I wake up apprehensive and still tired. Our appointment isn't until 3.10pm which just prolongs the agony. We arrange for Grandma and Grandpa to pick the children up from school and head off. It's a strange journey. Chris and I hardly speak, we just listen to The Greatest Showman CD for most of the journey. When 'This Is Me' come on the lyrics hit me.
I've learned to be ashamed of all my scars
Run away, they say
No one'll love you as you are...
These past few months have been so tough. I've piled on weight which hasn't helped but more importantly I've lost myself. I feel different, less confident and despite my positive and bubble personality, I hate what I see when I look in the mirror.
Soon enough we arrive in the car park, we hold hands as we walk in to the hospital. I give my name in at the desk and head to the usual waiting room. My heart begins it's usual pounding. I hate the waiting, its agonising. For me not knowing is worse than knowing. I hate the unknown.
Despite our usual hour in the waiting room, today we are called out of the packed waiting area after about 10 minutes - this never happens.
I real of my date of birth and head in to see Mr M. Today as well as my consultant and two nurses there is another man in there, he's introduced as the Lead Registrar. I'm asked firstly to head behind the curtain and take my top clothes off. It seems daft that they pull the curtain over so Chris - my actual husband - is the only one that can't see my baps!
Mr M says everything is looking good. They had added 250cc into the expander during surgery. Today he would add 50cc more. The needle is huge, so much so that Mr M makes a joke about it being like the needle from Pulp Fiction.
Looking at that image though, Id say my syringe was definitely bigger. Don't panic though ladies - the needle itself is no bigger than the needles they use to take blood.
It's a strange sensation as the saline goes in. The expander moves around inside as it's filled, it's uncomfortable but it's nothing compared to what I've been through so far. My heart is still pounding, wondering the outcome of the results so the syringe moves up and down as my chest moves.
Once complete I get dressed and head back out beyond the curtain. It's time.
"Ok, we've got the histology results back. There was more DCIS in your breast - another 10cm - so in fact it was basically right through your entire breast...
...BUT... (I cling on to this 'but' for what feels like an age, awaiting my fate)
...we have managed to get it all. We've discussed your case in the MDT meeting this morning and because no invasive cancer was found and the lymphnodes we took were clear, you will not need and radiotherapy or chemotherapy."
THANK GOD. SCREAM IT FROM THE ROOFTOPS. DING DONG THE CANCERS GONE.
He continues to tell me I definitely made the right decision having the mastectomy. There was always a chance that there would be no further disease at all and that my breast could have been saved but in my case my whole left boob had been riddled.
The only remaining treatment - should I decide to take it is a tablet called Tamoxifen. Mr M tells be approximately 13 times that one of the main side effects is vaginal dryness. No word of a lie - they are pretty much the only words I remember from that discussion. And, whilst vaginal dryness is certainly no laughing matter, I did struggle to contain my giggles.
Rather than deciding what to do straight away, I'm given a leaflet to take away and decide over the week what to do.
For now though, with my aching filled up boob, we head home with the best news we've had in 6 months.