Fear and loathing in Norfolk

In honesty, the days leading up to Hospital appointment number three are a bit of a blur. I know that they dragged, and there was hardly a moment when I didn't have fear of the results in the front, let alone the back of my mind.

Housework did help. Getting someone else in to do the garden and do some painting also helped, but to this day I'll swear that there must have been 10 pregnant women somewhere who had no desire to nest at all! I thought I'd done a reasonable job before both children, but clearly not - I accumulated stuff. This time I was ruthless in my eviction of anything not entirely necessary to the household. 

I kept the children, and my husband of course ;-) Our jack russell didn't enjoy the experience (she doesn't like change, or hoovering) but as she has received two nice new beds out of it, I think she has forgiven me.

Underneath all the bravado was (and still is to be honest), a very scared person. I think by this stage I had convinced myself that, as my nodes were swollen, and due to the size of the lump, as well as the changes in my other breast, the cancer had spread. I am a natural born cynic, and was basically waiting to be told I'd got to have both breasts off and chemo to boot. Obviously, I want to be disappointed but both my husband and I were preparing ourselves for the worst.

I still hadn't decided what to do about breastfeeding my son at this point and was desperately clinging to the fact that I needn't give up until my hospital date was confirmed. What I wanted to avoid though was mastitis. I've had it twice (same place - where the lump is, which seems suspicious to me) and it is vile. 

Imagine flu, and then double it, along with the feeling you've been punched in the boob. That's mastitis.

At times, I'll admit that I loathed my body and felt that it had totally let me down. What I tried to remember is that it wasn't my body's fault, it was the cancer. Not always easy to be rational though.

One thing I have been reminded of rather incessantly during all the hospital visits is that cancer is an indiscriminate bastard. It doesn't matter whether you are old, young, fit, fat, nice or nasty. If you take its fancy it will strike. All you can do is fight it and hopefully kick it out.