The human pin cushion

Well, that was fun. Not. Spent another full day in the delightful oasis of calm that is Ealing Hospital. But at least we're finally making some progress towards getting that treatment plan.

Had the obligatory chat with my Macmillan Nurse and got a whole library of literature to peruse at my leisure. To be fair, I already knew quite a lot of the stuff that she told me but the key points are that my tumour is:

• An Invasive/Infiltrating Ductal Carcinoma - so has already spread from the milk duct, where it started, and into the breast issue.
• Stage 1 (probably) - in that it seems to be less than 2cm.
• Grade 2 - so growing at a moderate speed.
• Hormone responsive - and feeding on the oestrogen in my body.

We talked a lot about possible treatments too but all of that is academic until the full set of tests are done to ascertain what else, if anything, might be there.

And so we began. First with a blood test (urgh!) and then with a 30-minute MRI scan (double URGH!). The veins in both my arms are thoroughly bruised and battered. How they're going to find a free vein to stab tomorrow at my bone scan, Christ-only-knows, but if it means I can see the back of this parasitic little f*cker, so be it!

Say, WHAT?!

Last week I heard the words that no-one wants to hear. (Or at least I did once he'd repeated it about three times ... ) It was just too surreal.

I genuinely didn't think I had breast cancer. While there was always the nagging outside chance that it could be, there really wasn't any reason to think that it was. I'm only 38. I'm slim, I'm healthy, I don't smoke ... and, while I do like the odd tipple, there is absolutely NO history of breast cancer in my family.

Apart from being shocked, I was really bloody annoyed. How. Feckin'. Dare. You. Yes - YOU, you pesky little tumour. The unwanted gift. The uninvited guest ...  Who the bloody hell asked you to the party?

So that's why I've started this blog, to chronicle my belligerent one-woman battle. And I'll start as I mean to go on, by saying loud and clear:

"CANCER, you CAN F*CK right OFF!"