Being told you have a serious illness is the beginning of a journey that many people and families have travelled. I am two thirds of the way through such a journey as I was diagnosed with cancer on the 26 September 2013.

The journey so far has been one of many parts. It has been a journey of anxiety, acceptance, tears, hospitals, medical procedures and many miles travelled. It has also been a journey filled with love, family, friendship, support, appreciation and even fun and laughter. It has been an incredible learning experience and I know it has changed and shaped the rest of my life.

My story

My story began many months ago when I noticed some discomfort in my left breast. It was a burning soreness that came and went but eventually became more persistent, so I visited my GP. He said there was no cause for concern, no lump, probably a pulled muscle. As time passed, the discomfort continued, so I went to a different doctor who repeated what my GP had said – nothing to worry about, no lump, might be swollen glands. So I didn’t worry, but I wanted rid of the discomfort so I asked to be referred to a breast care specialist.

That visit to a breast care clinic in one of our designated centres of excellence was not a pleasant experience. How could anybody think it’s acceptable to ask people to wait for over three hours when they have an appointment?

No explanation, no word of reassurance, just sit and wait. It makes me angry to think that sick people are forced to accept inefficient appointment systems in some of our hospitals. Four hours after my arrival I left the clinic with an antibiotic prescription to treat what the medical team thought might be an “infection process” and an appointment for a mammogram when the course of antibiotics was finished.

Getting the diagnosis

Ten days later I waved the men off to the Ploughing Championships and drove to the hospital for my mammogram appointment.

The radiology department was bright and pleasant with kind, professional staff. After the mammogram I was directed down the corridor for an ultrasound scan. The doctor operating the ultrasound machine took her time and encouraged me to look at the screen and ask questions. By this time there was just one question: “Do you think I have breast cancer.” The answer was: “Yes I do.”

The significance of those three little words did not sink in immediately. I didn’t speak. I couldn’t. I just looked at the screen as the doctor took nine biopsies from three dark areas in my left breast and from an area under my arm. I heard the words “three tumours and cancerous cells in a fourth area under your arm”.

I was utterly shocked. I sat in the car feeling anxious and frightened and sad. I was sick to my stomach. At that moment I was glad I was on my own. I could cry and swear and wonder what the hell had just happened without upsetting anybody else.

Twenty minutes later I dried my tears and started the car, anxious to reach the comfort and safety of home and family. That was the 26 September 2013, the day I took the first step in my journey through cancer.