When I first found the lump in my breast, I did what a lot of women do and went into denial. I mean I'd only just turned 40? I wasn't feeling ill, I didn't have any pain nor had I lost any weight. How could I have breast cancer�.I was too young right? That was the first of many mistakes that I made along the way.

I didn't tell anyone about it for a week or so but of course once I'd found the lump I couldn't stop feeling it and every time I did the lump seemed to be getting bigger and bigger. To me it felt about the size of a walnut still in its shell, Of course it wasn't that big but your mind tends to play tricks on you in situations like that. This went on for a week or more until finally I told my best friend and she gave me the kick in the butt that I needed and out of love and concern for me told my partner Marco. He did what I should have done in the first place and made an appointment to see my doctor the next day. The next ten days or so went by in a bit of a blur. I saw my GP on the Monday and she confirmed that yes, there was a lump there and referred me to the woman's imaging centre for a mammogram an ultra sound and an FNA (fine needle aspiration.) I left the surgery feeling reasonably optimistic having been being told that the lump felt mobile and didn't appear to be anything suspicious. In the back of my mind there were a few nagging little doubts but I really was quite sure it would turn out to be nothing more than a cyst�..Especially since there is no history of breast cancer in the family.

The following day I had the mammogram done, I'd never had one before and I found the whole process a little uncomfortable but not painful. I had an ultrasound done on both breasts, then came the FNA. This is a very fine needle inserted into the lump using the ultra sound ultrasound machine to guide it to the right spot and from there they extract some cells and fluid directly from the lump to analyse and find out exactly what it is. I didn't have to have this procedure done but my GP told me that it was the quickest and most reliable method of finding out exactly what the lump was so to me it made sense to get it done while I was there. I was a little worried about it, I'm not very good with needles as a rule and the thought of somebody sticking a needle into the underside of my breast bothered me greatly. I thought it would hurt terribly but I didn't feel a thing. The doctor gave me a shot of local anaesthetic first, which I didn't feel at all and the rest of the procedure was completely painless.

Two days later (Thursday) I went back to my GP for the results, still relatively confident that it was nothing more than a cyst. I can still remember the feeling of total shock that came over me when she looked at me and said, "I'm sorry Joy but its not good news." It was like being thumped really hard in the stomach. My whole body tingled for a few seconds and I was suddenly very glad that Marco was there with me. The FNA had detected nothing but cancerous cells so there was no need for any second opinions and no doubt that I had breast cancer. Marco asked her a lot of questions and I think he took in her answers a lot better than I did. I cant stress strongly enough how beneficial it is to take somebody with you for something like this because the shock of being told you have cancer is immense. From the moment those words are uttered a lot of what is said after that tends to go right over your head and when you get home it all seems like a bit of a blur.

She made me an appointment for me to see a surgeon on the following Monday and talked about some of the things that would happen now. Such as getting the tumour removed and possibly some of the lymph nodes from my armpit on that same side taken out to see if there was a chance that the cancer had spread beyond the breast. She spoke about having a course of radiation therapy afterwards and possibly some chemo depending on how big the tumour was and what type of cancer it was.
I didn't cry, I didn't get upset, I was just feeling numb and neither Marco nor I said anything when we got in the car or on the short ride home. But when we pulled up into the garage he grabbed my hand, squeezed it tight and told me that we would get this sorted out and that I would be fine. Marco is a typical Italian male, he is very passionate and wears his heart on his sleeve. He has a very strong character but despite this bold statement I could see the worry in his eyes, it was impossible to miss, all I could do was nod and smile because I wasn't ready to give in to my own fears and concerns just yet.

Next we had to tell the family, I decided straight away not to tell my family about it. All my family with the exception of my mum and my son Scott who is now 21-years old, live in the UK. But at the time Scott was living in Sydney with his godfather and my mum was staying in the UK with her sister who had just lost her husband to cancer. My way of thinking was, what was the point of worrying them? There was nothing they could do anyway so and the last thing I wanted was for people to start racing home in a mad panic. I'm a very insular person, I don't like to be fussed over and I prefer to deal with things quietly in my own mind first and as a result of this I tend to push people away a bit in situations like this. Fortunately my Italian family has a very strong resolve and they don't let me push them too far away. I was a bit worried about how my mum would take it too. We lost my father to bowel cancer in 1995, it was very sudden and it rocked our world to its very foundations. He was fine one day then sick the next and 12 weeks later he was dead. They had just celebrated their 40th wedding anniversary and it was an incredibly difficult time for her. I knew that when she found out about my cancer that she would immediately drew the same comparisons and I wanted to spare her that�..At least until I had it straight in my own mind with regards to what I wanted to do about it. It wasn't a very popular decision with my family and friends and everyone said I should tell her but I just wanted to wait a while.

I'd like to point out that I found dealing with my own cancer a lot easier than dealing with that of a loved one. Loosing my dad to this relentless disease was one of the hardest things I've ever had to deal with. Watching him fade away to nothing as the disease progressed was heart wrenching and I hope I never have to go through anything like that again. Obviously there was a big difference between my dad and me. His cancer was terminal, they couldn't do anything about it. Whereas I had breast cancer, I'd caught it early and it never once crossed my mind that it would kill me. From the moment I found out I always assumed that it would be removed, treated and that I would be okay. I don't know if that was just bravado on part or optimism or even just plain naivety. But that was how I felt for whatever reason.

Marco's family are all in Italy but we have a few people that come out to Oz with us when we are home. Our best friend Gianni who is like a brother to Marco and a big brother to me and certainly as much family to us as anyone lives in the house next door and Marco's grandmother, Nonna Anna lives with us when we are in Australia. We told them and they were a little concerned but very positive and very supportive. We also rang Marco's mum and dad and told them about it and I told a few of my closest friends. Everyone was very good about it except for me, I was willing to have the surgery to remove the tumour but there was no way I was going to have chemotherapy. I started to dig my heels in straight away despite the fact that chemo had only been mentioned in passing and that radiation therapy was more likely to be the preferred treatment. Not only was I putting the cart before the horse but I was starting to lead it ten miles down the road much to the upset of my family and friends.

Marco and I saw the surgeon on Monday and he was quite nice. He mentioned a mastectomy, which shocked me a little as that was not something I had even considered. But he went on to say that taking the whole breast wasn't proven to be any more successful than taking just the lump and I was very relieved. He drew a diagram of my breast and showed us what they were going to do. And spoke about seeing an oncologist and radiotherapist once the surgery was completed. He told us it would be just a day surgery but that I may have to go back in to have some of the nodes removed depending on what the histology of the tumour said. Then as he was writing everything up he decided that they would remove the nodes and the tumour at the same time, something I was pleased about. It seemed pointless to go in twice when everything could be done at one time. I was booked in for surgery in two weeks time, which would now require an overnight stay because they were taking the nodes at the same time and told to try and stop smoking in the mean time. I was glad for the two-week wait because everything had been happening so fast and I needed a little time to take a breath, gather my thoughts and get used to the idea�..But it wasn't to be.
The next day (Tuesday) the hospital rang to say they'd had a cancellation and I was now booked in on Friday morning. I had to go back up to the hospital on Wednesday to admitting and get the booking sorted. I also saw a doctor while I was there, I was weighed, checked out and asked about any current health problems and I also had a series of blood tests done. With hindsight it was probably better to get everything over and done with so quickly but at the time it was making my head spin.

I wasn't allowed to have anything to eat or drink on the Friday morning after 6am, I was told to shower at home and to be at the hospital for 11am. I saw a nurse when I first got there she asked me what I was having done and again I was weighed then given a gown and cap to change into. They were very good at the hospital and let Marco stay with me right up to the time I was wheeled into theatre, even in pre-op and I was very grateful for the company. I remember thinking he looked quite sexy in the hospital scrubs and the silly hat he had to wear. I've had a lot of operations over the years courtesy of a motorcycle accident when I was 21 years old so I wasn't really nervous about the surgery itself. I think I was more worried about what they were going to find once they got in there. In the outer room of the theatre the anaesthetist put a cannula into the back of my right hand obviously to feed the drugs through. Then the surgeon came in and started marking out my breast with a black marker for the surgery. I was given the pre-op medication and for about 10minutes I just lay there floating�.It was a very nice feeling LOL The last thing I remember was being wheeled into the theatre and then moved onto the operating table.

I'm told the operation took just over an hour and I woke in post-op feeling non too clever. The first conscious thing I remember doing was pulling the front of the gown out and having a look to make sure my breast was still there and I remember being very relieved that it was. The doctor came in and told me that it all had gone very well and that they were confident that they had got all of the tumour, which was the best news I could of had. I don't know how long I stayed there but there was quite a bit of pain around the breast and under my left arm and I was given painkillers.
I was brought back to the ward at around 5.30 PM, Marco was waiting for me when I got back and they let him sit with me all night and even though I slept most of the time I was glad he was there when I did wake up. I was on regular observations through the night and my painkillers were topped up several times. I couldn't move my left arm at all and there was quite a bit of pain and discomfort but they did let me get out of bed in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. I found that controlling the pole that my IV drip was hanging on was harder than controlling a supermarket shopping trolley. One thing that sticks out in my mind was how noisy the hospital was, I'm a very quiet person and noise really does my head in and I couldn't believe how noisy it was with trolleys banging and nurses talking and beds being moved up and down. By the morning I was tearing my hair out.

They brought breakfast around the next morning and I never eat breakfast as a rule but they told me I couldn't go home until I had eaten something so I grudgingly had a piece of toast as there was no way I was going to stay there for another night.
Then the doctor came around at about 10am and had a chat with us, he looked at my chart and told me I should probably stay another night since I still had the drain in. Which wasn't what I wanted to hear and I told him I couldn't possibly stay another night and that made Marco laugh. But Nonna Anna had arrived by then and with a little translation from Marco she explained to him that she has been nursing sister for 50 odd years and was more than capable of changing the drainage bottle if necessary and thankfully he was happy to let me go.
A nurse came and took out the IV tubes and gave us a replacement bottle for the drain along with a little cloth bag that I could put it in so I could pop it over my shoulder and move around a bit easier. (a brilliant idea I thought) She showed us how to change the bottle and explained that we would have to measure the fluid in the bottle at the same time everyday and mark it on the side of the bottle. I signed some papers and went home with an appointment to come back next Friday to see the surgeon again.

In the days that followed surgery I found I could get around just fine. The drain was a nuisance and kept forgetting to pick up the bag when I got up and walked around and that used to hurt a bit because it pulled. But other than that it wasn't too bad, there was very little pain with the breast itself. I found the most discomfort came from my arm where they removed the lymph nodes. I had very little movement for the first few days, it was quite sore and my left hand was numb as well. I took some quite strong prescribed painkillers for the first few days then went onto normal paracetamol

By Tuesday the drain was yielding less that 25 mils of fluid a day and they had told me at the hospital that it could come out then so I went up to my GP and she removed it for me. The relief when she took it out was wonderful. It was vacuum-sealed and when it was opened it sounded like a bottle of coke being opened for the first time and the pressure was eased immediately. She said that the wounds looked very good and that it all seemed to be healing very well.

On Friday when we saw the surgeon again the histology on the tumour was back and it was the very best news we could have hoped for. They had got all of the tumour, there were no cancer cells in the surrounding tissue that was taken and no cancer cells in the lymph nodes that were removed. We were so relieved, I can't even begin to describe how I felt. I'd picked up a bit of a skin infection so I was put onto antibiotics and until it cleared up and I had a bit of a problem with discharge from the wound for a couple of weeks, which was more of a nuisance than anything else.
So apart from regular check-ups I was pretty much done with the surgical department now. An appointment had been made at the oncology department for two weeks time to talk about what would happen next.

In the space of 13 days I had gone from reasonably healthy, to finding a lump, I had been diagnosed with cancer and had surgery to remove it�No wonder my head was spinning.