I don't suppose anyone thinks they are going to be told that they have breast cancer. I didn't. I am 41 years old, I don't have any family history, I don't smoke and have no previous problems. Then one day I woke up and things just didn't seem quite right. I knew that there was a problem straightaway. From the look on my GP's face ... and that of the Breast Cancer Consultant ... and then the Ultrasound Consultant ... and finally the way the receptionist greeted me at the Breast Care Unit when I returned for my results.
Having said that, nothing prepares you for the moment that you walk in to the consulting room, and before you arse hits the chair, you are told that "The lump is cancerous". The room spins and the voices sound similar to Charlie Brown's teacher ... you can hear them but they make no sense. Blah, blah, blah. You only make out the occasional words - cancer; malignant; chemotherapy; radiotherapy; herceptin; surgery; mastectomy; lumpectomy; personalised treatment; hair loss; wigs.
You look up and think that this cannot be happening. It feels like you are on a huge, scary rollercoaster ... and I hate rollercoasters. I want to hit the emergency stop button and calmly walk off ... but sadly this rollercoaster does not have an emergency stop button.