The consulting room is small and full - 2 doctors and 2 nurses looking sympathetic. That's not encouraging. "We've found an unexpected diagnosis of DCIS - that is the earliest form of breast cancer. I'm afraid we're now at the start of a process...". I feel distinctly wobbly and the butterflies in my stomach that have been intermittently flying over the last week now start flapping in earnest and don't stop in the near future. The second biopsy is a mammogram-guided biopsy to ensure the tissue samples include the calcification spots highlighted previously. This involves an uncomfortable 30 minutes with my breast clamped in the X-ray plates and a number of tissue samples being taken – unwisely, I look down and there is a lot of blood on the glass. The radiographer hastily wipes it up.
I wait for the results of my second biopsy a week later - there are even more people in the room than last time...not good. The consultant confirms that the DCIS is in at least two quadrants of my breast and a mastectomy is the recommended next step. My husband reaches for my hand. I feel slightly detached like it's happening to someone else. The consultant looks concernedly at me. He says, "The prognosis is very good - I'm glad we're talking to you now and not in 18 months time though as we would be having a very different conversation". This is the theme that stays with me throughout my experience - the sense of a near miss, what could have been.
Back in the consulting room my immediate reaction is, "I haven't got time for this. I'm busy - my son, my husband and family, work, friends, house, plans, exercise. My priorities are 1. I need to live, 2. Recover quickly and 3. Worry about how I look afterwards".
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