It was Wednesday the 16th of May 2007. I was sitting up in bed, talking to my husband on the phone, hugging myself with cold. I moved my hand a little and felt a lump. I went ice cold and started to shiver. Finished the conversation with my husband, said nothing. In the doctor’s surgery next morning. The GP said I would be seen at the Breast Care Clinic within two weeks. ‘Try not to worry.’

In the event, my appointment was the full two weeks later, 31st May. I wanted to tell my husband face to face, which meant waiting. That was hard. The next week I found a smaller lump under my right arm in the bath. I guessed the GP had already identified it, but didn’t say. Neither did I tell my husband – he was about to go on a business trip to the States and couldn’t accompany me to the Clinic anyway.

A friend, a breast cancer survivor, came with me to the Clinic. It was hugely helpful to be with someone with this experience, and I am so glad I did not go alone. I didn’t expect a diagnosis that day, as I knew the biopsy results would take a bit of time. But the consultant surgeon told me immediately following his preliminary examination, ‘You have breast cancer. I expect the tests – mammogram, ultrasound, biopsy - to confirm it.’ He put me on Tamoxifen, explained that surgery was the first line of treatment and that probably both chemo and radiotherapy would follow.

I am still grateful to him for his directness and humanity. The first part of the waiting was over. The kindness began as I practised telling people, ‘I have breast cancer’. I was emotionally fragile, but I found it helped my acceptance to articulate it.

In the end, the biopsy was inconclusive, the cells were all DCIS (ductal carcinoma in situ), i.e. non invasive – but we knew that wasn’t the whole picture because of the lump under my arm. The surgery went ahead as scheduled – a lumpectomy, a wide local excision and axillary node removal. The primary cancer was 24mm and the lymph node lump 14mm. Grade 3, the most aggressive, but only the one node was affected out of twelve taken. Mixed news, then. I subsequently discovered that it is usual for pre-menopausal women to be Grade 3. I was 45.

My oncologist told me that I am middle of the road for treatability with no guarantees. In the receptor tests, I was weak to medium positive for oestrogen (tamoxifen) and C-erb B2 strongly positive (herceptin). The others were negative. I was advised to have chemotherapy and given a choice of drug treatment cocktails: 6 x TAC or 4 x FEC (fluoruocil, epirubicin and cyclophosphamide) and 4 x T (docetaxol). I opted for the latter, on the basis that my consultant indicated that outcomes were better for those with my profile. Logical given that the drugs work in different ways and would allow more bases to be covered. (Already, according to my consultant, the data are suggesting that 3 x FEC and 3 x T is in fact as effective as 4 of each. How quickly things move on.) Side effects and length of treatment were not a consideration. Six weeks of radiotherapy would follow.

I have not wanted to study the stats – as an individual they’re meaningless to me - just to focus on keeping myself as well as possible for as long as possible. No reason to turn my face to the wall – in fact lots of reasons not to.

At present, as my consultant puts it, there is no evidence of recurrence.