I was just relaxing on my sunbed in Cyprus knowing that when I returned home I had an appointment with the doctors.

I had noticed another lump on my right breast. I had been treated at my local hospital for the last few years with repeated cysts on both breasts. The last time there were numerous cysts in each breast. Each time they were aspirated and was told by my consultant that they were caused by hormonal activity due to my age. I was in my fourties.

This time, at the age of 47, I was a little apprehensive about this large cyst but put it in the back of my mind for the duration of my holiday, not even telling my husband, as this was a much-needed holiday.

On the plane home I mentioned it to him and told him it was probably a cyst again, but I think we both knew it seemed different this time.

I went to the doctors and within two weeks I was referred to the hospital. Again I was told it was a cyst and it was subsequently drained, but as it was three years since I last had a mammogram, the consultant sent me for a mammogram and ultra-sound scan. This cyst was to save my life.

I had the mammogram and whilst the radiologist was looking at the scan he seemed a little concerned and told me he had found small clumps of what could have been calcium deposits, which are harmless, but on his advice it would be in my best interest to have a biopsy to make sure. He gave me a note to take back to my consultant with his recommendations.

My consultant was quite shocked at his findings but assured me not to worry at this stage. Because of my age he was almost certain they were calcium deposits. Two weeks later I was booked in as a day-case patient and was told it would be an unpleasant procedure. As there was no lump to take the biopsy from, under local anaesthetic a fine wire was inserted into the breast. Using the mammogram x-rays for guidance, the area of tissue could be pin-pointed and the wire removed.

Having had nothing to eat or drink from midnight, my right breast was in the mammogram x-ray machine for 45 minutes when a blood vessel burst. I was in pain and felt faint, but after a rest I went to the theatre. My pulse was racing and I was feeling anxious when the anaesthetist asked me if I was nervous. Who wouldn’t be after this procedure. I was worried that I might have cancer. I was given a pre-med to relax me and was still heavily sedated when I was taken back to the ward. Other patients were coming and going but I was out of it. The ward was about to close for the day and so they tried walking me. With the help of my husband they managed to get me dressed. I do not remember the five-minute drive home, in fact I don’t remember anything of the evening until my husband walked me upstairs to go to bed.

The following day I felt scared and emotional. I think this was the point when I had to come to terms with the possible outcome. Two weeks later I was booked in for the results. I will never forget that day. It was September 11th and I was watching coverage of the news on the horific events in America whilst I was waiting for my husband to return home from work. My problem seemed trivial to what those people were experiencing.

My consultant was on holiday and I saw his understudy. When he entered the room with a specialist breast-cancer nurse I knew it wasn’t good news. I had Stage 0 DCIS (Ductal Carcinoma in Situ), the earliest stage of breast cancer which cannot normally be felt but shows up on a mammogram as calcifications – white calcium deposits. I was told not to worry unduly. Treatment could be just about waiting to see if anything developed. They would keep a close eye on it.

I couldn’t take it all in. Everything seemed a blur. I just wanted to get out of the room. I couldn’t ask him any questions. With that I was given another appointment to see my consultant the following week. The long walk down the hospital corridor to our car seemed never ending. My husband and I didn’t speak, didn’t hold hands, we couldn’t believe what we had just been told. Had a snack for tea that night before going to see my mum in hospital. Had to keep it together whilst I was there. When I got home the tears flowed.

The following week I saw my consultant who seemed almost as shocked as me. He felt very sad for me. I had no actual cancerous lump, but DCIS was found extensively throughout the breast and the best option for survival for me was a mastectomy as soon as possible, with auxiliary clearance. Depending on the pathology report some or all of the underarm lymph nodes will be removed and analysed to determine the amount, if any, of lymph node involvement. This can be an indication of how much, if at all, the cancer has spread to secondary sites within the body and would be a factor in deciding the overall course of treatment following surgery.

My consultant also asked me about having breast reconstruction at the same time. This would involve major surgery taking muscle from my back and stomach, re-situating my belly button at a later date.

I couldn’t take all this in, I needed time to think, but he would only give me two weeks. From being told a week ago not to be unduly worried to having to make a major decision was scary. It was just like being on a roller coaster and not being able to get off. Everything was happening quickly. Would I still see my daughter’s 21st birthday or graduation ceremony?

I went away and read as much as I could on my condition and researched breast reconstruction, all the pros and cons, and came to my decision. The reconstruction would make the operation much longer with added risks. I would be in intensive care for two days, that frightened me, and there could be problems with the procedure. I decided this wasn’t for me. I had a wonderful husband and two beautiful daughters. If I could just come out of this operation with a good chance of survival I was not willing to put them or me under extra pressure for reconstruction. Physical imperfections and regular check-ups are a small price to pay. I could live with that.

I told my consultant of my decision and he admired my positive approach, saying that it was the best decision for me. If I couldn’t cope with my breast loss I could have reconstruction in the future. I thought, “let’s take one step at a time.”

It was October and I was thinking about Christmas and all the shopping. Family from Scotland were coming down. I was trying to put off the inevitable. I asked my consultant if my mastectomy could be put off to January, it was only eight weeks away. He told me he wouldn’t be able to guarantee that I would see my 50th birthday if I put the operation back, and advised me against it. He would not leave the consulting room until I had agreed a date for the surgery within the next two weeks. That’s when it hit home. The seriousness of it all.

In between the serious talking, my consultant and I were able to have a laugh and just before going to the theatre we both enjoyed a joke. I trusted him to make a good job of the operation as I still wanted to wear sleeveless tee-shirts. A sense of humour helps you get through it. I also felt a great calmness coming over me. Someone was helping me through this. To this day I know my Dad who died some years before was there every step on the way and this gave me great comfort and strength.

The operation went ahead one week later. Everything went well and I was only in hospital for four days. Another week later and I was told my lymph nodes were clear and I needed no medication or further treatment, other than regular check-ups. First it was every three days for the wound to be drained, then every two weeks, four weeks, six months, and now every year with an annual mammogram. I was extremely tired after the operation which is normal, but I looked after myself, having plenty of rest which gave me time to come to terms with my appearance. My consultant was brilliant.

I was determined to stay positive and not dwell on it. I think that helped my recovery. I never felt the need to go to support groups. I could deal with this on my own and just wanted to get back normality in my life. I never felt in my mind that I felt unfeminine with one breast (and still don’t) and with the prosthesis who knows anyway. I still wear swimsuits or bikinis on holiday.

In the first few weeks after the operation the support from family and friends was overwhelming. I didn’t know how loved I was. I know some people do not have the support of family and friends to call upon but there is plenty of help in the form of support groups. I would add that you don’t know how brave you are until you have to be, and that you don’t know how much faith you have until it’s all you have.

Five years have now passed and I was here for my 50th birthday and I did see my daughters’ 21st birthdays and I did see my daughter’s graduation day. Live and enjoy life to the full, nobody knows what’s round the corner.