Finding (or what the heck’s this?)

Apologies for the day late post, it’s been busy with exciting news, more on that at some later point, and Manchester’s enjoying it’s first sunny day it feels like - so I’m a day late. 

Today I wanted to talk a little about finding my lump. 

My family have a strong family history of female cancers, and five years before my diagnosis, I’d been referred to the genetic clinic by my doctor when I’d updated my family history with him. He was a smashing GP; kindly, pragmatic, and about to retire as he referred me. I was sad about the last point, and also reassured by his assertion that this wasn’t the sort of thing a GP does all the time, 

“In fact you’re only my second across my career” he said. 

Why was I reassured?
Because someone was taking me seriously, and that matters when you think you might have a genetic defect! In fact I have been taken seriously at every step of the way of my journey, the genetic screening drew a blank. My family don’t carry either of the known breast cancer genes. 

You may be shouting “but….but…” at the screen right now, and I know, I hear you. But that news comes later. We’ll get there, don’t worry. 

So I started off with great intentions after my mum was ill, I’ll check them every 4 weeks, religiously. And I did. At first. Then, like my commitment to attending church, it became more sporadic, and then it was only when I saw a link shared round social media, reminding me, that I gave them a squish. Then I forgot about my family history, my concerns, and got on with my life. 

I still can’t tell you why I did it, or how, but that Wednesday, as I took off my bra, I felt a lump. I wasn’t checking them, I was just getting undressed as I did every day. That day, it was different. The lump was under my left breast, and I thought - ooh what was that? Them being fairly sizeable and my underwear being pretty substantial to cope, I thought it might be a bit of biscuit trapped against the RSJ that supported them, or a forgotten pound coin, or family of circus performers, lost for the night. I ran my hands under my breast again, and there it was. Not quite squishy, but not completely hard, like a bouncy ball in size and texture it seemed. I shoved it about a bit, it moved, becoming more or less noticeable. Intriguing.

I’d had a rough day at work, and was not amused by this extra thing to add to my list of moans. I text my friend and work colleague with words to that effect of here’s the third thing of the day, I’ve just found a lump. Seriously?! She replied asking me whether I was ok. I said yes. I wasn’t worried, after all, I was 31, far too young, and my family don’t have either of the two known breast cancer genes. I told her I’d ring the doctors. I’d spoken to my mum about her lump when she was diagnosed, and it didn’t fit that description. I was sure it was probably nothing. Most lumps are. 

I rang the Doctors’, but it was Wednesday, and everything is half day here, on Wednesday, including health apparently. It would have to wait until the next day. How frustrating, I thought. The evening passed with very little thought about the matter. I had a bath, went to sleep. 

I tell you this story, to reach this point, the reason I’m writing this post. The next day, the very next morning, I rang the Doctors’. I spoke to the doctor, who said that he would get a female doctor to come to the surgery and check me out on the following day, Friday. 

That’s why. 

Of course, please check your melons, spuds etc. Know how your body feels and be aware of things that change, and should you find a lump, please, please contact your GP as soon as you can. Is having a day off work a pain to get checked over? Yes of course it was. It was absolutely the right thing to do. Unchecked, my cancer may well have spread beyond my breast, as it had just reached the first of my lymph nodes, when they were checked. This blog could have not been being written. 

It feels stark writing that, but it’s the truth, and that’s what we’re here for isn’t it?