Day 4 Monday – lymph node ultrasound

In for a standard ultrasound under my arm to check out the lymph nodes. More of the same forms with the same questions and signing the same dotted lines.. Note to self.. They need to keep the checks going.

While I was lying on the bed waiting for the radiographer, the poor nurse was asking me the usual “chit-chat” questions such as “Have you been in before for an ultrasound?”. I was like “yes, last week”, thinking the poor woman has no idea. This went on for about 5 mins and I hadn’t the heart to tell her. It was only when the radiographer came in and in a way apologised to me for the bad news that the poor nurse then apologised and explained she was only back from holidays and didn’t realise. She was mortified, I just smiled as just one of those things.

Medicine is an amazing thing – things you don’t think of. Excuse my layman terms, but the radiographer inserted a “clip” around the lump to be removed (or near it at least). This is so the surgeon can locate it. I never thought about that – how would he find it when he goes in. Amazing really. How did they cope with these things years back?.

The radiographer said everything looked normal under my arm. But all I could think is that you said that last week too re the larger lump that there was no issue with to be fair, but you did find the other one underneath. So I thought best just to leave that remark behind and wait for the overall results.

After the ultrasound I went for bloods, then consulted with my team (Anna & Mum). We decided it might be a good idea to try and locate Nurse C for a chat and catch-up just to make sure we got everything from the last meeting right.

She was great as before. Very informative, but I felt for her this time as Mum came in, so no taking prisoners. At one point I loved Mum’s line, “I’m a bit older so takes me some time to understand things. Could you explain that again?” Little did the nurse know how untrue that was!

She explained everything all over again – talked of the various tests being run, Her2; Fish (spelling?), to name but a few. She also explained that we would not know for sure whether chemo would be required until all the results come back.. but definitely radiotherapy. The latter happening within 4-8 weeks after the op as need to heal. Of course I was doing the maths in my head, thinking we’ll probably close for first 2 weeks of January as we did this year so if drags on to then could I do it abroad as no one is messing with our holiday! Anyway, play that by ear.

She also explained that a biopsy is sent over to the States for testing. I found that quite mad to hear. Thinking of this little piece of me in the States under a microscope.

Carol had advised me to ask about the stage and grade I was at as they don’t usually tell you unless you ask. This was when I first heard my lump referred to as a “tumour”. Funny how these things only hit you at certain points.

Anyway, for those in the know, I’m in a good place – caught early. A T1 (they run 1-4); N0 and M0 (these won’t be really known until after the op and results back but for time being a good place to be) and G2 (running 1-3).

A friend asked me whether I had been on google – funny, I’m normally the one who would go straight to the internet, but this time round I’ve decided the best bet is to listen to the experts and my friends in the same boat and take it from there. As I did go on once for the papilloma and read a couple of slightly conflicting articles, so thought it better to leave alone.

Day 3 Sunday – therapy session with Carol

Met with on of my best mates Carol on Sunday for a few drinks. Carol knows a thing or two about breast cancer it has to be said! Carol, my mentor in waiting, has been nothing but a mine of information, an oasis of calm and a friend at the end of the phone at whatever time I need. I think she’s an angel, but she said a funny thing on Sunday,

The angels go first Vanessa, and we’re no angels, so we’ll be here a long time yet!

That made me laugh and smile and has stuck with me since!

Carol paddles with the Plurabelle Paddlers – basically a fantastic group of women who created a great dragon boat team. We laughed at the thought that a couple of years back I had been saying I’d love to join the team as it’s great fun and was told “unfortunately, you have to have or had breast cancer”, which basically ruled me out – no longer!

When I told Carol on Friday the results I told her to let her gorgeous husband Kevin know that, “Yes I want lots of attention”. For those of you who know Kevin, you’d know is lovely dark humour. For the weeks leading up to my results, Kev would send regular texts asking, “Are you looking for attention?” Each time they’d make me laugh. He was also one of the causes of our quite large hangovers on Saturday. So he has a lot to answer for!

Day 1 – prognosis!!

So I arrived with my support team in place – Anna and Mum and Dad texting me with lovely “You’ll be grand” texts that I love him for (one before bed and one waiting when I got up in the morning!).

We waited an hour before being called. I tried chit-chat, but to be honest my heart wasn’t in it. All I was thinking is their early morning meeting is taking longer than expected.. is it me?

Anna came in with me to the appointment – Mr C and a nurse (who I’ll call Nurse C as by the sounds / looks of it you get assigned a nurse as at the end of the appointment, she gave me her card and name and number to call if I have any questions, which I thought was a lovely touch. She’s absolutely fab! A mine of information).

This time round Mr. C was all decked out in his suit. Funny how your mind goes. I was thinking he’s looking very well today and that he had a lovely smile. He asked Anna to leave while he did a wee check of the lump. Then asked her back in again.

The mad thing is (since meeting him a number of weeks back) we discovered that my aunt had organised a couple of conferences with him, all around breast cancer in young women which he told me at this meeting. I thought, “at least he knows what he’s doing”. But also thinking I love Dublin it’s just too small!

To this day, I’m not quite sure how he told me. I can’t remember the exact words, it was something along the lines of, “not good news”, or something similar. I looked at him and remember asking “what do you mean?” I think he said “It’s not a good prognosis” or the like. I asked “do you know whether it’s cancer or not at this stage?” as my head was taking a bit of time to get around what he was trying to say and he said “yes it is”. At this point, I had a burst of tears that lasted I’d say 30 seconds. The nurse produced a box of tissues, which I hadn’t seen before and I was thinking – “How did she smuggle those in without me seeing?”. Annabanana was in the same state as myself.. Tears, but very together as always.

Mr. C was very compassionate as was the nurse. But all I could say is “Tell me what we need to do. Where do we go from here?”.. Funnily enough, at this point a sense of calm came over me. I kept thinking of my poor Mum outside and if I went out and didn’t ask or have all the relevant information she’d kill me! You see always on my shoulder! So the tears dried up and he started to tell us what needed to be done.

(Well mine did, Anna made great use of the tissues beside me while holding my hand.. strongest will in the world, but it hit her pretty strong too!).

In short, it wasn’t the large fibrous lump that was the problem, it’s a small wee fella behind it 1.3cm in size that they found. If it wasn’t for the larger “no problem” lump I probably wouldn’t have found it for another 6 months to a year or more and it would have been a different conversation potentially.

So basically they’ve caught it early. Supposedly most women wouldn’t find lumps until they grow to around 2cm. At this point I was thinking, “Thanks Goodie for making them leave the sebaceous cyst in as I would probably never have known”.

They did diagrams, and all that jazz for me, explaining that they had to take a margin of error away too to ensure it all comes out.. the margin of error means they’ll take my nipple. Again all I thought was “sure my days as a topless model were probably numbered” and said to Mr. C whatever he had to take, I’m happy for him to take just get it out. He talked of nipple reconstruction, which again it’s mad how the mind works, I had thoughts of reading through a catalogue and saying “yeah, I like the look of that one”, then thinking would the nipple be permanently erect or what.. crazy what you think when someone is telling you this stuff!

They’ll remove a lymph node to check, which is standard procedure, but I’d be back in on Monday for an ultrasound to check out the lymph nodes.

I asked what’s the story re radiotherapy and chemo. He said definitely radiotherapy but didn’t think chemo but tests would be run and we’d know more when the results come back after the op. This part re the chemo didn’t actually sink in until a few days later when we met the nurse again – I walked out of the appointment thinking, only radiotherapy as that’s all I heard. So potentially 5 weeks of radiotherapy Mon-Friday, but only takes 2 mins to do…

Anyway, I remember Mr. C asking me at one point did I want to go further with information or would I prefer to hold-off until a later time, but I felt I needed to know as much as I could now (again thinking Mum will kill me!).

I asked how soon I could get back to work after the op, he just looked at me as if I had 10 heads and suggested I should take some time off. Which I concurred would be a great idea, but how much? Could I be back within 4 days? 5 days? He suggested 8 days! Are you mad?! Anyway I said we’d play it by ear, which we will.

The mad thing is I felt a funny sense of relief when he told me. There were tears for that 30 second period, then I thought, Jesus I wasn’t going mad these last few days. They said it was probably a major shock for me as most women would have some type of advance warning. But I did have some form of advance warning as my body was telling me something in the previous week as for the first time ever I couldn’t stop thinking about results, whereas normally I’d be much more laissez-faire.

Mr. C left us, but the nurse then went through what was to be expected. She was a mine of information – at first I felt she was speaking Latin as she was referring to things by their medical terms, but she eventually settled into English and she gave us loads of info. It was with the nurse that I did feel myself zone out a bit.

But we left with rough dates – ultrasound on lymph nodes Monday, operation Tuesday week; radiotherapy afterwards (who knows when).

Then to tell my Mum… Mum made it very easy for me, she was strong as always. We both managed to be very together in the corridor outside the room. We just all went through the basics, then I said I just needed to get out.. Mum suggested coffee, I suggested a cigarette. So off we went outside for a chat. I know you’ll all freak at the mention of a cigarette, but I am a smoker, plan soon to be a non-smoker, but at this point, all I wanted was a cigarette.

It’s funny, at that point I was saying with this knocking on my door, I’d best give up, Mum laughed and said “Maybe not at this very point, have your cigarette now and think about that later”. Gotta love a Mum who understands your moments of weakness! As always she was a tower of strength, but I knew it was killing her inside. She rang me later talking of Anna saying what an amazing woman she is – so strong and together and calm.. We laughed as I explained she used the most tissues during my appointment – her moment – but it’s so true.

Anna is my rock and always has been. Since the day we met, Anna is the woman who grounds me, makes me realise there are more important things in life and every day reminds me that life is great once we have each other. Don’t get me wrong – she’s Catalan which means a fiery woman, so we have lots of heated “banter”, but that’s what makes it so much fun. She’s a sensitive soul, with a massive heart and a stubborn nature, all the things I love about her! She made me realise that I’m not stubborn at all in comparison!! Lol!

It was something that hit me on Friday after being told. The first thing I thought of was our business, that we’d have to make some plans and I thought how lucky I was to have Anna. I then thought of other women I knew with breast cancer in the same industry and the support networks they had around them from husbands and partners in the business. Then all I could think of were those women out there without that network. What do they do when walking out of a room after this kind of news as it all happens so quickly? Basically within a 2 week period, you’re in for op and out for recovery. If they’ve no network in place, what happens to the business they’ve built? Got me really thinking about what we can do. I chatted about it with Carol and she was right, maybe something for the New Year to plan, but certainly something we should try to put together.

So how did we react?

We went out and drank copious amounts of alcohol with great friends and had lots of laughs. Thankfully Lori had offered to look after the restaurant that night – our first Friday off in Dublin since we opened Lola’s 18 months ago. So we‘d already lined up our “usual suspects” for a night on the town – none of whom knew I was in for tests, but all of whom I’ve known for over 20 years and are some of my closest buddies.

Before heading out we had a quick staff meeting as all our crew in Lola’s are like family and everything was happening so quick that we thought it best to talk to them face-to-face rather than them hearing rumours. And it’d look a bit strange that Vanessa & Anna who have been in the restaurant 24/7 for the last 18 months, would then be just Anna with Vanessa out for “a while” while op happening and recovery. It was a bit strange, I felt like I was standing up in an AA meeting and introducing myself.

They’ve been fantastic ever since. They’ve all pulled in around Anna and myself and have been a great support – just getting the job done to the painstaking perfection we request (or they would say demand!!). For that we’re forever grateful. (Poor Sebastian, the following Monday, offered to cook me dinner at home but I explained I was curled up in a ball on sofa still recovering from the previous Friday night! Note to self, must take him up on that again!!).

Anyway, Friday was a blast and everyone was a great support – thanks for the biggest whopper of a hangover I think I’ve ever worked with! Saturday was trialling (hangover in place).

The build-up to Day 1

In the summer of last year, I found a lump in my breast. It was a surface lump which didn’t worry me too much as it was obvious to the naked eye that it was there, so I simply thought it was potentially an ingrown hair that may have got infected (lovely).

Something you need to understand about me. I’m not someone to worry until I have to.. Do the tests, get the results and then, if it’s not good news, that may be the time to worry.

Last year that was the case. I visited St.Vincents, met the specialist, he had no real concern on our first meet. We had the mammogram and ultrasound done and yes, it was nothing to worry about – 2 cysts, one underneath that they drained on the spot, one above they called a “sebaceous cyst”. Nothing to worry about and we simply left it there (in retrospect I think my grandmother Goodie up above was watching over me at this stage.. leave it there!).

About 5 weeks ago (over a year later), I called the breast clinic in the hospital and requested a check-up. The sebaceous cyst had grown quite a bit – double in size. However, in my mind I had assumed (never assume as they say) that the cyst underneath had simply filled with fluid again and simply needed to be drained.

So in we went. We being my Mum and Anna by my side.

We opened Lola’s nearly 18 months ago now – since then I’ve been in hospital for the above cysts to be checked and also for a sinus op. As many of you already know, Anna and myself have been working 24/7 in Lolas (as it is a labour of love). But what has amused me most on my visits to the hospital is always having my mum by my side. The sinus wasn’t something to worry about, but Mum was there (12 hours by my side pre-op and post-op).. Why? Sure it was the only way we could get to spend time with each other outside of Lolas. Can’t beat a mother like that! The same has been the case with my breast. She has been there each and every time – we catch up in the waiting room on all the gossip! We laugh at the people who whisper, “that’s Las Tapas de Lola”.. we talk about what Mum has been up to, her friends, the clothes or bags or shoes she’s recently bought (which is usually a lot), stuff we used to meet for coffee about before or call each other 3 or 4 times a day about before opening Lola’s – it keeps us amused.

This time round, Anna came into the “check-up” with me with a lovely young handsome guy who checked it out. Having seen the size of it, he thought it best to bring in the big guns – Let’s call him Mr. C (excuse the pun, but that’s what we’re going to call my specialist). At the time, Mr. C arrived in – suit trousers; shirt & tie; no jacket; looking a bit rushed to say the least. I explained the history of the “cyst”, nearly being apologetic about being back as thinking probably lots of women out there who are in a greater need to be checked as in my head mine was simply something that needed to be drained, but it just didn’t look nice sitting on the surface of my breast beside my nipple.

He checked it out and said that was probably the case, but we should get another ultrasound done. In my naivety (and thinking I’m here already and we have a restaurant to run) I asked whether we could get that out of the way today as opposed to having to come back again. He explained no; that I would be sent a letter for an appointment within the next 2-3 weeks and another letter for a follow-up appointment for the results. According to Mr.C, I wasn’t on the “urgent” list as they keep that for women in real need.

So all good – not on the urgent list, thinking probably the fluid again – well that’s what I held on to.

One thing that amazes me is how this country’s medical system still functions. I’m not talking about the quality of the surgeons and doctors – I think we’re well covered there. I’m talking about the administration. I was in last year for check-ups / consultations / mammograms / ultrasounds, but on this return visit. It was like I was a new patient all over again. The questions I was asked and the forms I had to fill on arrival, I kept asking – do you not have my file there? The same on my first meeting with the handsome young doctor and Mr. C. I had to repeat last year’s story and explain exactly what was the case. All I kept thinking is in this day-and-age, can you not simply pull up my file and see my history? Do I have to keep repeating myself and filling out the same forms each time?

Then I remembered my Uncle Sean. Nearly 20 years ago I sat in on a couple of ops with my Uncle Sean (he was an orthopaedic surgeon at the top of his game). I always remember one such op that he blew a gasket over as he didn’t get to speak to the patient before they were anesthetised. I asked why it was so important. He simply said, “Vanessa, I always like to ask them (for example), “which knee are we operating on today?”, before the op, just in case”.

When I thought of Sean, I laughed and said to myself, this is probably the case.. checks, checks and more checks. But after having to fill out the same forms one week after the other before having an ultrasound, I did get a slight bit frustrated to say the least.

So the letters came in.. an appointment for the ultrasound (no mention of mammogram) for 2 weeks time on Monday 8^th September and an appointment with Mr C on Wednesday 10^th September to run through the results. Now last year, I didn’t have a follow-up appointment with the specialist, I simply did the ultrasound, they drained the cyst and away home I went. So something started to niggle in the back of my brain.

In I go for the ultrasound (more forms to fill). The radiographer was lovely and all the nurses fab. They have a certain element of underlying compassion that must come from years of dealing with people in for scans, etc and dealing with cancer. Anyway at this point I had nothing to worry about (in my head). The radiographer held my hand though while lying on the bed (me that is not the radiographer) and I laughed inside thinking, “Jesus the way she’s holding my hand it’s as if she’s about to deliver some bad news”, but she was only comforting me in case I was nervous about the ultrasound. Lovely woman.

She took a quick look and recommended I should have a mammogram done as it was over a year since the last one – so off I went and had it done, came back and she took a closer look with the ultrasound.

Well at first a different radiographer jumped in and started the ultrasound.. As she was sitting there looking – two nurses were lingering in the corner, she sighed and asked them what they wanted – a kind of exasperated sigh as if “why are you disturbing me?”, the nurse told here that Radiographer No. 1 was actually looking after me.. She stopped, looked at me and said something along the lines of “well I’ll stop then”. I laughed and said to her “You’ve been told, it’s nice to know there’s 2 of you fighting over me”. And we just laughed it off. Just one of those more surreal moments.

This time round, no fluids to drain and was one large “lump”, no longer what they would call a cyst. Instead she took 3 biopsies. That was not something I wanted to hear – all I was hoping for was more fluids to drain. But she did say it didn’t look abnormal and could be a papilloma. I kept repeating the word in my head and as soon as I saw my Mum outside I said “write it down before I forget”, so we could google it later. I kept thinking of Pamplona and the running of the bulls.

If you look it up – it’s not something to worry about – like a wart of sorts that usually appear under the nipple.

I asked would the results be ready for my appointment with Mr C in 2 days, she said no, that they’d change the appointment to Friday at 11.50am. So back to work I went having had a coffee with my Mum where I found it hard to chat as the niggling really started at the back of my head. Why no fluids? It’s a lump now not a cyst? What did that mean? But we kept assuring ourselves that it’s not the big lumps like mine obvious to the naked eye you had to worry about, it was those tiny ones so hard to find that were the worrying ones.. And as they kept telling me on each and every visit – I had very fibrous lumpy breasts (just like my Mum) so probably nothing to worry about.

But I did. For some reason I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I kept asking myself why? Why can I not stop thinking about it as in the past, I was the type who would just say, “grand, let’s not worry until there is something to worry about” but I did. Every waking moment I was thinking about it. Thinking stupid things. Thinking about work, about Anna, about my family, about Paddy. Stupid thoughts that really annoyed me as it wasn’t like me. I only had 4 days to wait I thought at the time. But for some reason, they were the longest 4 days of my life.

Work was a great way to distract myself, but I know I wasn’t 100% there.

Thursday came and I got a phonecall from one of the nurses. Could I come in at 9.30 instead of 11.50 the following morning – something to do with Mr C.’s schedule but all I was thinking is why have they got me coming in earlier? Work that night was a trial, but great not to be sitting around mopping and wondering. She said they have their regular Friday morning meetings to discuss patients and I would be seen after that.