The Diagnosis by Cecilia Garnett

Discovering the Lump

On the 24th June 2021, I found a lump the size of a golf ball in my right breast. It was completely by chance. A simple rearranging of my boobs into my nice White Company PJs and, voilá, there was ‘the lump’ I never wanted to have felt but am now glad that I did—because if it had been left for longer, who knows how much worse my diagnosis could have been! It was right behind my nipple in the fleshy part, so it wasn’t obvious. I have never really checked my breast. I wash every day and have never come across any lumps and bumps. I know I’m supposed to check them properly. That’s what we are told. But, I hadn’t. I turned 50 earlier this year and assumed that I would be called for a mammogram, so never thought to check myself. We don’t have a history of breast cancer in my family! I’m the first one.

Receiving the Diagnosis

When I received my initial diagnosis, which was a week after the mammogram and the biopsies were taken, I just assumed it would be some hormonal thing. I never thought it would happen to me. I remember being in the hospital waiting to have my biopsies taken when my brother, James, tried to FaceTime me from Spain—because he’s over there looking after my mother since my father passed away last October. I couldn’t let him know what was happening with me because he had all the pressure of trying to finalise the Spanish probate while looking after our mother. So, I ignored the call, thinking all of this is nothing anyway, no need to worry him unnecessarily.

Processing the Shock

To say I was completely floored is an understatement. My husband, Hamish, came with me to receive the results, and he had the good sense to record everything the doctor told us. A lot of information started coming thick and fast. It felt a bit like an outer body experience, happening to someone else, mixed with moments of feeling completely overwhelmed by the significance and enormity of what the doctors were telling me and the complete emotional paralysis of ‘how?’ and ‘why is this happening to me?’

Health and Lifestyle Reflection

I exercise regularly, eat mostly healthily, cook and prepare our meals predominantly from scratch—and I’m never ill!! But, I love my rosé wine, especially in the summer. I am partial to a bottle of bubbles, and I have been finding it hard, particularly over Lockdown, to refrain from that daily second bar of chocolate!

Further Testing and Uncertainty

We were told that the cancer had spread to six lymph nodes, and I needed to have three more scans to check it hadn’t spread any further—a CT scan, a bone scan, and an MRI scan. I was also booked to have a metal rod or ‘indicator’ inserted into the tumour to be able to measure the effectiveness of the chemotherapy that I was most likely going to need. I was booked into those appointments in a matter of days over the course of the following two weeks.

NHS Treatment and Support

I should add, I am doing this all through the NHS. I don’t have private medical insurance. The team of NHS nurses have been amazing so far, answering my every question, and I have subsequently understood there isn’t a huge amount of difference in the treatment between the NHS and going private.

The Longest Two Weeks

Those two weeks of attending scan appointments and wondering what my future now held were the longest and most emotional weeks I’ve had in my life. It’s a strange feeling being told, “You have breast cancer,” when you don’t feel ill or in pain whatsoever. The scans were pretty straightforward. Both my husband and friends offered to take me, willingly, but I went by myself because these appointments can take time, and I didn’t want to sit and make small talk. I wanted to just get in and out. I didn’t want to have to worry about someone giving up their time to take me to an appointment that I knew I could do by myself, and that way, I didn’t have to consider anyone else’s feelings. I needed to concentrate on me, even if that sounded selfish.

Seeking Answers

Now, I can be a bit of a pushy so-and-so when I need to be—especially if I have to find out things or need to get answers when they aren’t forthcoming. I do it politely, of course, but I can’t always accept a “no” when I’m told “no” or “I’m not allowed to tell you that,” etc. So, when I went for each scan, I knew I had to probe the radiologists about what they saw. I needed to start to take back control of my life.

I didn’t get much from my CT or MRI scans, but I seized the opportunity to ask a bit more when the radiologist admitted that the bone scan would only last 30 minutes unless they “saw something,” in which case they’d have to continue scanning my body for another 15 minutes. I had to go stay in for the extra 15 minutes. I’m not going to lie, I was absolutely bricking it—wondering what they’d seen, where, how bad it was, etc. So, I had no intention of leaving that room until the radiologist could explain what they’d seen.

After much protestation (they’re not supposed to tell you anything, as that’s the responsibility of the oncologist doctors—a meeting which I wasn’t due to have for another 16 days), she admitted she’d seen two shadows on my back between my shoulders. But all she could offer was that “it could be anything, it could be arthritis. It’s not necessarily metastases!” As you can imagine, that didn’t fill me with much confidence, but I was incredibly grateful that she had told me what she’d seen. I always think being forewarned is forearmed, and I needed to know what I could be potentially dealing with here.

The Agony of Waiting

The next few days were torture—for me and Hamish. Waiting has got to be the worst of it. You are waiting around for a result that you know is already crap and is already going to be life-changing, but you’re hoping that you aren’t going to hear anything worse—which is ironic, given you’ve already been told the ‘worst news’!

Getting Clarity on the Diagnosis

I had to push and push for the breast care nurses to get me some information about my scans ahead of the meeting with the oncologist on 4th August. I was constantly being rebuffed until I impressed upon them the importance of me remaining calm and unstressed so as not to ‘feed the cancer,’ and the only way that was going to happen was to get me the information I needed to know—i.e., had it spread beyond the lymph nodes, or was it contained?

The nurse called me the next day, and this time I received good news—it had not spread. Although the lymph nodes by my collarbone are enlarged, and these cannot be surgically removed, so I have been booked in for a PET scan before I begin the treatment and am most likely going to need radiotherapy.

Meeting with the Oncologist

I went with Hamish to the oncologist appointment on 4th August and was informed that I have stage 3 cancer—which basically means I have an invasive form of breast cancer that is fast-growing. It is hormonal, so I had to stop taking my contraceptive pill immediately. The tumour is too big at the moment to be surgically removed.

They say I’d need to have a full mastectomy if I were to have surgery now, so the plan is to shrink the tumour with chemotherapy over the course of the next five months, in the hope that it will be small enough then to have a lumpectomy rather than a mastectomy, thereby negating the need for reconstructive surgery.

Starting Chemotherapy

I start chemo on the 19th August. The first 12 weeks will involve chemotherapy once a week, which will last 2-3 hours on a drug called Pacliataxel. The following two months will involve a fortnightly heavy dose of EC chemotherapy—epirubicin/cyclophosphamide, where I’ve been told that I could feel unwell for up to a week after each dose. I will then have the surgery, followed by radiotherapy to tackle the lymph nodes.

A Difficult Conversation Ahead

Next… I have to go out to Spain to tell my mother and brother face to face, something I’m not looking forward to doing, given my father only passed away last October.

AUUTHOR: CECILIA GARNETT

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About the Author Cecilia Garnett

I'm a career coach, with over ten years experience, specialising in helping mums get back to work, guiding graduates and undergraduates in their journey to their first jobs and supporting professionals with communications issues at work.

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