So, on Wednesday (20th) I visited the oncologist for the first time.

I did feel nervous about this appointment as I thought she might talk to me about statistics and reoccurrence of the cancer and I thought it might be one of those appointments where everything feels depressing.

It wasn’t as bad as I’d imagined although it didn’t get off to a great start.

My appointment was 9.40 and it was a working day for me, so I was dressed for a meeting at our head office which I was heading to straight after. It was my first time in the Aylesford Unit (which is where they do the chemo) and as always, the reception staff were lovely and the unit itself was very clean and pleasant (I think it’s recently had a facelift) so that wasn’t the problem.

The problem was the patients that were in there.

Of the first 6 patients I saw, one was in a wheelchair and the 3 of them had walking sticks, most of them were old and almost all of them weren’t a picture of health. I felt too young and too well to be in there and immediately worried that the treatment was going to do the same to me.

The oncologist was running late so I had my height and weight checked and sat in the waiting room with Dave until we were called. I can’t really explain why but I felt quite emotional and teary sat there waiting to be seen, I think because this was the next stage of the journey and probably the most unpleasant stage.

I was called into the oncologist’s office and once I’d sat down, she said to me straight away and with compassion ‘you’ve had a bumpy ride so far haven’t you?’ to which I burst into tears. I hadn’t anticipated crying quite so early in the consultation, but I think the emotion that had built up outside just spilled out. I soon gathered myself together so we could carry on and she asked me a few questions about how I’d spotted the cancer and how I’d been feeling before diagnosis. She also checked my boobs (I generally get them out at most appointments now), listened to my chest and felt my stomach. All seemed fine and she was very pleased with how I’d healed.

She went on to tell me that I would be having 6 sessions of chemo in total, 3 of one type and 3 of another – she didn’t go into huge detail about the side effects as they hand you a leaflet with them all written on that you can take home and digest – makes for lovely bed time reading!

We talked about the BRCA testing and the implications of the result and she said that she would take the blood for the test today and send it straight off – results will be back in 4-6 weeks. She seemed to think it was unlikely (given my family history) that the test will come back positive – boy do I hope she’s right.

A negative result means I will just have another small op after my chemo to clear margins on my 3rd tumour.

A positive result means a double mastectomy and an oophorectomy – major surgery and more drains.

She agreed to call me as soon as she has the results in her hand.

We agreed a start date of 6th December for my chemo to begin, but before that can happen I need to have an ECG to check my heart is fit and healthy enough to stand the treatment. I also need to meet the chemo nurses so they can go through the finer details with me and discuss whether I have a PICC line or a port fitted. As I have no lymph nodes in either arm, I don’t technically have a good arm to administer the chemo through, so I need to discuss the options available to me.

The meeting hadn’t been as horrendous as I had expected which was good, although reading the side effects of the chemo drugs later that night didn’t fill me with joy.

This is the second stage of the journey, probably the longest and I’m imagining the worst stage, but as always there are some positives.

If I start on the 6th December I should be pretty well for Christmas week which is important to me because of the boys.

I’m only having 6 sessions and not 8 which is a bonus.

I can only find 2 positives, but it’s a start.

It’s strange because I’ve had 2, maybe 3 people tell me how well I look this week – which is lovely but sadly I feel it may be short lived.

I have 2 weeks before chemo starts. I’m ready to get started because the sooner it starts the sooner it is over, but I’m scared of what it’s going to do to my body.

I know it will kill any remaining cancer cells and give me the best shot at it not returning, but the question is – at what cost?

I guess only time will tell.