One year on

A year ago today Jen was first diagnosed with breast cancer. On the Friday before she'd had test results from a mammogram that indicated something that needed to be checked further (the scan was in response to the discovery of a lump, but that's a story for another blog posting). We were a bit worried, but our GP at least wasn't communicating extreme concern. Jen had an appointment with a breast surgeon three weeks into the future. Then on the Monday morning they rang Jen mid-morning to say there was a cancellation at about 12. Jen had a mad scramble to get the scans from her GP before driving to the (private) hospital to see the surgeon.

The breast surgeon was fairly sure, on the basis of the same scans and an examination, that it was breast cancer, and assessed the primary tumour as about 7cm across. You might be wondering how anyone could miss a breast tumour the size of a tennis ball, in themselves or someone else -- again that's a story for another blog posting. It was assessed as stage 3 cancer, locally advanced.

Jen rang me at work sounding very shaky, and said it was bad news and she needed to see me at work. Somehow she managed to drive there without having an accident, though I think she went through a red light. I was hoping it might be a small tumour, treatable, and with good prospects, but it was the opposite of that in every way.

At that stage we didn't know that there were secondaries (i.e. that it was metastatic) - that news wouldn't come for another three weeks. But that was the day when the bottom dropped out of our plans for the future, when we knew that Jen's time was limited. Our grief in those first few days was as intense as any time since -- lying awake at 3am crying. The next day we told the boys about Jen's breast cancer. We began the long process of ringing our family and friends, most of which fell to me since Jen didn't think she could cope with much. Even though I developed a "spiel" of medical news, each conversation was hard, breaking bad and unexpected news, deepening my own grief. It was then that some friends began to gather closely around us, and they were the ones who stayed with us to the bitter end.

Why am I going over old ground? To remember Jen, and to appreciate again the love of those who listened and helped us. Thank you.