It’s a slightly strange experience. Not painful, but uncomfortable: lying with your arm at a bit of an odd angle for 15 mins or so pulls on muscles that are already sore from surgery and general prodding and poking, so afterwards everything feels slightly stretched.
The inside of my arm and a part of my breast are numb from the surgery. The rest of my breast is tender, and itches like mad from the “sunburn” the high-energy radiotherapy rays causes. You are supposed to use aqueous cream to help with this but I have to admit I am not very good at it: at first I didn’t want to touch my breast because it was sore. But if I’m honest it was also because I’ve felt angry with my body for letting me down (ridiculous I know) and have not wanted to look at, or look after, that part of it.
I am still struggling a bit with what my breast now looks like. I’ve been fortunate in needing a lumpectomy (a wide local excision to give it its proper name), rather than a mastectomy, which means that literally a biggish ‘lump’ of tumour and surrounding tissue has been removed.
I have three scars: a small crescent-shaped tumour biopsy scar to the right of my nipple; a 3cm scar near my armpit from the lymph node biopsy and a 2cm scar that curves around the top my nipple where the tumour was cut out.
I also have a sizeable dent (the surgeons call it a dimple) where the tissue’s been removed.
It does not look terrible – a bit angry and inflamed at present, but that will go. Topless modelling is probably out but I think I can live with that. I am very fortunate: I did not have to have chemotherapy and my prognosis is good.
There have been many days when I have not felt fortunate (and rightly so: discovering on the ninth anniversary of your son’s death that you are pregnant, finding out three days later you have cancer, and then having a termination are very difficult to cope with, and it is hard not to feel at times that fate has it in for you). But I do feel fortunate today.
I feel fortunate because the cancer was discovered early (almost by chance) and was therefore very treatable. I am fortunate that I live somewhere with access to fantastic medical care and treatment that isn’t dependent on whether you can afford it.
I feel fortunate to have family and friends who have looked after and supported me even when I have been (ok – still am) a complete nightmare to be around.
I’m fortunate because today I got to sit in a beautiful London square in the autumn sunshine, and at that moment it seemed quite enough just to be there, and much more than some people ever have.