Two years ago tonight I was watching Doctor Who when I decided to do self-examination. I don't know why I remember watching Doctor Who. Perhaps the juxtaposition of the ordinary and the terrifying is what sticks in my mind.
I only did the self-examination because I’d interviewed two wonderful women – Mary and Shona – who had had breast cancer and wanted to raise awareness.
Before the story even went to print I found the lump. I had never done a self examination before, but I did it because Mary and Shona’s stories were so compelling.
The lump turned out not to be cancer at all, but a mammogram and an ultrasound revealed a cluster of very small lumps. They were too small to be felt but they were early stage breast cancer. It is unusual for it to be picked up so early in someone of my age (I was 37).
I have probably spent hours playing the I Would Never game which reminds me a bit of the children’s story The Old Woman and Her Pig (“... Fire won't burn stick, Stick won’t beat dog, Dog won't bite pig, Piggy won't get over the stile, And I shan't get home to-night.”)
If Mary and Shona hadn’t decided to speak out >
I Would Never have done the self examination >
I Would Never have found the original lump >
I Would Never have gone to my GP>
I Would Never have been referred for the tests that showed I had cancer.
And the timing is remarkable. When I saw the specialist a couple of weeks after seeing my GP (there was a delay due to me being overseas) the lump was gone. Had I done the original self-examination at that point I wouldn’t have found anything. I Would Never have seen my doctor ... etc.
My specialist thinks I would have discovered the cancer about a year later. At the time I was diagnosed the cancer had spread into two of my 19 axillary (armpit) lymph nodes, but only just. It’s unlikely the cancer went beyond the nodes, but another year down the track it would have been a different story.
Four years ago, during a pretty tough time in my family, my husband planted a magnolia tree. I remember thinking: “When this tree flowers, things will be on track again. Life will be okay again.”
Every year the damn thing has obstinately refused to flower. But we got home from a weekend away on Sunday night and there were two enormous flowering blooms on the skinny little tree (see a photo of one of them above).
I don't care that the rest of the tree looks decidedly anorexic. Two is enough. Next year it’ll be even stronger and it’ll bloom even more. I can definitely relate to that.
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