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 I was a vegetarian, non-smoking, healthy 25 -year-old with no family history of breast cancer and no concerns about it until I quite accidentally, found a lump in my right breast while scratching myself. I was in no way concerned but went to my local GP anyway. She said that it was more than likely nothing to be alarmed about but then said 'We don't like letting these things go undiagnosed' and sent me off for a mammogram and ultrasound.
In the mammogram clinic I felt a bit out of place in my purple Doc Martens, jeans, T-shirt, Walkman blaring, reading Cleo, among the older ladies there looking up at me quizzically from their Women's Weeklys. They must have thought I was waiting for my mum!
The mammogram and ultrasound both came back 'atypical' which meant very little to me. I went back to my GP and she again reassured me it was probably nothing but booked me in to see a breast specialist three and a half weeks hence.
In those weeks of waiting to see the specialist I was completely unperturbed and didn't even tell any of my friends or family that I'd even found a lump. My boyfriend, Anthony, knew as he was there when I'd discovered it. So we'd kept it a secret until we knew for sure. No use worrying everyone about it, if it turned out to be nothing. Another secret we were keeping was that we'd just gotten engaged. I'd only just returned from a three-month overseas trip and he'd proposed on the day I got home.
So when I looked in my diary to see what I had on that week and saw the appointment for the breast specialist I remember thinking, 'Oh yeah, that's right!' I went alone to the specialist on the Thursday and had the fine needle aspiration. The specialist also assured me it was more than likely not cancer and that the worse case scenario was that it was a benign cyst that would need removing. I was upset at the prospect of an operation as I'd had enough of those in my life already. She said to come back to next day to get the results.
On the tram home a horrible thought occurred to me: 'What if it's cancer?' Hot on the heels of that thought was this one: 'Nah! That wouldn't happen to me!' So blase about it, I didn't even invite my new fiance to join me at the specialist's office for the results. I didn't have a car at that time and as I had to get to my job after the appointment I asked one of my oldest friends, Gerard, if he could drive me to the appointment and then onto work afterwards. He asked what the doctor's appointment was for and I told him, 'Oh I just found a lump but it's going to be nothing, I'm just getting the results.'
In the waiting room Gerry and I were reading a magazine article about how only 1 in 10,000 women under 30 are diagnosed with breast cancer and I made a joke about how my luck is so off that I'd be that one. I wouldn't win Tattslotto, but I'd get breast cancer.
We both laughed. I was called up to the specialist's rooms and when I went inside and saw both the specialist and the nurse who'd interviewed me the day before, sitting down with solemn expressions, I wondered what was going on. The specialist asked me to take a seat and then said, 'Well, it is cancer', to which I responded with a scoff then closely followed by fits of sobbing. The nurse asked if I wanted my 'boyfriend' with me and I blurted, 'No, the guy waiting for me is my best friend, not my boyfriend ...' I was a mess. The nurse went and got Gerry anyway. Poor Gerry. What a thing to spring on him at a moment's notice! He looked shell-shocked but was wonderful, offering support and a hug.
I soon realised there'd be no going onto work after the appointment and the doctor called my work and let them know I wouldn't be in today or the next day. She told me to come back the following week to get all the info on my options as this was not a time when I'd be taking it all in. Then she wrote me out a script for some sleeping pills and left me in the care of the nurse. The nurse took me into her office and offered me and Gerry a cup of tea and then gave me a folder full of pamphlets about breast cancer. Some of the pamphlets were just not suitable to my situation, stuff like how to break the news to your children and/or grandchildren. I'm sitting there with all this info clearly aimed at older women, and wondering just how the hell I was going to tell my parents and my boyfriend! The nurse told me about support groups I could attend but I just wasn't interested. I wanted no part of this disease. It wasn't 'me'. I was supposed to be this healthy, smug vegetarian who would escape meat eaters' diseases! I'd even stopped using aluminium deodorant five years previously as I'd heard it could cause breast cancer! I was careful! How the hell did I get this? My mum, aunty, grandmother and four sisters had never had this disease! Why me? What had I possibly done to warrant this?
Gerry drove me to the chemist afterwards to fill the script and then he dropped me off at Anthony's flat. What a mate! I'd only rung him that morning to ask a favour and what a bombshell to drop on him! I let myself into the flat and called Anthony at work and said, 'You'd better come home, the news is not so good'.
He was home within minutes and when I told him the news he sat there like a stunned mullet. I just bawled and bawled. We hugged. We tried to figure out how I was going to tell everyone and came upon the decision to do the old 'We've got good news and bad news' routine. Announcing our engagement might help cheer the situation a bit, we thought.
That night, (it was a Friday) we kept our plans and went out to see a gig at some place on Smith St in Collingwood. We met up with friends and one of them asked me whether I'd had hayfever as my eyes were so red. I just said I'd had some bad news. The band were good and there was a moment when I'd felt that I'd just imagined the whole thing, that everything was normal again.
The next morning we sat at the kitchen table with our list of people to call. My mum and dad first, then Anthony's. We told the good news first and had everyone thrilled to bits. Then hit them with the bad and heard the hitch in their voices. There's no easy way to do this sort of thing ....
At the second appointment with the breast specialist, it was arranged that I would go into hospital the following week to have a lumpectomy as well as have the lymph nodes in my right armpit removed. Everything was moving way too fast for my liking. Anthony and I were in a band, and we were playing a gig at the Punter's Club around that time - I wanted to know if I could still do the gig. Anthony and the doctor looked at each other, then the doctor explained what a serious operation it would be and that I'd be out of action for a while. I imagined I'd be back at work within a couple of weeks at the least! When I was told it would be more like a couple of months I nearly fell over. At the time, I had a casual job so a couple of months off work meant no money coming in. What the hell would I do for money? I needed to pay these doctors' bills and rent, etc. I was completely overwhelmed by it all. Not to mention the implications if the cancer had spread. It was too much to take in all at once.
The lump was removed on a Monday and then on the Thursday I had my lymph nodes removed. There was an agonising wait for a couple of days to see whether the cancer had spread to the nodes and then the good news finally came in - it had not spread. Yay! I cried tears of joy and relief.
I had many visitors to see me. It was surprising the level of support offered by people. My sister in particular, who had had Hodgkin's disease when she was 21 and had recovered, was a tower of strength to me and I believe through this experience, we have grown much closer.
After the good news, I allowed myself to get excited about being engaged to the love of my life. I sat in my hospital bed poring over bridal magazines, imagining our wedding. Anthony came in to see me every day and sat with me for hours, holding my hand and discussing our plans for the future. My mum and dad came down from the country to see me and at one point I heard Anthony say to my dad while standing out in the corridor, 'So, can I take her off your hands?' That's one way of asking for my hand in marriage ...
The oncologist I saw at the hospital told me that as the cancer had not spread to the lymph nodes it was therefore not necessary to undergo any chemotherapy, which was a relief to me. But he said that I would need to undergo radiotherapy just to be sure. I wasn't too keen on the idea of having to spend another six weeks as a 'cancer patient', I just wanted out and to have my life restored to normality as quickly as possible. I booked in to see the radiotherapist anyway just to get the lowdown.
In the end, after gathering as much info as possible on radiotherapy and sweating on it for two weeks, I decided not to go through with it. This was entirely my decision and I don't ever regret it. I am now five years on, cancer free and believe firmly that I made the right choice.
The weeks following were spent recuperating at home - my two housemates were wonderful to me, cooking for me and looking out for me in general. The money situation turned out okay - the Anti-Cancer Council sent me a cheque for $220 to pay one month's rent, which was wonderful of them - it was just what I needed to tide me over. I was also able to go onto Sickness Benefits for the two months I was off work so at least I had a bit of money coming in.
It was difficult but I managed. I had genetic testing done not long after to see whether I carried the breast cancer gene and as it turned out, the geneticists could not find the gene in my DNA.
In 1996 I moved out of my shared household and Anthony and I set up our own home together. In 1998, we bought a house and finally got married. The trauma of breast cancer behind me a little further.
Now it's five years on and I couldn't be happier with my life. I still shudder to think how close I came and how lucky I was to have accidentally found the lump. How lucky that I had a GP who didn't dismiss it as 'hormonal' because of my young age! Out of everyone in the medical profession that I saw, I really have this woman to thank the most. She got the ball rolling with her words, 'We don't like letting these things go undiagnosed', she probably is the reason I am happy and healthy today. But even more so, I have myself to thank for going to see her about the mysterious little lump, in the first place ...
Mary Doyle, writing in October 2000
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Mary Doyle 
