I was told I didn’t have cancer three times. Because I was too young, because I had no family history, because my ultrasound wasn’t suspicious. It was only after almost six weeks from my initial appointment that I insisted upon a biopsy because I KNEW deep down, the lump in my breast wasn’t a ‘breast mouse’ which is what they kept telling me it was.
Sure enough, after I had two different biopsies they diagnosed me with Invasive Ductal Carcinoma, the aggresive kind. The ‘oh shit’ kind. A week after my diagnosis, I had my boob chopped off and they confirmed it was stage two, grade three and it had spread to three of my lymph nodes. You know the rest…chemo, radiation, hormone drugs, menopause….a whirlwind of emotions and drugs.
The shit show is over now, apart from the hot flushes, and I am all clear. I'm one boob down and a completely different girl to who I was six months ago but I'm happy and healthy and doing the whole 'living life to the fullest' thing and I'm so damn grateful I could burst. I have a new love for life, I am happier than I've been in years and I love the hell out of the people around me.