I’ve got to be honest; this is a hard blog post to write!  At the moment my cancer is stable, and I’ve even joined the gym.  However, there’s no getting away from the death sentence that is life with metastatic cancer. So, how did it all begin?

It’s spring 2021 and we are coming out of another lockdown.  I’m watching Stand Up to Cancer, and it occurs to me that maybe I should check my own breasts, as the lady on screen is telling me she did.  What I do not expect to find is my very own lump.  I tell my husband; he goes away for a bit and then comes back to tell me to get it checked.  I tell my mum; she says the same.

Weeks pass.  I’m on holiday, and I finally hear back from the GP with whom I’ve requested a ‘phone consultation.  Her response to the lump puts me at ease.  It must be blocked milk ducts due to decreased breastfeeding; I am to massage the lumps in the shower and apply cold flannels to avoid mastitis.

More weeks pass.  I realise there are actually two lumps.  This time the GP sees me in person, but again she is reassuring.  I have no worrying symptoms.  Just as a precaution, she will send me for a scan.  But it’s nothing to worry about.

At the hospital, reality bites.  Did you know you’ve got a lump in your armpit?  Will you be OK to drive home?  Can you come for an urgent biopsy?  The nurse’s hand on my arm and the doctor’s concerned face tell me I most definitely do have worrying symptoms and this is confirmed in a letter weeks later.

Throughout chemotherapy, surgery and radiotherapy I am repeatedly told that I am high-risk, meaning recurrence is likely.  More than half of my lymph nodes are still cancerous even after chemo.  Therefore, it almost doesn’t come as a surprise when I am diagnosed with secondary breast cancer.  It had already spread to my spine and pelvis when I started treatment; this is picked up by what is supposed to be a final CT scan.

And so, the journey I am on has a whole new destination, and who knows how many forks in the road ahead.  I complain to the GP but am told they followed all the correct protocols.  I change GP.  Time and again at my support group, I hear of misdiagnosed joint pain for people now living with incurable cancer like me.  Something must change.