It came as a terrible shock…
‘You have breast cancer,’ my GP said in March 2008.
Just the day before, I’d found a marble-sized lump in my left breast, prayed it was a cyst.
My husband John, then 46, a
Navy engineer, was away at sea.
I didn’t want to worry our youngest, Charlotte, 9, but I told
James, 16, and Victoria, 21.
‘You’ll be OK,’ Victoria said.
But when a mammogram, biopsy and scan at Bournemouth
Hospital confirmed the diagnosis,
I sat Charlotte down.
‘I’ve got breast cancer,’ I said gently. ‘But I’ve got a good doctor, everything will be alright.’
‘Are you going to die?’ she asked.
‘No,’ I said, hoping it was true.
I had to tell John over the phone. He arranged to come home as…
