By SHAE SPRY
As soon as the specialist took my hand I knew what she was going to tell me. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “It is cancer.” It was surreal. Breast cancer was not a possibility I had entertained. I bowed my head and wailed for a few minutes, all the while thinking “But I’m only 24, I’m not finished yet. I’m not finished yet.”
I couldn’t think of any question to ask apart from “I’ll survive?”
“We don’t know yet,” the specialist replied. “We need to do more tests.”
I insisted on having those tests done immediately. I was having more biopsies, mammograms and ultrasounds, within half an hour. I felt that I needed more information if I was to deal with this new reality. I recall chatting to the people administering the tests – about their kids, about my recent trip overseas for uni – as if everything was normal, only I still had tears wetting my flattering hospital gown. I was in shock and on auto-pilot.
The next day brought relief: I had caught my cancer early, so it was not likely to take my life. However, there was no time to waste! My cancer was classified as small, but it had a medium growth rate.
The following week, I had surgery for the first time. I had a lumpectomy which removed my cancer and a margin of safety around it. I also had three lymph nodes removed from my underarm to test whether cancer was spreading via the lymphatic system. Just before surgery, to identify the lymph nodes to be targeted, I had a blue radioactive dye injected into my nipple (ouch!). I watched the screen with the silhouette of my body on it, and as the dye travelled through my system, the lymph nodes lit up like stars in the night sky.