On average, four women are diagnosed with breast cancer every hour. Discover just some of the real life stories behind the statistics...
Carla Brenner-Roach, 45, is a Pilates instructor and lives with her husband and three children in London. She was diagnosed with breast cancer in 1994.
“I didn’t feel a lump at first. It was more an odd kind of cramping on my left side, a bit like indigestion. But I knew from my GP’s face as she was pressing the area below my bust that there was a problem. It turned out that there was a lump. I just hadn’t raised my arm when I checked my breasts, so I wasn’t getting the leverage to feel it.
I was booked in to see a consultant the next day and took one of my closest friends along. My husband David was away and I didn’t want to tell anybody until I knew what was going on. They did a needle biopsy and ultrasound and I kept thinking, ‘Nothing’s going to happen. I’ve got three lovely children and a wonderful life. Everything will be fine.’
The diagnosis
The lump turned out to be an aggressive cancer; not hormone-based, but a genetic mutation. My body had done it to itself. I was stunned. By then, David was home and the surgeon told us he wanted to remove more breast tissue and lymph nodes. ‘But it’s my birthday in two days and I’ve got this big dinner planned,’ I said. If it was bad news and the cancer had spread to my lymph nodes, I wanted one last good, happy birthday. We compromised. I moved my celebration forward and the consultant told me not to eat or drink anything after midnight.
I remember before the operation going into my childrenÂ’s bedrooms and sitting there while they slept. They smelt so lovely and their breathing lulled me. I wanted to hold onto that moment forever. It was such an awful feeling to think I might not see them grow up. I felt I could deal with the news on a practical level, but emotionally it was taking some time to digest the full impact. IÂ’d wake up at night with wet cheeks from crying in my sleep and I kept torturing myself with the thought that my daughter, who was only three, might not even remember me. David was very practical and didnÂ’t want to talk about me dying, but there were things I needed to say and I wanted him to listen.
Losing my breast
Luckily, the cancer hadnÂ’t spread. I lost about a third of my breast and had to undergo six weeks of radiotherapy and six months of chemo. About halfway through the treatment I was feeling so low I just refused to go on. My father packed me and David off
on a ten-day holiday to Thailand to remind me what it was all about – we had such a wonderful time that we promised to go away together every year somewhere on our own.
WhatÂ’s more, the impact of friends pulling through for me was amazing and made me determined to be a better friend in the future.
I didnÂ’t want to rush into reconstructive surgery and felt I should appreciate being alive rather than worrying about what I looked like. But when I turned 40, I started thinking seriously about it. I knew that on the NHS they take a piece of muscle from your back to put into your breast, which can cause complications when youÂ’re older, but it is possible to do breast reconstruction using stomach muscle.
I found a surgeon, Chris Inglefield, who was prepared to do it and after the operation I realised how my confidence had been affected before. I hadnÂ’t felt sexy since IÂ’d had the cancer. The surgery completely changed the way I felt about myself.
In so many ways, surviving breast cancer has turned my life around. I’ve become a better mother, wife and friend. The consultant warned me that because of the kind of cancer I had, it could return at any time, so I no longer waste energy on things that don’t matter. And even though it’s sometimes hard, I’m determined to make the most of every single day.”
- Chris Inglefield is a reconstructive and plastic surgeon. Tel: 0845-0092775.
