So with my first mammogram over and done with and a good result I kinda just got on with life. I did think about the word ‘cancer’ every day, and obviously I was looking at my now weird-ass boob but that was ok. I felt lucky to have a husband who cared about me, and was just worried I was ok, rather than being bothered about how I looked.
I was back at work, where the girls and all the customers were really supportive and caring. It was really the best place for me to be as it gave me something else to think about. I had several hospital appointments during the following year which all went really well. Everyone seemed to be really positive and so I was too. We went on holiday to the States and had a wonderful, relaxed time with family but my second year mammogram appointment was only a few days after we got back and I just knew in the back of my mind that something was wrong.
A week after the mammogram a fat letter came through the post, and I immediately knew it was bad news. Sure enough, I had been called in for a biopsy on the same breast. Everything happened extremely quickly, I had the biopsy a few days later and they told me then and there it didn’t look like it was great news. I remember walking back out to the hospital café and seeing James’ face and just crumbling. All I could do was shake my head. Do you know how hard it is to cry together in the middle of Costa??? At least there was a plentiful supply of napkins, which aren’t terribly soft by the way!
Once again we were back at home telling the kids that my cancer had come back. I knew at that point that I would have to have a mastectomy so we told them that too. Our autistic son just looked at me and James and said, “Well that’s not going to be much fun for dad”. It was the best thing he could have said because we both roared with laughter and said, “we hadn’t thought of that!”.
Love Gemma xx