When I arrived at the Helen Clark suite in Warwick the first thing I did was look around the waiting room, there were ladies of all ages and profiles just reconfirming how indiscriminate this disease is. You are made to feel very at ease immediately in this unit. There were good quality magazines to flick through and distract you (rare these days and not a ‘People’s Friend’ in sight) there was a coffee machine and even a small garden area. I don’t think any of these things help on your first visit (too nervous) but I’m sure give comfort if you are a regular visitor. Thank you cards adorn the walls and shelves, a symbol of hope for all the unit’s current patients.

I was called into one of the little side rooms to have my first examination by one of the consultants. I didn’t feel awkward as he examined my breasts, I was just keen to find out what he thought the lump was and saw this as a means to an end. One thing that struck me was that the highly qualified, professional male consultant had to have a female nurse in the room with him whilst the examination took place, it just reminded me of the world we live in and how exposed we are these days to accusations. I guess it is also to help women feel more comfortable by having a friendly female present.

To my immense relief the consultant told me that he thought the lump was a sebaceous cyst which he said could have been caused by a blocked sweat gland (I blame that on spin classes, I knew deep down they weren’t good for you). He told me I would have an ultrasound and mammogram as part of the thorough checks. I had both procedures, neither of which bothered me. I think the sheer relief of thinking the lump was benign made any discomfort from the mammogram tolerable. Actually, for someone who is a bit of a wimp having a mammogram really didn’t bother me at all so don’t ever let the fear of this prevent you from having your breasts checked.

The results were looked at, a discussion was had about removing the cyst under local anaesthetic and we were allowed to leave. I can’t tell you how relieved Dave and I were when we walked out of that suite. We decided to have a drink in the hospital coffee shop to gather our thoughts and we both remarked how lucky we were and acknowledged that others would undoubtedly leave that unit today with their lives changed forever.

We headed home to our office in the cellar and both started working away on our laptops, making up for lost time, heads down, immediately back into the everyday grind. Within about half an hour of us being back the home telephone rang and I dashed to answer it presuming it was my parents (who else rings on a landline these days?).

It was the hospital.

‘Hi Mrs Blackwood, we need you to come back in straight away, the consultant has had another look at your mammogram and has seen something he needs to investigate further and needs to do another ultrasound’

Shit.