1: Cancer? Me? NO!

 It'd been a good weekend.  The summer holidays were only 2 weeks away and, boy, did I need them!  I'd only been at the school a year and as every teacher knows, the first year in a job is hell.  New exam board and teaching specifications; not to mention different kids, staff, rules, routines.  It had been hell (sorry to those that are now friends and colleagues, but...) BUT the hols were nearly here.  Stress levels had dropped and there was light at the end of the tunnel.

So. The weekend.  It'd been good.  Out Saturday night with the bloke, watching the freak show that is the Bigg Market, or Sodom and Gomorrah as I call it. (To the uninitiated, aka Southerners, Geordie women are a revelation.  Out in the dead of winter practically naked.)  Come Sunday, I'd cooked lunch and then had retreated to the peace of my new flat on my own.  Stuff was still unpacked but it was empty and peaceful.  I'd done a little preparation for school (far from my usual full days work on Sunday) and was having an early night with a good book.  PJ's on, cup of tea. 

Idly, totally unaware of what I was doing, I pulled at my bra, and touched a lump.  It registered.  I took my eyes off my book and looked down.  Just my 45 year old womans boobs, helped by the bra.  This time I poked.  Yep.  A lump.  At this point a nameless sort of shocked horror began to set in. I poked and felt my breast.  They've always been lumpy. One GP referred to the excess of breast tissue in them as 'a bag of marbles.'  That was a good description.  Except now one of the marbles was at least half an inch big.  The rest of the boob felt normal, although by now, my definition of normal was changing. 

I sat, probably for 10, 15 minutes in horror; crying, shaking, stunned.  When I came to a little, I sent my boyfriend a text and watched the phone for a reply.  Nothing.  Gradually, I considered the train of events that would have to follow the next day and sent my boss a text.  She was great, replying almost immediately.  Eventually, R texted me back.  Reassurance which made little difference. 

I don't really remember how the rest of the evening passed.  I phoned R at some point and he offered to come over when he left the pub.  NORMALLY I don't like asking for help but this occasion seemed to warrant some support.  A couple of hours later he arrived and calmed me down a little.  Shockingly, I managed to sleep.