The first of many, many visits to Northwick Park Hospital

Thursday 15th July.

I arrive at the Breast Clinic for my 9am appointment.

The breast doctor I see gives me a thorough physical examination of my breasts. Once again I have to point out where the lump is. Once again I am assured that it is almost certainly a cyst. She finds nothing else. I am then sent off for my mammogram.

The highly efficient looking radiographer calls about 5 women in for their mammogram.

I go into a cubicle which has two doors, remove all my top clothes and put on the first of many, many hospital gowns.

The mammogram machine looks like all the others I have seen on the TV. For those of you who have had mammograms you will know what it is like, for those of you who have yet to have this done to you I can assure you that it is nowhere near as painful or uncomfortable as you would imagine. However, breathing and holding your breath is quite difficult when you have large amounts of your "chest" clamped between two sheets of plastic.  I should also point out that the radiographer does tuck in as much of your breast as possible for obvious reasons.

I am then sent to the ultrasound department.

The room to which I am called is really very cold. Evidently the previous hot weather had necessitated the switching on of the air conditioning which clearly has little or no thermostatic control. On the screens are the results of the mammograms, which to my eye look like all the other mammograms I have ever seen.

The junior radiologist covers both my breasts and armpits with the ultrasound gel which in the over air conditioned room is very cold indeed. As she passes the probe over my breasts her senior colleague literally elbows her out of the way, saying she doesn't like the look of something. Small, quiet alarms bells begin to ring in my head.

As she passes the probe over my left breast I ask if it is the cyst she is concerned about. Oh no that's fine, she says as she points out the completely black area to me. This she will drain by sticking hypodermic needle in and drawing off the fluid. She is much more concerned about another lump which has shown up on the mammogram. Her suspicions are confirmed by the ultrasound and she decides to to a core biopsy.

A core biopsy uses a long hollow needle apparatus which takes a piece of the lump. Even with a local anaesthetic it is akin to being shot with the blunt end of a pencil. As she takes the sample off the needle to put into a pot she says again that she REALLY doesn't like the look of it.

I dress and return to see the original breast doctor. You can only begin to imagine what thoughts are going through my head.

The breast doctor looks at the initial results and points out that it all seems very straight forward and "curable". I'll probably only need a lumpectomy and some radiation therapy. However, nothing is certain until the results come back form pathology. He asks if I have any questions. The only one I can think of is how will this affect my holiday in 4 week's time? He assures me that my holiday is quite safe.

I make an appointment for the results for Monday 26th July.

As I drive home my head is buzzing with thoughts of my imminent mortality. I then stop being morbid.

When I get home I tell my teenage son that he has to be nice to me as I have breast cancer and I am going to die!!! He looks mildly concerned and makes me a cup of tea. I then tell him exactly what I have been told. He surmises that I am going to die but not for a goodly while yet.

I then have to 'phone my husband and ask him to take the 26th July off work to come with me. It's hard to sound nonchalant and upbeat over the 'phone. Clearly he is shocked - aren't we all?

I tell my teenage daughter when I collect her and her friends from the station after her school trip to the theatre, the same thing about breast cancer, dying and being nice to me. She takes in the same spirit as her brother. I do wonder if being brutally and overly honest is the best thing, but then we are like this with everything in our family. Perhaps if they were younger I'd have played it differently.

I tell no-one else at this point. There will be plenty of time for that later.