Unbroken

Chapter 1: Early Signs and Seeking Answers On Sunday 19 July 2015, during our family holiday to LEGOLAND and London, I began experiencing pain in my left breast that became so intense I was unable to lie on my stomach at night. Although I wasn’t overly concerned, I made a mental note to call the doctor once we returned home. For the rest of the trip, I tried to put the discomfort aside and focus on enjoying the day with my two sons, who were eleven and eight years old. This was their first visit to London, and their excitement at seeing the city’s sights was contagious. Looking back, I remember every detail of that day vividly. We took a family selfie on an open-top bus, capturing our carefree smiles. Now, whenever I see that photo, I think about how much our lives were about to change. The innocent joy in our faces stands in stark contrast to the storm that was approaching for all of us. The next day, once we were back home in County Antrim, Northern Ireland, I scheduled an appointment with my general practitioner (GP) for Thursday morning at 9.40 a.m. Until then, I tried to carry on as normal. When Thursday arrived, my GP examined my breast and expressed concern about what she found. She immediately referred me to the breast clinic at the local hospital as a precaution. The realization that something serious might be wrong sent a wave of fear through me, and I briefly thought, I’ve got breast cancer. I tried to push the thought aside, knowing that dwelling on it would only make me anxious before my hospital appointment. I returned home to tell my husband the news, doing my best to stay calm and not cause him unnecessary worry. Not long after, I received an appointment to visit the breast clinic. On the day of the appointment, Thursday 30 July, my mum was taking care of my boys, since it was the summer break. I explained to her that I wasn’t going to work because I had a breast clinic appointment; immediately, she burst into tears. Giving her a hug, I reassured her that it was probably nothing, then left to pick up my sister, Sharlene, who would accompany me to the clinic. The breast clinic was extremely busy. I underwent a physical examination followed by a mammogram of both breasts, which was particularly painful given the soreness in my left breast. I recall noticing that one image on the screen was swirly and white, while the other was not. Soon after, I was called back for a second mammogram, which caught me off guard. Following the second mammogram, I was sent for an ultrasound. As I lay on the bed waiting for the radiographer, I remember thinking, This can’t be real. Why am I even here? I’m thirty-seven years old; this doesn’t happen to women my age. This must just be a routine procedure. The radiographer came in and performed the ultrasound on my left breast. After finishing, he told me it was simply glandular tissue and not to worry. As I was cleaning off the gel and preparing to leave, I noticed the nurse giving the radiographer a strange look, as if she wanted to say something. He reviewed my notes and then asked me to lie back down, explaining that the mammogram had detected something in my right breast. He reassured me that it was probably a cyst but said he needed to do another ultrasound to be certain. After the ultrasound of my right breast, the radiographer informed me he needed to perform a biopsy, again stating it was likely a fibroadenoma – a common benign breast condition that appears as a lump. I underwent the biopsy and was told to wait for the results, which would be ready in thirty to forty minutes. Back in the waiting room, Sharlene was sitting alone; we’d been at the clinic so long that all the other patients had left. At that point, reality started to sink in, and I watched every move the staff made, searching for clues about what my results might mean. I watched as a doctor studied a sheet of paper before walking into the radiographer’s room. A few minutes later, he emerged and went straight into the room where the female consultant had first examined me. I followed every movement, my eyes fixed on him as he spoke to her through the open door. Panic tightened in my chest, and I could hear my heartbeat rushing in my ears. It felt like an hour passed, though it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, before the doctor stepped out into the now-empty waiting room where only Sharlene and I sat. He called my name and asked us to take a seat; the female consultant was in the room too. ‘Lynette,’ he said matter-of-factly, ‘you came in with pain in your left breast and my colleague here examined you this morning and referred you for a mammogram. You were then referred for a biopsy taken from your right breast. May I examine you?’ After re‑examining me, he explained that the biopsy had revealed suspicious cells in my right breast which now needed to go for full analyses and I would need to return on Monday for the full lab results.