differently now when I pass. Stripped off to the waist and so it began ‘how long have you had an inverted nipple’ the radiologists asked, “as long as I can remember” I replied, and they were the only words spoken. On my return to work, I quizzed my colleagues “what do you think she meant? isn’t that normal”, “have you got an inverted nipple “ I asked, at 53 years old I am ashamed to admit how naive I was about breast cancer. I was always told check yourself, which I did, no lump, no cancer, nor any other changes. So I put the comment to the back of my mind, fast forwarding two weeks.
It was Halloween weekend, and I was going to pick up my Halloween costume, it was a Friday afternoon. I picked up the post after work, jumped in the car, my partner Mark was driving, so chatted to him about the fancy dress and whilst doing so opened my post…. Results of your recent mammogram show something that needs further investigation, come in Monday 4.00pm, I kept reading it but not taking it in.
What had they seen, was this normal? I rang my friend who had had several mammograms to see if this was normal, she said she had never been called back. The heat started to well up in my chest, I could feel my face burning, Mark was trying to calm me saying “it is just routine, they are just being thorough”. I decided to ring the number on the letter and get it straight from the horse’s mouth.
A nurse answered, and I threw a hundred questions at her in seconds, she had a calming voice and explained, yes, they had discovered a mass in my left breast, and I would need a further examination. I could feel hot tears run down my face while she was talking to me. So, the wait all weekend felt like an eternity.
Monday came, all I will say is I was numb. I arrived at the clinic with my partner, not a word was spoken throughout the journey. On the 3rd floor, we sat in the waiting area ‘Sharon Smith’ the nurse called. I was now on auto pilot, I went into a clinical room, more mammograms, then sat in the hallway. The Dr then called me in. “I am sorry to say we have found a large lump in your right breast, and clusters of calcifications in your left breast”. “Ok, what now” I said, that’s all I could muster, I wasn’t scared or panicky, which is a surprise because I usually panic if I break a nail. “A biopsy”, the Dr said. “When will I have to come back for that?” not realising she was going to do it there and then. It’s like going to the dentist for a routine check-up and they decide to do an extraction. I wasn’t prepared, I needed to prepare for pain, never mind they were looking for cancer I was more bothered about how this would hurt. As I said earlier, I am a baby when it comes to pain. So, after much persuading from the doctor I had 3 biopsies in my right breast, and 13 biopsies in my left breast done by the machine (if am honest they weren’t actually that bad, but I was wailing as usual)
I was told the results would take 2 weeks; I would be called back.
Upon leaving the building, a breast cancer nurse asked me which hospital I would like to go to If needed, I said Eastbourne, THAT’S WHEN I KNEW I HAD CANCER……
I went home and found the UK breast cancer support group online typing in the word cancer, this made the hot tears fall, why me? The year had been a bad one, my partner had been in a coma due to covid, and I was isolated, then I developed sepsis due to a recent op, and now cancer, well they say it comes in 3’s.
Two weeks later it was confirmed, I had bilateral cancer. The Dr delivered the bad news to me, I thanked him and said goodbye. I had taken a friend with me; I think she was more shocked than me. I went straight into “survival mode”, the breast cancer nurse followed me out and took me into a side room and said “I don’t think you’re taking this in. YOU HAVE CANCER” I just wanted to get out of the building and get as far away as I could. It was almost like the cancer wouldn’t exist, if I was away from the building, nuts right, but that was my logic at the time. We went to the nearest pub; I had a large brandy. I went home and cried buckets, not for me but for my children, I have 2 boys and grandchildren, I cried for Mark, and my sisters, piling on all this pressure on myself for the impact it would have on them, that is when I think I started to disassociate myself from cancer, running away from it as I did within the building where it was confirmed. I can say this now but at the time it was like I was a robot, throwing myself into work. It was November and I was getting ready to open a new store so lots to do.
Two weeks after the confirmation I was called back to the clinic for VAE (Vacuum Assisted Exertion) the less said about that the better (the nurse performing it had to lay in a dark room for an hour after, I don’t like pain). This was done on my left breast due to the calcifications and an additional 13 biopsies were taken through the VAE. The results of this then confirmed that I had grade 3 Cancer.
During this time, work was my way of burying my head in the sand not thinking, not feeling, until I would wake at 2 am and cry and cry for me, alone with my thoughts, alone to think what could happen, my prognosis, the reality, then the morning would come, and cancer was put back in its box, so the working day began.
Then another 2 weeks wait to find out the stage of cancer, which was a grade 2, all this was flying around my head, I remember sitting in the waiting room alone. I was the only one in there, that’s when cancer would climb out of the boxes and fear would take over, utter panic. I received my results and went back to work not giving it any time to digest, feel or think. Back to work, back to my comfort zone where cancer wasn’t there in my mind.
I researched and researched and spoke with lots of brave ladies going through and surviving this disease. Letters were flying about with diagnoses, all in gobble gook to me so I would google them to find out what they meant and translate them.
36mm of grade 2 invasive Ductal cancer in the right.
Grade 3, 2.5 mm invasive Ductal cancer associated with DCIS.
Both cancers ER/PR positive and HER2negative
So now, all the tests and results were in. It was time to meet the man who would treat me, to learn my next steps. “Meeting my Surgeon” will be Part 2 of my blog early next year 2024.
