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HOW TO CHECK YOUR BOOBS
Ready for treatment ging news that I had breast cancer e sitting two metres from my ultant, with no one to hold my hand. ere was some good news though. onsultant was confident that we’d ht the tumour early and it was fully able with an operation to remove nd, hopefully, just a course of therapy. Without anyone to give me r hug, I took five emotional minutes e switching into survival mode. This ust another surreal situation that I d have to deal with in 2020. e next few weeks were a long blur of ng friends, working from home, ding appointments, wearing masks spitals, having my temperature read nuously, taking Covid-19 tests and sanitising my hands. At that time, only essential operations were allowed and each case had to be approved by a committee. Once those hurdles were jumped, my operation for a wide local excision and sentinel lymph node removal was booked for mid-May – but I would have to self-isolate for two weeks first. A lot of thinking time for someone who has just learned they have cancer.
When the day finally rolled around I was nervous, but desperate for the tumour to be removed. Yes, I had to go into hospital on my own at 8am and, yes, all the medical staff, from nurses to consultants, were in full PPE and looked like they were dealing with a nuclear fallout, but having the cancer removed can you feel anything does anything unusual? look different? with your GP
was the first step to getting over what I had started to view as an eminently fixable blip in my life.
The operation lasted a couple of hours and I came round to hear my consultant telling me it had been successful, but I was so sore and woozy it didn’t sink in.
Gallons of sweet tea and a small bite of lunch later, I was well enough to message my family – I’m a single mum to Tyler, 20,
SIDE Charmian is recovering
Checking your breasts only takes dressed, when a few minutes. you’re showering It could be check the when whole or putting on you get breast and the moisturiser. Just and armpits. There’s surrounding area, remember to no special way, including the
Now’s TLC advice: it’s as simple upper chest as following Breast Cancer and Theo, 13 – to say I was OK. By 7pm, I was home in my own bed, feeling quite sorry for myself and determined to do nothing for a few days apart from bingewatch Normal People.
After a long, hot week-and-a-half I was back in hospital to have the dressing taken off and to see my consultant. The good news was that the tumour was
■ To find out more about the signs and symptoms of the disease, visit breastcancernow.org/tlc
grade one, only 1.8cm, and had been completely removed. But a couple of cells had been found in one lymph node, which meant chemotherapy was a possibility once more. To weigh up the best way to proceed, my tumour was flown to the USA for an Oncotype DX test, which estimates the risk that a tumour will recur and whether chemotherapy would be beneficial.
A long two weeks later, it was confirmed I didn’t need chemo – the best possible result. My oncologist outlined the next steps: four weeks of radiotherapy and I would start taking tamoxifen, a hormone therapy to lower the risk of early breast cancers returning.
A fortnight passed, and I found myself at London’s Guy’s Hospital in a machine I soon nicknamed The Spaceship, beginning 20 sessions of radiotherapy, one every week day for four weeks. I had to go alone, wearing a mask every time, and the treatment was emotionally and physically draining. I was worn out, experiencing an overwhelming feeling of pure exhaustion, which leaves you with no choice but to collapse into bed.
My skin broke and became incredibly sore – it felt like severe sunburn – and took weeks to heal.
The upside? I met so many lovely medics who really care about you and just want to make you better.
PPE might have hidden their smiles, but without them I would have struggled to get through the experience.
A month after finishing radiotherapy, I’m on my way to feeling like me again. We’re living in scary times, but if this has taught me anything, it is that cancer doesn’t hold back, even for a pandemic, and if you have any symptoms, get checked out as soon as you spot a problem. The earlier you get a diagnosis, the more treatable the tumour is. I’m so glad I got help when I did; even a small delay could have made my cancer journey very different.
I’m feeling like me again, we’re in scary times but cancer doesn’t hold back