The bombshell drops

I have been pondering over the last week or so whether to write about this stuff in my blog, not sure if anyone else would want to read it but have decided even if no one does it will be good for me to get it down. So the warning here is this isn’t a frothy light read so continue if you dare.
So in September when I got back from our summer holidays there was a letter waiting for me recalling me following a routine mammogram a few weeks before. I wasn’t too concerned as I know sometimes they don’t come out so well so off I went to the breast clinic where they told me that there was something on my mammogram. Something small but still something. Ok so more tests required and also a biopsy. During all this time I tried to push down the worry and be positive that it would be nothing. Results day arrived and we got taken into a room. You know the sort of room, a sofa, a couple of chairs and a box of tissues. I do not like this type of room. Friends had been saying to me that I would be ok as I’m too good a person for anything bad to happen Only you see I know that’s not true because bad things do happen to good people. Because I’ve been in a room just like this before and the news I was given in there was the worst of my life.
Well they don’t sugar coat it, they come out straight and tell me I have an invasive breast cancer. However the good news (thanks goodness for good news) it’s been caught early, it’s small and treatable. It’s a shock, it’s not what you want to hear. In that moment I can’t really tell you what I thought or felt fully but I know I cried. (See that’s why I always worry when I see a box of tissues.) They give you some time for it to sink in and then it’s full swing into what’s next. My breast care nurse Helen puts it as, we are going to be taking up a lot of your time for the foreseeable future. There’s lots of info, lots of paperwork and lots of scary words that fill you with dread but there is also kindness and compassion plus practicalities. I’m always better if I can focus on practicalities.
We leave the hospital, we go for lunch as planned. We make a sorry pair crying into our pizza but as we all know, life goes on.
Telling people was tough and upsetting but weirdly I felt a little detached from it all. Maybe a coping mechanism. Plans have had to be made and rearranged, again, practicalities help. Work - well they have been great and the least of my worries. Being who I am I wanted to get loose ends tied up and outstanding work handed over but that was me, I was under no pressure to do any of that and they have been great about time for my appointments. Plus the very good friends I have in work, have been so supportive.
On Tuesday I got a call to say they were bringing my operation forward to Thursday. That was a shocker and threw the last of my plans into disarray. Most annoyingly my hair cut booked for Friday. Desperate times call for desperate measures so the fringe has been massacred with my nail scissors but I can see. It’s weird what things you put importance on and clearly I’m vainer than I realised.
So today finds me propped up in bed post lumpectomy and lymph node biopsy. I’m sore and tired but a step closer to recovery now the evil bubble has (hopefully) been all removed. Yes I know this is the start and there is treatment to follow but I am positive that I can beat this. I’m strong, life has made me so and I have the best hubby, family and friends walking beside me holding my hand and holding me up when I need it.