I asked for a letter from the Conquest to say what my diagnosis was but another document went to my GP surgery because the chief surgeon’s secretary said I wouldn’t understand it. That conversation was with my husband on Monday. Anyway when I rang the GP surgery on Tuesday the receptionist said it had arrived the previous Thursday and a locum doctor would ring me at 9 am on Thursday to explain what it said.
She rang at about 9.10 am and said immediately that it was a recurrence of my original cancer which I was diagnosed with in 2003. I got my diagnosis 6 months after I had gone to my GP in early June 2003 when I lived In Newham, E13. The diagnosis initially was a benign fibroadenoma. It was only when I had this removed by day surgery in November 2003 that I found out at my post op appointment it was this rare cancer called glycogen rich clear cell carcinoma. It was low grade, low proliferation score (how quickly it was dividing), and a small tumour - less than 1 cm. So they said I would be having a quadrantectomy plus radiotherapy later. To cut a long story short, I had further surgery on 19 Dec, was in hospital for about ten days from Christmas Eve onwards with a wound infection having IV antibiotics, these didn’t clear it, so then it was make a hole in the side and pack it with seaweed gel I think it was, until it healed from the inside.
then a delay of some weeks until I had radiotherapy and finally escaped in May 2003 vowing never to return.
and that is how I left it until rediagnosed with two new tumours with the same cancer apparently 19 years later. What I want to know is
Cancer develops from one cell that divides to two, then four, then sixteen etc exponentially without stopping so in my stupid brain by removing the cancer it is gone. But each cell can divide exponentially I suppose so there’s always a risk that the cancer is left behind. I used to wonder when the first cancer cell mutated. I thought it might have been ten years before I found my lump, say 1993. If I have now found more cells in 2022, that means I have been living and coexisting with breast cancer for roughly 30 years without it spreading to my bones, lungs, brain, or anywhere else. But maybe I am wrong as I am a bit of a dimwit these days. I had better fly off to my nest amongst the chimney pots
Seagulls