By Sue Goodchild
It all started on a sunny day in July 2024 when I received an invite to go for a mammogram. I opened the letter, read it, and put it to one side. At the age of 67, the thought of having to take everything off from the waist up fills me with embarrassment, what bra shall I wear, does it fit nicely, will they think that I’m fat, all of you ladies will know what I mean.
A few days later I picked up the phone and made my appointment. With the date and time arranged, I carried on with life as normal. I had always been for my mammograms when invited, as one day they could save my life. Little did I know then how important this particular mammogram would be and how the next few weeks would change my life.
At my mammogram appointments, there are no men. The whole thing is done by a very professional group of ladies, who talk me through what is about to happen, how to stand, where to put my arms, and the like. The machines are huge and are programmed to take scans of my breasts and underarms at all angles. I remember thinking, “I hope the machine doesn’t take on a mind of its own,” as it could be painful and leave me with an extremely flat chest in all the wrong places. But seriously, mammograms may be a little uncomfortable, but that’s it. Before I know it, it’s over and I’m getting dressed. No one cares what shape I am, what size my boobs are or anything like that — they have a very important job to do.
Now normally in the past I would receive an all-clear letter, but this time, I was invited back for more investigations. On reading the letter, a little bit of fear ran though my body. In total denial, my mind started talking to itself... “It has to be wrong,” “I don’t have anything wrong with me,” all sorts of reasoning was going through my mind. I then thought, “Why shouldn’t it happen to me? I’m no different to anyone else.” I showed the letter to my husband. He said that it is what it is, and whatever it is, we will deal with it.
The day came for my visit to the breast clinic. I gave my name to the receptionist and took a seat in the waiting room with my husband. There were a few ladies there waiting with me, and I was watching as they came and went for their appointments. A nurse then called my name, and in I went to see the radiologist. He was a very nice gentleman sitting in front of his computer, which had two screens. He welcomed me in and said that he knew a lot about me. I thought, “Oh no!”
When I looked at his desk, he had all of my previous mammograms in front of him. On the screens he had the scans of my boobs. I remember thinking, “My god they’re big,” but then he would have to have them large on the screen so I could see what he wanted to show me.
He explained that he had noticed something suspicious on my left breast that had been there since 2012, but had changed. He said that he was going to do some biopsies and asked me to lay on the couch while he gelled me up and used a scanner to find what he thought was suspicious. An injection was given in my boob to numb what he was about to do, but I have to say this whole procedure was very painful indeed.
He took four biopsies and put a titanium tag in my breast at the suspicious location so if it turns out to be cancer, it can be found easily. He said that the titanium tag won’t go off in Gatwick airport security. I wait to get confirmation of this in a few weeks when I go on holiday; I hope he is right, as it could be a little awkward. I then got dressed and left to go home. I was advised that they would be in contact with the results in about two weeks.
The follow-up letter came inviting me back for the results of the biopsies. I met with a lovely team of nurses who were very caring. I felt sure that the results wouldn’t be anything serious, but I was about to have the biggest wake-up call ever. They advised me that it was cancer, but assured me that it was small and had been caught early. I was told that it was a 14mm grade 1 invasive ductal carcinoma (breast cancer). The consultant advised me, I was given a lot of information to read, and an appointment was made for me to meet the consultant and arrange a date for surgery.
Not long after, I met with the consultant, who told me that a lumpectomy would be done to remove the cancer and that my lymph nodes would be biopsied. It was Thursday, and as I sat there, she advised me that the following week there was an opening on Wednesday. I was so tempted to say, “Leave it for a few weeks,” but my friend who was with me said to get it over and done with, so the following Wednesday was booked. I don’t know if I am naive, but I thought I would be going in, having the tumour removed and sent home for recovery. I can tell you that there can be a lot more to it.
On Monday, I went to the hospital for a check-up, blood tests, and ECG to make sure I was safe for a general anaesthetic. On Tuesday, I went to the nuclear department at another hospital to have a sentinel node scan and a radiopharmaceutical injection in my boob the day before my operation. Then on the day of the operation, I had to be at the breast clinic by 10:30 a.m. to have a wire inserted into my left breast that would help the consultant find the tumour more quickly. To me, this seemed like something out of a horror film: this long wire sticking out of my boob. I thought, “How am I going to get my clothes back on with this?!” The nurses rolled it up and taped it down before sending me for more mammograms to make sure it was in the right place.
Myself and another lady were taken across to the main hospital to get ready for our operations. The other lady went down first, with me going down at just after four in the afternoon. I woke up in the recovery room at just after six in the evening and was then taken to the ward. I wasn’t in there for long, but they wouldn’t let me go until I had a wee, and I was surprised that it was blue! This was due to the dye injected during surgery. It wasn’t long before I was up, dressed, and ready to go home.
Since my original first meeting at the breast clinic, life went really quickly. I am pleased to say that I am now clear of breast cancer and healing slowly but surely. I cannot thank the radiologist, the consultant, the nurses, and everyone else involved enough for their never-ending support and care.
I don’t have to have radiotherapy, but I do have to take letrozole hormone therapy and Adcal-D3 (a calcium and vitamin D3 supplement) for five years and have mammograms annually. But other than that, I now look forward to a full recovery and being able to wear a bra without it being uncomfortable.
My advice is to always go for your mammograms no matter how embarrassing you think they are. They will save your life. Secondly, make sure you have a very comfortable bra that fits nicely over your boobs and doesn’t rise too high under the arms, just in case your lymph nodes are tested. If you have ample boobs like me, you will be grateful that they are under control post-surgery.
I must say a big thank you to the wonderful team at the West Sussex Breast Clinic, the consultant and team at Worthing Hospital.
اقرأ أكثر:
في البودكاست محادثات سرطان الثدي
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