Honeymoon shower shocker!
Tuesday 8th July 2008
Coming home from holiday makes you feel miserable at the best of times. But this was a post-holiday come-down with a difference. It was October 2006, and I'd just got back from the trip of a lifetime to Australia. Now, here I was, in St James's University Hospital, Leeds, with a nurse rolling a scanner over my breast. I wish we were back in Oz…
Just 11 weeks earlier, James Wild, 33, and I had married in front of 100 family and friends, at a country house in Yorkshire. To say I'd loved every minute was putting it mildly. Dressed in a white, floaty dress, I'd sailed down the aisle. It sounds so corny, but I'd felt like a princess.
We'd scrimped and saved for our big day, and it had all been worth it. And with no money left for a honeymoon, our families had asked guests to donate to a holiday fund. Instead of wedding presents, they'd paid for a trip to Australia.We'd visited the rainforests in Cairns, seen Ayers Rock and Alice Springs, before heading to the Great Barrier Reef. Where I'd had a horrible surprise.
I was in the shower, when I felt a lump, about the size of a 5p piece, in my right breast.
'It's probably nothing,' James said gently.
I wasn't worried. I was fit, young, and healthy. And happy. I'll get it checked out when I'm home. And that's what I was doing now. As well as a scan, doctors did a biopsy — a small piece of tissue was removed, to be checked. A week later, we got the results...
'I'm afraid you have what's known as grade-three breast cancer,' the doctor said matter-of-factly. My mouth went dry, as he told me the cancer had to be treated. Fast.
'We'll treat it aggressively, as you're young,' he explained.
'But no one in my family's had cancer,' I blurted out.
'It's just one of those things,' he said, as I sobbed.
'We'll remove the lump,' the doctor went on. 'You'll need chemotherapy and radiotherapy.'
I knew what that meant. I'd lose the long, brown hair I'd grown for our wedding. But then it hit me. My hair seemed such a silly thing to care about. Without treatment, was I about to lose everything? So, four months after the wedding, in December 2006, I had the operation.
When I came round, James was with me.
'The surgery was a success and we removed lymph nodes from under your arm to check if the cancer has spread,' the surgeon told us.
Ten days later, there was good news — no cancer in the lymph nodes. But I still had to have chemo.
'Here goes,' I said to James. 'Hope you still love me with short hair.'
'Always,' he said.
I'd decided to cut my hair, so losing it would be less of a shock. So, with a new bob, I went to Leeds, with my mates, Marie Parker and Josie Meade. Giggling, we went into a wig shop.
'Do I look good blonde?' I smiled, trying one on.
'You look great,' Marie grinned. Soon, my hair began to fall out.
'Right, I'm shaving it off,' I told James, grabbing his hair clippers.
'I love it,' he grinned afterwards, as I modelled my bald head for him.
But my hair loss wasn't the only side effect. I couldn't go the lab where I was as a researcher, as the chemo left me exhausted. And for a week every month, I felt so sick, all I could do was curl up on the settee. James was great. He'd dish up pasta when I felt well enough to eat, and kept the house clean. And he wasn't my only support. I logged onto chat forums set up by Breast Cancer Care and Breakthrough Breast Cancer. It was good to know I wasn't alone.
I finished chemo in June 2007, and was given Tamoxifen to try to stop the cancer returning. To celebrate the end of my treatment, and our first anniversary, James arranged a surprise — a hot-air balloon ride in the Peak District. I blinked back tears of happiness as we rose above the countryside. Then, this January, a scan showed I was clear of cancer. I crumpled into James's arms and cried with relief.
My honeymoon surprise wasn't exactly what I'd had in mind for our dream trip. But when I look at the photos now, I can smile as I think about what an amazing time we had. And now, with the cancer behind us, we have the rest of our married life to look forward to.
Help Breakthrough Breast Cancer by taking the Adidas Women's 5k Challenge, on 7 September. Visit www.womenschallenge.co.uk or call 020 7025 2483. For more information about Breakthrough, visit www.breakthrough.org.uk