It was Christmas Eve 2013. I was at Christmas Eve drinks, at my friend Joanna’s house with the family, half expecting a message from the breast surgeon saying ‘all good nothing to worry about’. I’d found a small, moveable pea size lump at the top of my breast a day earlier. They had done a basic needle test to find out if it was cancerous or not. I’d had a mammogram, which looked clear, and an ultrasound plus a biopsy. I should have realised with all that effort and all those tests that something was up. So when I got a message to come into the clinic late on Christmas Eve I was beginning to get a bad feeling.
I left the party with my friend Joanna, who coincidentally is a breast care nurse, leaving my husband Eduardo there so as to not arouse suspicion and making an excuse to the kids that I had to get some blood test results and would be back soon. Nothing to worry about.
Jacquie with her friend Joanna
I was the last patient in the waiting room. Deep down I knew bad news was coming. This wasn’t a normal scenario on Christmas Eve, but I was still secretly hoping that the lump was nothing. But it wasn’t nothing.
When the Dr said the words ‘I’m sorry it’s cancer’ it was like it was happening to someone else. I vaguely remember him saying things like ‘it’s very small, it’s early, we can treat you’ but I don’t remember the details. Joanna asked questions but all I could think of was ‘I’ve got breast cancer and I might die’.
Talk about how to kill Christmas in one five minute conversation. It’s my favourite time of year. I love, love, love Christmas. I’ve hosted Christmas dinner since I was a University student for myself and my sisters and now for our extended families. It’s my day, I like everything to be Delia Smith perfect and now it was ruined. Joyless.
I remember calling Eduardo from the car on the way back to the party being upset, maybe crying a bit, and I don’t cry easily, and explaining that we wouldn’t know the extent or the seriousness of the cancer until the biopsy came back from the lab. And with the Christmas holiday that was going to take longer than usual.
We decided not to tell the kids, who were 15, 13 and 12, until we knew the plan of action. That meant putting on a brave face for a week and pretending everything was fine. But everything was far from fine.
We went to the midnight mass service as usual and all I could think through all the carols was ‘I’ve got cancer, I’ve got cancer’. I felt very stressed, very anxious, I couldn’t think of anything else, couldn’t engage with anything else. Going through the motions of Christmas Day, took a huge effort and that night as I was getting ready for work, (I work in Sky News and was due on shift on Boxing Day) I had a proper meltdown. I was in the shower and I became hysterical – I think it was about not knowing what was ahead, the uncertainty, looking back I don’t actually know what I was thinking but I panicked.
Eduardo rang my boss and explained the situation and I gradually pulled myself together. The week dragged by waiting for the biopsy results. We went back to the hospital on New Year’s Eve. The news was good (it’s all relative) it had been caught early, it was a grade 2, I’d need surgery a lumpectomy or mastectomy and I’d likely not need chemotherapy. I pretty much skipped out of the hospital. There was a plan and I was going to be alright. I booked in for a mastectomy on January 14th and in the end I did end up having ‘belt and braces’ chemo.
If I have any advice for anyone going through a diagnosis at Christmas it’s this; try not to panic, things might take a little longer to get sorted because it’s Christmas but they will be sorted.
There will be a plan to make you better and your doctors will do everything they can to make you better. That Christmas, I was consumed by the words ‘it’s cancer’ and what that would mean for my future instead of living in the present. It’s all a bit out of your control with a cancer diagnosis but try to believe that you can be fixed and know that you are not alone.
150 people everyday are diagnosed with Breast Cancer, which doesn’t care whether it’s Christmas or not!
Support over Christmas
At Future Dreams, we have created our ‘Season of Support’ hub whilst our support services and the House is closed over the festive break. With personal stories, expert advice articles and some recognisable Future Dreams workshop hosts, who have created some online support for you to find your own moment and access EFT, Yoga and more from home this holiday season.
Looking for more support?
If you have not heard about Future Dreams before or accessed our support, you can learn more about our online and in-person classes, workshops and 1-2-1 therapies/appointments for those touched by breast cancer by viewing our full support schedule below.
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Sylvie and Danielle began Future Dreams with just £100 in 2008. They believed nobody should face breast cancer alone. Their legacy lives on in Future Dreams House. We couldn’t continue to fund support services for those touched by breast cancer, raise awareness of breast cancer and promote early diagnosis and advance research into secondary breast cancer without your help. Please consider partnering with us or making a donation.