To the man on the train

Author: Anonymous

The idea for this post came about when I found myself sitting between several people reading an article about the ‘No Less a Woman’ campaign (in which I feature). I imagined myself having a conversation around some of the - upsetting - comments I later saw posted about the article.

Man on the Train

I was sitting next to you on the District Line last Wednesday, reading the Evening Standard over your shoulder. I know it was irritating – sorry. I just couldn’t help myself. I saw my topless photograph on page 11 in the article about ‘No Less a Woman’ - the collaboration by Stella McCartney and Laura Dodsworth to highlight breast cancer awareness. It’s not every day you see a picture of yourself half-naked in the newspaper! I blushed didn’t I? It sounds crazy, but there was this awful split-second before I realised that neither you, nor anyone else in the carriage would know that I was one of the three women in the article because our identities were not revealed.

I noticed that you looked at the images for a long time. It’s okay to be curious. We wanted you to know what mastectomy scars look like; to better understand the impact of breast surgery on women’s bodies. Sadly, not everyone gets to have neat scars and beautifully reconstructed breasts despite the wonderful advances in surgery. Not everyone can have a tattoo over their scar. Radiation treatment, for instance, can cause invisible, but long-term damage to the skin.

It didn’t cross your mind that you were sitting next to one of the women in the feature? You didn’t think I looked like I had breast cancer? It’s hard, but we all need to remember to try not to make assumptions about how people look, sometimes people can be ill, even when they look great. 

You can’t understand why I wanted to show my scars? To be honest, I would never have agreed to have a topless photo before I had breast cancer. I took my breasts for granted. I didn’t see them as emblematic of my womanhood and femininity. I was sad to say good-bye to them when I decided to have risk-reducing surgery but when a reconstruction failed, and I got cancer again, I was devastated. Around 1 in 8 women in this country will develop breast cancer and 11, 000 women still die every year. I heard cancer described as ‘sexy.’ I hope these images will help people to understand that cancer is not sexy and they will have a better appreciation of this disease. 

I worry that my daughter’s generation will struggle to develop a healthy relationship with their bodies if they are only surrounded by airbrushed images of idealised women. I worry that we are in danger of denying the truth of who we are if we carry on holding such unrealistic expectations, not just about our breasts, but about our bodies and the control we imagine we have over them. 

Please don’t call me ‘brave.’ I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. But if you must feel pity, turn that emotion into a verb – do something to help, even if it’s just making a donation to charity.

Were you shocked? If you were, then it gives you some insight into how I felt for a long time. Nudity is something of a taboo in our culture, but to bare an imperfect body, a scarred body, feels like the final taboo, one that I wanted to shatter by showing off my body in all its flawed glory. My scars might be hidden from you, but I see them and they tell the story of my body, of my courage and strength. 

 http://www.stellamccartney.com/gb/lingerie_section

Breast cancer awareness month: Tales of asymmetry, dating and always looking on the bright side...

Author: Alison G

To the left, to the left … All the single ladies, all the single ladies…

Yes, I am a fan of Beyoncé, but these lyrics also have a lot more meaning, which I’d like to share with you in my unique take on life as an asymmetrical woman.

So, there was a film on recently, in it a man takes an earth shatteringly beautiful woman home after picking her up in a club. They get back to his room and he confesses, he was umm exaggerating about the size of his body part. She laughs and says, ‘Don’t worry, let’s be real.’ She then takes out her contact lens, then whips off her wig….he gasps…..next come her boobs, he attempts to leave, and I kid you not, followed by her bottom and lastly leg.

I’m not quite sure what was funny in this after all, as hang on just a few years back this could be me.

 
Breast cancer can have you feeling like the incredible detachable woman

Just 4 years ago my body was in symmetry, my body parts could have lined up two by two, to jump on board Noah’s Ark.  Two eyebrows check, two boobs check…

In May 2012, aged 40 and full of life and mischief, my life was interrupted by a shock diagnosis of an unknown primary tumour that had metastasized (spread to you and I) to my lymph nodes. The next two weeks were largely spent in hospital gowns, having every available test, chemical cocktail and radioactive power being charged through my confused body. Every day I woke up hoping this was a bad dream and put on a brave face to all those I loved. After 2 weeks it was confirmed as Breast Cancer.

I would say I was fortunate that I had 5 weeks from my diagnosis until my mastectomy, it gave me time to absorb this information, and actively search images to see what this would mean. I can’t imagine how difficult it would feel to be given a diagnosis on Monday and operated on Wednesday. I needed time to understand just what the heck was happening. So I remain grateful circumstances enabled this (my surgeon being on holiday).

Have you ever seen a mastectomy image? I hadn’t, so I educated myself and told myself, ‘You’re going to need to love this new you, as you might be like it a long time, if not forever’

After being told I had cancer I wasn’t offered immediate reconstruction, not everyone is, it depends on the type of treatment you need afterwards, I had a locally advanced cancer which appeared aggressive so they wanted to whip it off as soon as possible, before blasting me with chemotherapy and radiotherapy. By the way it is annoying when people say, ‘so and so had reconstruction immediately, why haven’t you?’ Or ‘so and so had recon and now has amazing boobs and a flat stomach' – yawnnnnn.

I had time to prepare and cope with being left asymmetrical, and predictably my humour emerged as a coping strategy. I planned a Bon Voyage Booby Party, where with good friends we celebrated the imminent departure of my left boob, playing snap, match the boobs, eating chocolate nipples. Jelly boobs and all members dressed with fake boobs, the best being the old lady sock boobs that made passers-by imagine we were a Hen Night. For me laughter is the breast cure …

I had a blog 2theleft, where I could express my feelings, and a closed Facebook group for my close friends and family, which was usually filled with images, and articles. Many might think my humour tasteless, but it worked for me. We made a playlist….’to the left’ obviously made the list, so did ‘Gone’ – Nsync, ‘Man I feel like a Woman’. Tasteless and tacky yes, but a way of helping me and those closest to me to cope with the shock of what had happened.

You don’t necessary jump up and fully embrace your asymmetrical look, for some women it can take weeks, months or even years to accept and embrace this change. For me, I made it my mission to love my lop-sidedness. I wanted to see the scar as soon as possible, and joked with the surgeon by turning one side I was 7lb lighter. Not sure she found this as amusing – she did make me wear a straight jacket for a while! I jest….

I wanted to accept the new me, and considered without my left breast I could place my hand on the bony landscape where a boob used to exist and feel my heart beating away, it’s kind of comforting. I mulled that it perhaps would make me more vulnerable, and open to love. Hmmm we’ll come back to that.

It’s not easy being asymmetrical, your body wants to compensate for the shift and balance. Dressing is different, you have to change the way your dress so that your prosthesis doesn’t fall out, or appear over the top of your clothing giving away your secret. Initially you have a softie, that you can squeeze into shape and then after your scar settles you graduate to a silicon prosthesis that sits inside your bra and feels like a real breast. It certainly intrigues most people who feel it, it’s like a boob shaped stress ball. A heavy one.

Perks of asymmetry…

You have Go Go Gadget Boobs, I have a different one to swim, a different one in the summer – I’m sure I could have a special one for nights out even with a sequined nipple if I searched the internet.

But obviously you have no sensation, so if someone slams a door on my left boob I look blankly at them, or if someone nudges me by accident and flushes expecting a reprimand…they are surprised that I probably didn’t even notice. Or and if it’s cold my right nipple will respond, and not my left – which is obviously AWOL. I think people are too polite to mention this.

Going through airport customs or being searched to get into a club or concert will have a little doubt – imagine they realise it’s a fake boob and then think I’m a drugs mule, or female impersonator. The ping of an elastic glove can have me running faster that Bolt.

Women joke about finishing work and removing their bras, I can go one up on this, by coming home and whipping my boob off. I never thought at 40 I’d be going to bed with my boob nestled beside me in its only little pillow. Will be my teeth next?

If there is a strong breeze in the office I can whip it off and it becomes a paperweight …or if a conversation with a potential date isn’t going well I take it off and end the night…. OK the last two are fictitious, but what a thought though.

The lows…

At first I’d be self-conscious going boob less even around my kids, but during chemo and radiotherapy I lost that, along with all my hair, including nasal hair, eyelashes, eyebrows, toe nails and finger nails. I didn’t lose weight though, no steroids and chemotherapy bloated my body and the scales went up by 9kg. How’s that even fair?

Ending 2012 I felt absolutely repulsive to all, including myself sadly. In public wearing a wig, and being fully dressed I might have the occasional guy smile at me and I’d drop my eyes feeling a fraud. Thinking if you saw me underneath this you’d certainly not give me the same appreciative glance.  The toll of the diagnosis and treatment can grind you down, I didn’t want to focus on how bad I looked, or felt, and instead focused on finishing all treatment and getting back in the gym.

Being stripped of all things that you define as making you feel feminine is extremely difficult. Every day we are bombarded with beautiful celebrities and images of ‘perfection’ I can safely say I felt offended by society’s ideal of beauty at this point in my life and had serious eyebrow envy.

Don’t worry it will grow back ………

Well my boob won’t, unless I am a strange mutation after all.  Hair – yes, but let me tell you growing back from bald is the longest wait of your life.

The year following active treatment ended my confidence, that had initially soared for seeing off cancer and having No Evidence of Disease (NED) dropped as reality took over, feeling uncomfortable with the no style short style hair, the traitorous eyebrows that never grew back and my stubby eyelashes, oh and hard to shake Tamoxifen pounds I wanted to hibernate.

Between 2012 and 2014 every woman seemed to have HD eyebrows, doubly long lashes and waist length hair.  I had a pair of eyebrows drawn on with a sharpie – to stop them rubbing off, and slow growing chemo curls.

Don’t hate, appreciate….

In truth your body is a miracle, just as it can stretch and accommodate a growing baby, it can defragment from cancer treatment and pull back together.

It’s not even 3 years since I finished chemo and I have hair I can flick, and twirl round my fingers, and hide behind again, oh boy that feels good. To reassure anyone currently in treatment, no product advertised makes it grow faster or thicker, it just takes time. Obviously my nails grew back, my eyelashes too, not as full as they were before but that’s a potential side effect of being thrust into a premature menopause from Tamoxifen.

It’s widely reported that women diagnosed with breast cancer face high rates of anxiety, depression and decreased self-esteem. Whilst going through treatment everyone is behind you regarding you a hero for battling the bad C word. Once the active treatment ends, you are left piecing back together your life and body parts potentially.

I am always saddened when I read about women who feel they have been ‘mutilated’ and can’t look at their scars. Women whose partners or husbands leave them as they too can’t cope with the physical, psychological and emotional changes that cancer leaves you with.

I was dating prior to my diagnosis, and I haven’t since. Why? I consider this a process that I’ve been working through, I had to work through loving me fully and wholly first. Guess also after all I’ve been through this hasn’t actually been a priority – a) Beat Cancer b) get a boyfriend.

Ok admittedly perhaps I was too fearful to show my vulnerability and face rejection for exposing my own unique lopsided beauty before now. It all takes time. For anyone else in the minority, as it certainly feels that ‘being single during cancer or beyond’ is a minority, when you read the thousands of threads praising loving husbands, Hang in there.  People will tell you that, ‘someone who really loves you won’t care.’  The person who probably said that wasn’t single!!

My advice – be your own cheerleader, love yourself and let your body and confidence repair. Once you start to feel this returning, opportunities will appear too. I did a search to find threads, blogs and articles from other single women post breast cancer who had not had reconstruction and found barely anything. So I guess we have to be the ones to step out boldly and do this, what have we go to lose? Remember if the date's going badly, whip out the prosthesis and watch him run.

Breast cancer awareness month: Finding myself again

Author: Mhairi


At the beginning of 2015 I was battling depression. It started off as post-natal depression after each of my three children were born, but then became a continuous presence in my life, fluctuating in intensity. I had reached a particularly low point around Christmas 2014. Then I found a lump in my axilla and a larger lump in my left breast. I have a medical background; I knew what this could mean so I started to plan my funeral. Then I told myself not to be so ridiculous. I was too busy to have cancer anyway.


Of course it was cancer. Well that’s one way to kick depression’s butt – have a life threatening diagnosis. I leapt into fight or flight mode – I had a purpose, a new identity. It was scary, but it was also quite exciting. I think I must be a bit weird. What was really weird was that I didn’t feel depressed anymore. A bit terrified, but not depressed. The fog that almost permanently occupied my brain lifted as I began to attend the many hospital appointments that come with a cancer diagnosis. I was calm and smiling – I was POSITIVE! (Oh how I hate that word in relation to cancer, but that’s another blog).


This sense of calm continued throughout the gruelling course of chemotherapy. That may have been because I just felt so ill and exhausted that I couldn’t string two thoughts together a lot of the time. It may have been because I was being showered with visits, cards, flowers, meals, help and love from my wonderful friends and family. People commented on how well I was doing, I was such an inspiration etc. etc. To be honest I felt a bit of a fraud when people said these kind things as I didn’t feel I was making that much of an effort in my ‘fight’ against cancer. Cancer and it’s treatment was happening to me and I wasn’t being brave, I had no choice but to just get on with it. I was being given excellent treatment by lovely and dedicated health care professionals. I was being amazingly supported by my family, friends and church. Even my children tried to behave themselves a bit better. All I had to do was lie on my sofa and grit my teeth through the awful side effects of the chemo. The feeling of having been hit by a bus was deeply unpleasant but I felt so cared for and carried that my mood remained stable; the depression hadn’t caught up with me yet.


Then I had my surgery. The really great thing about the operation to remove the cancer was that it would give me my long wished for breast reduction. The surgeon would do an axillary clearance and wide lump excision on the affected side, reconstructing my breast smaller but using my own breast tissue. A plastic surgeon would reduce the unaffected side to match. At 43, and having breast fed 3 children, the prospect of having incredible gravity defying boobs was quite pleasing. So I was very nervous about the operation but excited about the results.


I had the op, it went well, and I got home the next day. The day after that I felt like an emotional car crash. The positive had gone, the hope had gone, and I was full of despair. Despair is a strong word but that is how I felt. I knew that sometimes after a general anaesthetic it is not unusual to feel quite low. I hoped that that was the reason I felt so rubbish, and that I would improve again. Months of chemo brain meant that I hadn’t really been able to think deeply and properly process what had happened to me this year. Now, after the op, I was physically restricted but mentally agile and every confused and negative thought that screamed through my head chipped away at me bit by bit. I felt deep shame about my overweight body, and kept thinking about all those people who had looked after me during the surgery thinking badly of me. I was fat and ugly, freakish looking with my newly growing post chemo hair and no eyebrows. My breasts didn’t feel like they were mine, though they are very much more me than many women end up with after breast cancer surgery. I felt I had no purpose, there was no point. What was I going to do with the rest of my life? 


I felt that I didn’t know any more who I was. Before I was diagnosed with cancer I had been preparing myself for a major life change. The cancer meant that I could no longer fulfil the role I had been preparing for. Connected to this, a close friend died of cancer while I was having my chemo, and the sense of grief and pain I had over these two losses became increasingly hard to bear. And then there was the anxiety about the future – what if the cancer comes back or has spread beyond the lymph nodes? How would I ever learn to live with the uncertainty with any sort of equanimity? What if I didn’t survive the cancer? What if I did, and had to crawl through the rest of my life with this crushing sense of futility? The familiar fog began to descend.


Now THIS is a battle – I have to fight the negative thoughts and feelings that assault me and threaten to engulf me. I have to make tiny mental and emotional adjustments to a new normal day after day, trying to smooth the jagged edges of those chips. For me, my Christian faith plays a massive part in this along with the support of my family and friends. 


The thing that could kill me has given me identity, intense purpose, even privilege. Now it has hopefully gone I am feeling lost and insignificant. I’m actually feeling afraid of returning to the normality of everyday life without the regular round of hospital appointments. Once I have finished radiotherapy I am dreading not having the regular reassuring contact with the health professionals, especially my breast care nurses. And I fear that it is wrong to feel like this.


I need to fight against the temptation to be defined by my illness. I am not breast cancer, I am Mhairi. I just need to rediscover who she is. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Write for the blog! This blog is one of a series being shared on the Young Women's Breast Cancer Blog UK during October, breast cancer awareness month, but the blog is here year round. If you are a young woman in the UK who has/had a breast cancer diagnosis and you would like to be a part of this blog, please have a read of the additional information here.

Check your breasts

Breast cancer can happen to any of us - regardless of age. Information about how to check your breasts can be found on the Coppafeel and Breast Cancer Now websites.

Further information and support:

Younger Breast Cancer Network UK - an online chat and support group for women under the age of 45 in the UK who have had a breast cancer diagnosis.

Baldly Beautiful - a YouTube channel with make up demonstrations, created by Mac makeup artist Andrea Pellegrini who went through chemo herself in 2014.

Take A Moment - This is a group for women (all ages) who have/had breast cancer who want to explore, reflect on and express their feelings and experiences through photography. This is a link to the public page - to join the group, send them a message.

The Osborne Trust - Providing children of parents with cancer the opportunity to access time out recreational activities whilst their parents undergo operations and treatments

Jen's Friends - Free heart-shaped pillows for women (and men) with Breast Cancer. Designed to provide comfort and protection after a Mastectomy operation.


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Breast cancer awareness month: The Secret

Author: Anonymous

Can you keep a secret? I haven’t told anyone but a few weeks ago I let a complete stranger take a topless photograph of me. No, I didn’t go to a Burlesque club (don’t think they have much interest in women with one breast). And it wasn’t that one your surgeon takes before breast surgery (where do all those photos go by the way?) No. I am one of the women featuring in the photographer Laura Dodsworth’s collaboration with Stella McCartney to raise awareness of breast cancer – ‘No Less a Woman.’ Scroll down to the link, get a box of tissues and read the stories of the first four women. I’m too shy and scared to tell you which one is me.

I haven’t told my family, my friends, my colleagues or my boss that my photo and interview is on the Stella McCartney website. I did tell my partner. The irony of me being photographed half naked for all to see when I hide my scars from him was not lost on either of us. Nudity is such a massive thing in our culture. I won’t tell me family as they would be upset. My friends, colleagues and boss would be shocked. I am sure that there is very likely some clause in my job description that refers to not bringing my profession into disrepute, and anyway it’s not the first thing I want to tell my new boss (picture the scene!).

I would never been photographed topless before breast cancer. So why did I do it? The truth is that I don’t really know. Most of the stories that are used to raise awareness for breast cancer focus on what I call ‘silver linings;’ our bravery, our ability to inspire, to ‘still’ be sexy and beautiful despite breast cancer – of course we are! But what is less talked about is our pain, our loss and the fact that too many women still die too soon. Having bought Laura’s book, I liked that she wanted to celebrate this aspect of womanhood, to share our different stories about our bodies, our breasts. I felt like I became mute when I went through treatment for cancer but that I have found my voice again. And now that I have found it I want to shout from the rooftops. And I trusted Laura with the story of my body despite my fears.

On Monday the first stories will come down and four more women take the centre stage. My story will go off into the ether and that’s exactly how it should be. I am just one voice, one story. I am not special. We all know that there are far too many women like me, like us. Please share, but keep my secret safe.

http://www.stellamccartney.com/gb

 

Breast cancer awareness month: A Moon Transiting Through Cancer (part 2 of 2)

Author: A Moon
Allie also writes at: https://alliemoonjourney.wordpress.com/

Cancer Fog 

The usual me, although a little ditsy at times, is usually a very together person – organised, driven, determined, detail-focused and on top of things. From the point of being diagnosed, a piece of that person has disappeared a little. I’m unable to take in or store lots of information – I have to have things explained to me more than once, and even then it stays there only temporarily. It could be down to “chemo brain”, but as I had it from the point of diagnosis I suspect not. I’m only able to pick up on certain things or key words as my mind is generally filled with 101 different questions at any point in time about varying things and worries to do with cancer and treatment.

Chemotherapy and Hair Loss 

The way chemotherapy is portrayed in the media does not always accurately reflect how it is in reality. Whilst I know many people face a terrible experience of it, I really thought I’d be completely bed-ridden or have my head down the loo being constantly sick all the time. Whilst I am coping with the chemotherapy treatments better than I’d imagined I have found it very tough emotionally and psychologically. Out of the side effects I’ve had, the worst has been losing my hair. This is a difficult process for anyone of any age or gender, but particularly more so for women. My hair is a part of who I am, how I present myself to world and what makes me feel feminine. When it started to come out I wanted to hide away from the world, I didn’t want to go anywhere or see anyone and didn’t want them to see me. Hair loss can have such a negative impact on your self-confidence and body image, leading to introversion, depression, feelings of unattractiveness and at times it's been hard to cope functioning normally on a day-to-day basis.

I had tried as hard as I could to mentally prepare myself for losing my hair, but in reality nothing can really prepare you for how it feels when it starts to come out. Two weeks after I'd had my first chemo treatment my scalp started to feel a little tingly and a bit itchy. In the days that followed I noticed quite a few strands coming out and then almost a week after when I washed my hair, absolutely loads started to come out. I burst into tears and couldn't stop crying. I wanted to be as strong and as positive as I could be trying to deal with this whole experience. I think when I started to lose my hair all the feelings and emotions I'd had inside about having cancer all came bubbling up to the surface and out like molten lava from a volcano. I became even more aware of my situation and started to deal with the emotions perhaps I had previously been numb to. I felt like I was not only grieving for my hair, but also grieving for the person who I used to be. The reality of the start of this process was much harder than I ever imagined. As silly as it sounds, having lived with having cancer and all the low points it has encompassed over the last five months, I think it really hit me that I was officially a cancer patient – soon to be balding – no disguising the fact now. I felt down at the bottom low.

Loving Kindness, Support, Positivity and Gratitude 

The path I've been walking over the last few months has been fraught with worry, fear, stress, pain, anxiety and sheer fright. But whilst the path has been a hard one to travel, it has shined a light on the many special, down right amazing and kind and caring people who I'm lucky to have in my life.

Without my husband by my side these last few months this would definitely have been an even more horrid experience. He has been my absolute rock and guardian angel – caring for me, holding me in his arms, comforting me in my darkest hours and holding my hand every step of the way. Whilst we had a very happy and strong relationship before I was diagnosed, I certainly feel it's brought us even closer together. My family and friends have also been amazing – no words can describe how grateful I am for the care, thought and support they’ve shown me. My employers have been incredibly supportive throughout all of this and I can’t thank them enough for their kindness and generosity. I feel truly blessed to have such kind, caring and supportive friends, family and colleagues.

A very dear friend moved me to tears when she surprised me with the fact that she’d been fundraising amongst my friends, family and work colleagues. This was so I could choose whichever wig I felt most comfortable wearing without having to worry about how much it would cost. Their very kind donations have enabled me to leave my house and try to brave the world in what is this ‘”new normal” for me. They’ve all helped in making the huge mountain I’m climbing that little bit easier, ultimately helping helped me stick two fingers up to this dastardly disease. As well as many of the more insignificant happenings of life that suck up our energy, I certainly won’t ever be complaining about bad hair days in the future!

I realise that I’m fortunate to not have had a worse diagnosis, and that is due to the fact that I found the lump early enough that it hadn’t spread elsewhere in my body. For everyone reading this blog, please, please make sure you regularly check your breasts so you know what normal feels like. If you feel something that is not right - don’t sit and wait on it – act now.





 

Breast cancer awareness month: A positive outcome

Author: Michaela


Everyone tells you to 'be positive' and' everything will be just fine'. I knew from the moment I found my lump that it wouldn't be fine; I think you just know.

But here's the thing, sometimes you do here a story about someone who got lucky when things could have been so much worse, and that is me. I hope my story can give someone in the early stages of this horrible journey some hope.

It was Mother's Day weekend and I'd been out with my mum and 2 sisters for ice cream and a weepy film. I got home to my husband baking cakes for me for Mother's Day and was told to wait in the lounge and DO NOT enter the kitchen! Love him! So I sat and caught up with the Facebook world. A work colleague who had recently finished her breast cancer treatment had posted something about checking your breasts. I NEVER check mine- because they are just lumpy and how could you possibly tell? I was horrified to find a very obvious lump which I cannot believe I hadn't noticed before.

The days that followed were just an emotional draining whirlwind. I was lucky to be seen by my GP and then the consultant within days. An ultrasound, core biopsy and mammogram were done and then an agonising 3 week wait for the results. In those 3 weeks I prepared myself for the worst. I was going to die and leave my two beautiful children without their Mum. My parents were going to lose their eldest daughter. Could my husband cope without me? Those 3 weeks of uncertainty were, without doubt, the worst 3 weeks of my life.

The results were as expected. I heard the words 'you have breast cancer' and the rest was a blur. What I didn't hear were the very positive comments that she made about how small the cancer looked, how the lymph nodes appeared to be clear. I had surgery 4 days later to have the lump removed and a sentinel node biopsy.

I felt devastated after the surgery. My lump was high up almost on my chest right on the edge of the breast. The scar I am left with is visible and if I'm honest, I hate it. I am not at a stage yet where I wear it as a battle scar to be proud of. Selfishly, I miss my nice shaped boobs and I miss being able to wear clothes to show them off. I don't think I will ever quite get over that part. Please don't judge me for that, I can't help it. I was most scared about having to have Chemo. I didn't want to lose my hair. I realise how pathetic and self aware I am, it's been a lesson in life that's for sure.

It's interesting how you learn so much about family and friendships at a time like this. I saw the pain in my husbands eyes and it made me understand how much he loved me. That had been something I'd doubted at times, but it was suddenly so real and clear. Seeing your Mum cry and say that she wishes she could have the Cancer instead of her little girl. That broke my heart- but I knew she meant every word. My Dad was a mess, he was so scared that he would lose me. And friends, interesting this. Some people you have been close to your whole life don't seem to know what to say, so they just don't say anything. That was very hard. Some friends, and work colleagues literally stopped speaking to me at all, instead talking about me to my husband. I know it's a hard thing to talk about, but from my experience, I know that I will always put my own awkwardness aside and make sure I speak to people. My family were amazing throughout; offering constant emotional support, practical help with childcare and cooking meals for us. A certain few friends now have an extra special place in my heart because of how they helped us through.

My results following surgery were as great as they could possibly be. A grade 2 cancer, only 18mm, all out with no spreading to the lymph nodes. The cancer was gone and best of all I did not need to have chemotherapy. Just 4 weeks of radiotherapy and 10 years of Tamoxifen. The radiotherapy was dull and a bit of a pain to get there every day but for me it was completely painless and I coped well throughout. Work were extremely flexible which helped too.

And here I am 5 months on, life seemingly back to normal, the nightmare of breast cancer hopefully a distant memory. Except it isn't for me, the reality is that I think about it every single day, that I am constantly scared I will get it again and not be so lucky next time. Everyone else around me has moved on and no one knows the mess my head is in. I've found I can't really talk to my husband about it as he always wanted to offer a solution, or tell me that I am being irrational. Which I know I am, but I just need someone to let me get the words out. I've decided to find out about some professional counselling, that way I can get the thoughts out of my head and friends and family can continue to move on and not feel I am being negative about my experience. I am awaiting the results of genetic testing now and hoping that a can of worms isn't opened from the results. Hopefully it is just me that randomly got this illness.

I know how very, very lucky I have been. Compared to many others I have literally had a brush from this terrible illness and have got away so lightly. Physically I am good, emotionally will take a bit more work! I want women to have hope that sometimes the outcome is ok, that if you find a lump early and act fast, the results are not always the worst.

X

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Write for the blog! This blog is one of a series being shared on the Young Women's Breast Cancer Blog UK during October, breast cancer awareness month, but the blog is here year round. If you are a young woman in the UK who has/had a breast cancer diagnosis and you would like to be a part of this blog, please have a read of the additional information here.

Check your breasts

Breast cancer can happen to any of us - regardless of age. Information about how to check your breasts can be found on the Coppafeel and Breast Cancer Now websites.

Further information and support:

Younger Breast Cancer Network UK - an online chat and support group for women under the age of 45 in the UK who have had a breast cancer diagnosis.

Baldly Beautiful - a YouTube channel with make up demonstrations, created by Mac makeup artist Andrea Pellegrini who went through chemo herself in 2014.

Take A Moment - This is a group for women (all ages) who have/had breast cancer who want to explore, reflect on and express their feelings and experiences through photography. This is a link to the public page - to join the group, send them a message.

The Osborne Trust - Providing children of parents with cancer the opportunity to access time out recreational activities whilst their parents undergo operations and treatments

Jen's Friends - Free heart-shaped pillows for women (and men) with Breast Cancer. Designed to provide comfort and protection after a Mastectomy operation.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *