I was shaking as I sat in front of the oncology doctor at my local hospital.
It was 13 October last year and I just knew something wasn’t right. I had received a call the day before asking me to book an urgent appointment for a CT scan, since doing a biopsy two weeks earlier.
So I brought my husband, Amardeep, my sister, Sukh, and my two-month-old baby boy with me for moral support, who were all in the waiting room.
As soon as the doctor confirmed I had breast cancer, I felt my body cave in.
‘But I have two babies,’ I spluttered out through tears. The disbelief was immense. I was only 42 years old.
Our journey to having my children wasn’t easy.
Both Amardeep and I actually had Covid on the day of my daughter’s birth in March 2022. My husband wasn’t even allowed in the room with me.
At least Sukh could be with me during the later stages of labour to witness the birth and cut the umbilical cord.
As for my son, he was born in August 2023 with the waterbirth we always wanted but couldn’t have with my daughter. But scarily, my son wasn’t breathing when he came out.
As a result, I was left in a blood bath while my son was taken away by the midwife. Thankfully, I heard his cry and all was well in the end.
After a short hospital stay, I went home and our new normal as a family-of-four got underway.
Amardeep went back to work in HR so I tackled most house chores while juggling childcare – and I was starting to find a rhythm. I was even planning on training for a marathon.
But less than a month after having my son, I started to notice a niggle under my left breast – a very thick vein that was painful when I moved my breast. I also had a huge lump, which I noticed while using a breast pump.
I asked my midwife if it was mastitis, but I had no other symptoms so she couldn’t say for sure. At the time, I wasn’t really breastfeeding because my milk supply was low – as it had been with my daughter too.
With the craziness of what comes with being a mum, I kept forgetting about the vein – that is, until each time I showered. There it was staring at me.
I came to realise I needed to get this checked out.
So on 13 September, I finally went to my GP, who referred me to the breast clinic at my local hospital. A week later, I was seen by a consultant, who referred me for an ultrasound.
By the end of that month, I had a biopsy and a mammogram too. I was impressed with the care as I was seen within two weeks.
Then I got my breast cancer diagnosis – stage 3, which had spread to my lymph nodes. I was offered treatment with the prognosis that it was curable.
I started chemo on 13 November – exactly one month after my diagnosis – which has been incredibly tough.
Physically and emotionally, I am not the same person.
I wore a cold cap during chemotherapy (which is a hat that reduces blood flow to the scalp, in order to prevent hair loss) so I never lost all of my hair. But I have shed hair, including my eyelashes and eyebrows.
My nails aren’t the same and have gone black in some parts. I also have bone and muscle pain though, difficulty concentrating, and I suffer with fatigue.
I am much more slowed down in speed, which means most things require more effort. As you can imagine, this makes it difficult with two children so I have had to lean on Amardeep and the rest of my family for support.
Now, I have to get help from my mum and mother-in-law – mostly with meals and child care – because I can’t keep up. I also have the support of a cleaner every two weeks.
This support means that I feel stronger mentally than I have ever done.
But emotionally, I feel somewhat robbed of my early memories of the newborn phase of my son. It feels like it’s been overshadowed.
I find myself mourning for what I could do before my diagnosis, like independently preparing and cooking meals, cleaning, grocery shopping, doing laundry and managing finances.
I worry about the impact of my diagnosis on my mum (who is in her late 60s) in particular, as she has taken on a lot for me and I worry that she may ignore her own health needs that come with her age. I end up trying to do as much as I can so I am not overly burdening other people.
As for what the future holds, I’m recovering from my mastectomy and now I am hoping things will settle down. I am through the worst of it with the chemo – but only time will tell.
Being a mummy is a blessing that also comes with a lot of responsibility. As women, we tend to try to do it all and make very little time for ourselves.
But I cannot emphasise enough the importance of routinely checking in on your own health – and that includes checking your breasts. If something doesn’t feel right, please get it checked out straight away.
It could make a world of difference.
As told to Minreet Kaur
Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing jess.austin@metro.co.uk.
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