On Monday 13th July 2020, Spence and I set off to collect our new pup Sandy. A bouncy rescued Bull Lurcher who we were looking forward to giving a forever home to.

A couple of weeks after getting her she jumped up at me and with her little goat hooves punched me right in the boob! The pain was intense. Like something had just burst inside me. (I’m sure there is a quick £150 in this somewhere “My dog found my cancer” Take a Break or Women’s Own love these kinds of things!)

After a few weeks of the occasional sharp throbbing pain, I decided I should go to the doctor and get it checked out. My doctor had a quick poke of my boob and told me it was likely to be an abscess and sent me on my merry way with a weeks’ worth of antibiotics and an appointment at the Breast Clinic at the RUH “to be on the safe side”. The antibiotics made me feel grim and after suffering with most of the side effects listed on the enclosed information sheet I went back for my check-up.

The lump had not reduced so I was given some more antibiotics, a different type this time. I took one, and within half an hour had to dive off a Teams call with work and throw it up! These were not going to agree with me either. Third set issued and I was optimistic that the abscess would reduce in size.

The appointment for the RUH came through and on Monday 24th of August off I trotted, mask in hand ready to get the confirmation it was an abscess. The lady who saw me has obviously seen a million boobs in her time, so I was in safe hands. After having a poke around and a proper examination I was told that it was “probably hormonal” and she would book me in for an ultrasound. “Take comfort in the fact I’m not rushing you in for this. This is just to put your mind at ease. If I were at all concerned, we would get you in today” Great. I’m happy with that and my mind is at ease.

So life carried on. I contemplated cancelling this appointment as I did not want to waste any more NHS time. I worked, I celebrated my 1st wedding anniversary in Bournemouth with Spence and things were good. For now….

Ultrasound to “put my mind at ease”

On Friday the 18th September I attended the breast unit at the RUH for the second time. The Breast Clinician was running an hour late. Wearing a mask at the best of times is rubbish, but sitting in it for an hour was hot and sweaty. I used the loo twice just so I had the excuse to take it off for a few minutes.

I was called in to a very dimly lit room with a breast clinician and two nurses, asked to undress to the waist and lie on the bed. I don’t know why they even bother covering them in those useless paper sheets as as soon as you lie on them, they rip to shreds anyway.

I chatted happily with the nurses while the clinician rubbed her ultrasound wand all over my boob and up under my armpit. I’d been asked not to wear any deodorant so was conscious that I might have B.O.! Little did I know at this stage, this was the last thing I had to worry about having.

I was complimented on my tan (something I’d worked very hard on over my period of being on furlough), how nice my nails looked and what a beautiful tattoo I had on my back. “we are just going to send you off for a mammogram now to get some more images Amy, OK?”. I’m OK with that. Not what I was expecting, and I will need to put some more money on the parking, but ok.

I went from one room to another and had to reconfirm who I was. Name, Age, DOB. Like that had changed in the space of walking 5-10 meters, but hey ho. My right boob was then TIGHTLY squished between two plates of Perspex and photographed vertically and then horizontally (I seriously hope those pictures never get out).

“I’ll send these back next door to have a look at and if we need any more images, we will call you back in”. I sat in the corridor in my robe with bra and top in hand and text Gem, Jaz and Spence to pass the time. They put me in the worst possible place they could have seated me as every time the nurses walked past, they would clip my foot or my bag.

A lady in her late 50s came and sat next to me. Through my mask I attempted to smile at her. I’m not sure what expression I must have had in my eyes, but she said “don’t worry love. It will all be ok. I have had 3 sisters with breast cancer. You are young. You’ll be alright” with that, I burst into tears. I don’t have breast cancer! Stupid woman. I have just come up to have my mind “put at ease”.

I was called back in for another mammogram. This time different angles again and squeezed even tighter. Back into the corridor. More tears. More waiting. More texting.

“Amy Spencer?” Back into the dimly lit room. This time the nurses were not quite so chatty. I laid on the bed thinking I was having another ultrasound. “So what’s happening now?” “We are going to do a biopsy of your breast” (an ultrasound guided core biopsy to be precise) OH SHIT. Things were sounding serious. A lot of people were going to a lot of effort if this was “just hormonal”. More money required on the parking.

I was injected with 4mls of 1% lignocaine to numb the area. Two 3mm incisions were made into the side of my right breast then a bloody great needle thingy was stuck in me. Did not feel a thing. Then I was told there would be a loud bang when they snipped the sample off. BANG! F**k! That hurt. I shouted and cried and was given some more anaesthetic. Two samples taken from one site, two from another. 15-20 minutes later I was patched up and they were done.

I’d gone to the appointment on my own as due to COVID you are not allowed anyone to attend with you. They asked if I wanted someone to come and get me. Spence luckily was only working in Keynsham, so was with me in 15 minutes. I cried. He cried. It was looking more likely that this was not “just hormonal”

I’m Going to Need More Vases

The week following my appointment was horrific. I called friends and told them what had gone on and called mum and discussed that there was likely to be something there, but we would just have to wait until the results of the biopsy came back the following Wednesday. I tried to remain as calm and as matter of fact as I could. I’m sure that deep down she knew something was wrong and that they don’t do all these tests and biopsies for no reason. She was very supportive and held it together very well.

I read all of the leaflets given to me about breast cancer. I skipped past all the success rates and just read about all the things they can’t treat, the rare ones, the complications, the stories where it has spread to the rest of the body, the hair loss from chemo. I was convinced that my cancer would be the worst possible kind. I reached out to friends who have had the same experiences and they were amazing. Whilst in very different situations, they had some great advice. There was also a helpline I could call with any questions. Also, very helpful.

I phoned my insurance companies just to make sure if I had to have time off work I was covered. Luckily I took out critical illness cover when I got my mortgage, so if the worst should happen to me I’d be ok. Little did I know that it’s not just enough to have cancer, oh no, you have to have x,y and z type of cancer to “qualify”. I called Aviva to discuss this. Bearing in mind I called the department who are potentially dealing with people dying of critical illnesses, I could not quite believe my ears when the lady I was taking to said “well from what you’ve told me your cancer sounds pretty bad so I think you’ll be covered”…speechless.

I’m not sure what else I did that week. Not much from what I can remember. I felt sorry for myself. Cuddled Spence a lot and had some heart to hearts and “what if” conversations. It was hard and emotionally draining. I napped a lot.

I was sent so many flowers that I ran out of vases to put them all in! I LOVE flowers, but feel I might need to invest in some more vases.

“It is a Breast Cancer”

At least I think that’s what she said when she told me.

On Wednesday 23rd of September 2020, Spence took me back to the RUH. I was so quiet that day we hardly said two words to each other in the car on the way. I was worried if I opened my mouth I’d just cry. So on this very rare occasion and unlike me, I kept my mouth shut.

This was my fourth time in Dept B3. 12:01pm I was called in to see my consultant surgeon, Nicky and a cancer care nurse, Kate. I was expecting to be taken to some plush consulting room, lovely pictures on the wall, Chesterfield sofas, big wooden desk covered in leather. Nope, back into another dimly lit room, no windows, a chair for Spence and a bed covered in more stupid paper roll.

Nicky talked me through a VERY complicated “final report” from the breast clinician and pathologist.

The Medical Bit – What I know so far or my understanding of it anyway

I have a 48mm large malignant mass in the right upper central and outer breast, extending to the nipple as well as a superficial single 8mm lymph node with an eccentrically thickened cortex. Oh and just in case that’s not enough I also have 4 very small lymph nodes with slightly thickened cortices. It’s a Grade 2 cancer (Cancer cells are graded according to how they look compared to normal breast cells and how fast they are growing. Grading is between 1 & 3. 1 = slow growing, 3 = fast)

It was found to be ER+ (pronounced as “positive” not “plus”) this means that oestrogen has bound to the cancer cells and is stimulating the cancer to grow. I THINK, this is a good thing and was one positive I took from my meeting. This means they know at least one thing that its made up of and therefore know one treatment that will help. This will more than likely be something called Tamoxifen that I will have to take for 5-10 years after treatment.

I am still awaiting to find out if this little bastard is something called HER2+ (again, positive not plus)

If its HER2+, it should respond well to chemo. If that is the case, I’ll have chemo first, attempt to shrink it, then have it removed. This will mean a smaller surgery and more chance of saving as much of my breast as possible. This way I might not even need to have reconstructive surgery.

If its HER2 they know that chemo won’t shrink it. In this case, I’d have to have a large lumpectomy to remove it and chemo after to catch any cells that may have broken off and travelled off around my body. They would then have to check it’s all clear around the edges (or margins) and then a 2nd operation to do a reconstruction.

Spencer Babies

Spence told me at the very start of our relationship that he was unable to have children naturally. I’m totally fine with that. I like dogs, lie ins, holidays, our motorhome, no responsibilities etc so children were not high up on my list of things I desperately needed to have. He has his sperm frozen from a procedure he had years ago if we ever changed our minds and wanted to have IVF.

“We need to discuss with you about whether or not you want to save your fertility?” wow. As if there isn’t enough to think about. Chemo can make you infertile. Not in all cases but in some. I needed to decide, and soon, if I wanted to have my eggs “harvested” or my fertility preserved.

An appointment for a consultation at Bath Fertility Clinic came through for the very next day. I thought it was just a chat, but it was a bit more than expected for a Friday lunch time….

“We’d best do an ultrasound to check if your ovaries are OK at this stage. Is that OK with you? It won’t take long. Have you had an ultrasound before?” “Yep. I had one at the breast clinic last week so know what to expect”

“Great if you can just take off your trousers and pants and put your legs up in these stirrups that would be great” PARDON!? No idea it would be done internally! However, it was painless and literally in and out in seconds with the consultant complimenting me on what good looking ovaries I have!

They have advised that as I’d need to undergo IVF anyway, the best option that we would have is to pump me full of hormones for two weeks, remove my eggs, create embryos using Spence’s donation to the cause, and freeze them ready to be used at a later date. I’ve been told that embryos freeze better than eggs.

Another decision we need to make and before any type of chemo takes place.

Chemo – The 3rd Worst C Word

What did I know about chemo? Not much. Your hair falls out, you feel sick and you generally feel like complete shit for 18 weeks while you undergo treatment. From what I’ve read since, that’s still about right, although it affects people in very different ways so I’ll have to wait and see what wonderful treats it has up its sleeve for me. Great.

The thought of losing my hair terrifies me. I love my hair. I take good care of it and take pride in the fact it’s a talking point because of my blonde stripes. I cannot imagine not having it. I’ve spent the last few days when I’ve been here on my own, tying it back and putting on woolly hats to see what I’d look like. It’s not going to be good. I do not have any strong enough facial features to detract from the fact I’ll be bald. I keep wondering what my scalp looks like. It will be very white, I know that much. Fake tan will be required! Spence and I will look like Right Said Fred! Also, it can grow back a completely different colour and style. Can you imagine if I ended up with an afro?

Yes, you can get great wigs, yes it will grow back, yes Spence will still love me no matter what, but I don’t care about that at the moment. I can’t quite come to terms with it yet.

Boob or no boob?

When I was first told I had breast cancer I immediately said “if you have to cut my boob off to get rid of it, just do that” since this off the cuff statement I’ve very much changed my mind.

I’ve always struggled with my body image and never liked how I look or much about me, but I’ve always quite liked my boobs. Whilst they are not huge by any means, they are symmetrical and quite pert. The added bonus with boobs is as soon as you put on any weight, they get bigger! And it helps that Spence is a fan too. I am sure he cringes a bit when we go away on holiday anywhere and I decide to sunbathe topless but after 6 years he is used to that now. I am sure he secretly enjoys it when we rock up and new holiday resort and I send him scouting around the pool to see if anyone else has their boobs out.

The thought of not having one now really worries me and I don’t know how mentally I will deal with it. I want to save of much of it as I can, if I can whilst also making sure all the cancer has gone.

You see these images of ladies posing with their full mastectomies and their courageous tattoos on their scars etc. That is not going to be me.

The surgery options you can have these days are nothing short of amazing. You can have a bit cut off your back and swung round to make a boob, you can have your tummy tucked and pulled up to make a boob! there are all sorts.

“Can’t you just get a boob job?” that is what I thought. I’ll just have an implant put in. But then you get shown some pictures. ONE implant is not what you think. It will NEVER look like your other boob. It won’t move. It will not soften when you lie flat. It can go hard. Your body can reject it. The list of complications is endless, like with all surgery. Do not get me wrong I know that this is ok for some people, but for me I’d like to go back to being as natural as possible as feel as much like the Amy I was.

So what’s next?

  • I have a CT scan on the 1st October (very annoying as it clashes with my IKEA delivery!) – This is to see if the cancer has spread anywhere else. I’ve been told this is “unlikely and this is just a precaution because of the size of the cancer” I’ve also been told that CT scan results are very inaccurate and at least 30% of CT scan results are incorrect! IF the cancer cells have escaped then they will get zapped by the chemo either way before or after surgery.
  • I need to get the results of the HER2 test back – no date for this yet.
  • Once I have the HER2 results I can make a better-informed decision on surgery options and chemo before or after.
  • I have a provisional date in the diary for surgery on the 9th. I personally can’t see that happening as there is so much that needs to happen between now and then, but I have to prepare myself for it just in case.

And breathe…….so that’s all from me for now. I appreciate it is a LOT to read. Believe me, It was a LOT to write, but there are so many things that people want to know. I’m trying to cover it all off while its fresh in my mind. If you are reading this, you know me. I am not going to hold back. I’m going to speak my mind. I’m going to swear and cuss and complain a lot, but if I didn’t do that, I wouldn’t be me would I?

Is anyone still reading this?

Let me know if you are. I hope you are. It’s quite cathartic for me doing this and an easy way to update so many people on where I am with it all. Promise that the next updates will not be so long.