Debbie Bailey

I was taking a bath one evening when I found the lump. Earlier that day, I’d picked my son and daughter up from school and a friend with breast cancer had turned to some of us in the playground and said: “Just check.” So I thought, ‘I’ll just have a feel...'. And there it was.

 

Within a week of seeing my GP, I was sent for tests at Royal Surrey County Hospital. After scans, a mammogram and biopsies, my doctor turned to me and said: “You’ll get the results in a week but I have to tell you now; it could be cancer.”

 

I remember sitting in my car afterwards and feeling like this wasn’t going to be good. The fact she’d said that helped me prepare: I’d had a week to process that it could be not great news. And unfortunately, my tests showed that I had grade three, aggressive breast cancer.

 

We’ve always been very open as a family so my husband and I wanted to let our children know before I started chemo. They were eight and nine years old at the time and I remember telling them: “I’m going to have some medicine that’s going to make me poorly.” My son turned to me and said: ”You’ve got cancer, haven’t you?”

 

I got cracking with three months of chemo – with treatment twice a week: it was brutal. I’d thought I could continue as normal – working; seeing friends. Everyone was so lovely and I had offers for people to pop round for a cuppa. But actually, I didn’t want to see anyone. I really tried to carry on working, but that had to stop.

 

I did manage to visit my sister in France. By that point, my hair was coming out in clumps and my brother-in-law offered to shave it off for me and so that’s what we did. It’s amazing really: I’d spent so much time worrying about that before starting treatment – losing my hair – but actually, it didn’t matter to me anymore.

 

After I finished my chemotherapy, I had my mastectomy and if I am being perfectly honest it was a bit of a shock to the system. It sounds strange to say it now, but it felt a bit like I had lost a limb. When I looked in the mirror I looked different. It took a long time to get better and be fully recovered. I didn’t bounce back as quickly as I thought I would and I remember returning to work with my wound drains still in and tucked into my pockets. My business partner thought I was mad. I wasn’t, just determined to get back to some sense of normality.

 

A year after my mastectomy I had my breast reconstruction. That was about six years ago now. What really struck me through the whole thing is how incredible your friends and family are and how the little gestures they make – cards or little gifts in the post, an offer to walk the dog, a lasagne on your doorstep – make all the difference. Even when I didn’t feel I could see people, just knowing people were thinking of me meant so much.

 

I also cannot tell you how incredible the breast cancer team at Royal Surrey were throughout that period. They have the whole process so finely tuned and they are so brilliant at it. They know how to feed you the information: they’re empathetic as well as sympathetic; they just got it so right. I felt cocooned in a nest of support and that made me incredibly positive and allowed me not to worry. I felt like I was in safe hands and I trusted the team completely. That is really so important for your mental health as well as your physical.

 

I am now about six years post treatment and no longer under the care of the team.