I’m finding it incredibly draining and tired all the time waiting for the operation. I’m pleased it’s only a benign lump that will be simply sorted out but I’ve never had a general anaesthetic and been in hospital. I’m anxious about it and also in pain so can’t wait for it all to be over. I’m hating the waiting but knowing also that my hospital and doctors have been brilliant at rushing me through – I am grateful but no matter what it’s still too long and it hurts and I want my Mum.

Today I went shopping for pajamas that do up at the front and a post-surgery bra. Usually I would be looking fo some lovely matching lingerie and choosing the prettiest or sexiest instead I found myself looking for comfort and practicality. I left the first shop in tears as all that was on offer was hideous in style, harsh in material and utterly practical. I then head to M&S as I’d read that they stock post-surgery bras. I have never been so embarrased or humiliated in my life. I couldn’t see any suitable, practical, front-fastening bras so asked an assistant. She shouted across the shop to her colleague about what we were looking for and why so everyone looked at me. The new colleague then said to me ‘oh yes we keep some samples but they’re not very nice and they’re probably at the bottom of the cupboard’. She rummaged around and then dumped them on the counter in front of all queuing and announced this was all they had and I’d have to go somewhere else if these weren’t right. I left, shuffling out of the shop, hating the fact that I had to look for one any way but didn’t need to be treated like a second class citizen. I didn’t do anything bad to need this operation. It wasn’t my fault. Next shop was Debenhams where the young shop assistant said ‘we don’t stock those things’. I left with nothing feeling totally battered.

Is there any reason at all why lingerie manufacturers can’t make post-surgery bras that are pretty and attractive? Can’t the shop assistants understand that this is a trying and difficult time? Perhaps post-surgery bras should be provided by the hospital to save us the humiliation.

It’s difficult being focussed on anything. I’m either trying to handle Mum’s death, sorting out the many tasks that we need to do to notify companies and people of Mum’s passing or stressing about my impending operation – being reminded the whole time by the pain I feel in my breast which still catches me off guard. I’m still finding it difficult to sleep and can’t get comfortable anymore as I sleep on my right side or my front – neither of which is an option without waking me up ouchy.

I arrived at the hospital in plenty of time and took a seat in the waiting area. I anxiously looked up every time the door opened and eventually my name was called. As I entered the consultants room I realised that I was easily memorable with my very red hair (hey I needed some colour in my life!) and waited. My consultant and a trainee doctor entered the room and the consultant and I had the usual banter about me being in IT and him using long medical words that a ‘natural blonde’ couldn’t understand! At least however we don’t have cancer in our family history and I’m just lumpy bumpy.

The tests confirmed that the lump was a benign fibroadenoma and can be removed with a simple lumpectomy. I once again reminded the consultant that rather than calling it a mastectomy or lumpectomy, both of which sound harsh and painful, we should call the operation a mallowectomy which sounds sort of squishy and much less painful. The intern doctor looked on and slightly shook his head at our joking about something so serious. We talked a little further about the operation and he explained that he would go in with a cut around my nipple to reduce any additional scaring and ensure that any scaring was along a natural line and therefore hard to see. I was releived with this and pleased that he was so not only concerned with the type of lump but also the cosmetics of the operation. It sounds so silly but this was a really huge thing for me, and I believe most ladies, as the first thought I had about my current situation was life without a boob. I love my boobs!!

I didn’t make the ball with my brother and his wife. I’m gutted as I had really really been looking forward to glamming up and having a good boogie but I really couldn’t have coped with the pain yesterday not to mention a strapless dress. My boob is so sore from the biopsies and bruised but also the lump is incredibly painful it’s making me feel nauseous – I wonder if the pain will dissipate a little once it settles down after being squished for the mammogram. Now we’ve got to wait for the test results.

My mind is sooo active all night and I’m thinking and thinking about so much and what if’s, even the prescription sleeping pills don’t seem to keep me asleep for more than a couple of hours. I think the continual lack of sleep is also not helping me cope with everything. I can’t stop crying. I suppose I’m grieving for Mum and also dealing with anxiety related to the lump but I can’t divide my feelings between them… I just feel helpless. I guess it’s times like this that I wish I was married or had a long term partner to confide in and who understands my innermost feelings. Someone who will give me a hug and make me feel secure and safe. Isn’t this what your Mum’s for at times like this?

The 4th September felt like the longest day in history. My appointment began at 9.45am with my first meeting my consultant. In my usual way, I hid my anxiety with a mixture of smiles and jokes. I had convinced myself that I was going to be wasting their time and almost apologising for it. I introduced myself as a ‘lumpy bumpy’ sort of a person who has had a number of cysts and moles removed over the years but nothing to worry about and this would probably be the same. My consultant asked me if there was any history of cancer in my family to which I replied with a confident “No but remember we are a lumpy bumpy family, but no cancer”. He checked my breast and advised that I would now be sent through for a mammogram and possibly an ultrasound and to go back to the waiting area until called.

I was eventually called through to the mammogram area of the hospital at the same time as another lovely lady in her late 50s. I quickly realised how frightened this lady was and it took all my NLP skills to remain calm in myself and offer support to this other lady.

This was the first time I had had a mammogram and found the whole experience excrutiatingly painful. I’m not sure if it was necessary for the nurses to be quite so brutal and to pull my breast between the sheets of plastic nor to twist the plates tighter to squash my already painful breast… but it was necessary (although this piece of equipment MUST have been invented by a man!). I knew that I had to remain calm and pretend that it was a breeze so that my new friend was less nervous about her mammogram. I think I managed it.

I then waited for confirmation that the mammogram was clear enough and if I needed an ultrasound. After an hour or so I was taken to another room and a radiologist conducted an ultrasound – a much more pleasant experience.

Back to the waiting area to be called to see the consultant and get the results of my tests. My new friend and I sat and talked about anything but what was happening to begin with and then shared our common interest in why we were there. I think this helped calm my friend but made me more nervous. I had laughed with the consultant and again with my friend that I was meant to be going to a ball this evening and my dress didn’t go around my bust so unless I could have a quick reduction that day, I would need to purchase a new dress in the next few hours!

Eventually I was called in to see the consultant. He advised me that the mammogram had indeed shown a lump but the ultrasound indicated that there was another small lump underneath. He thought the scans indicated that the lumps were a fibroadenema and would send a biopsy sample to the lab for testing. In order to get a good sample with both lumps being included he had to take three deep core biopsies which left me sore and bruised.

I had to talk to someone and called my friend Millie to ask if I could call in. Once again I fell apart on her and Mark, her husband, whilst I told them about my day and my worries with their finding a lump. They’ve been so fantastic at looking after me, with Mum and now this. I’m so very very lucky to have such wonderful friends but am longing for a time when I don’t fall apart in tears or feel that I’m being totally self-absorbed with problems in my life!

Millie makes me promise that no matter what, if there’s an operation, I am to move in with them and be looked after until I’m well enough to leave. I’m not allowed to leave until I promise. This is such a blessing and actually a huge relief to know that I’m not alone. It is odd, I have so many good friends and lots of family around who are very supportive of me in everything I do but at times I just want to hide and pretend it’s not going on or don’t want to burden people with my problems so simply make light of them and appear that everything is well when inside I hurt. Another lesson that I’m going to have to learn in all this is to be honest and up front about what I’m feeling and what I need… and ask for help, if I need it instead of being so bloody minded and independent. That’s a tough lesson for me…

My mobile rang at 7am and blurrily I took the call. It was the hospital calling to say they’d received a fax from my doctor and wanted to arrange an appointment as soon as possible to check out the mystery lump. The appointment was made for 4 September – I week away but I think I’m going to be grateful for my sleeping pills!

Hindsight is a wonderful thing. I should have seen my doctor sooner but I was determined that the lump was ‘just going away’. Surely it had been down to all the upset and emotion with Mum’s death… surely it was just due to my hormones being all over the place… surely it was anything other than cancer – right?…

During a meeting I find myself taking a sharp intake of breath whilst there is a piercing pain in my right breast. Can I ignore it? (as I’ve done so many times before) I’m thinking to myself, I just need a holiday and relax, surely it can’t be anything else.

I call the doctor’s surgery and speak to the lovely receptionist who immediately takes me seriously saying that of course I should see the doctor as soon as possible. She’s squeezed me in for an appointment in a couple of days time. I’m so relieved to be seeing a professional but am still convinced that he’ll just say it’s nothing, don’t worry.