It was in October 2014 when I sat down and watched Kris Hallenga’s powerful documentary Kris: Dying to Live. The fact she was brave, frank and funny of course shone through, but the thing that really hit home was how young she had been when she was diagnosed – just 23.
I was 26 at that time, I had a carefree life working as a personal trainer, living with university flatmates and planning a dream trip to Australia with my boyfriend George. Cancer wasn’t in my family nor was it remotely on my radar. Like most young people, I felt invincible.
But after hearing about Kris’s story, I did start checking my breasts. And it was just two days later when, while showering, I felt a small lump roughly the size of a broad bean in my right breast, towards the armpit. It didn’t hurt, and I could pinch it with my fingers, but it didn’t move.
I didn’t immediately panic or jump to the conclusion it was cancer, but I kept an eye on it and mentioned it to George.
When it was still there two weeks later I booked an appointment at the GP. I remember being so apologetic, assuming I was wasting their time and that it was nothing.
“You’re so young, it’s unlikely to be cancer,” reassured the doctor, who suggested I go and enjoy my month travelling. Which I did. But the lump didn’t disappear. In fact with my constant worrying at it as I applied sunscreen each day it felt like it had increased in size if anything.
I went back to the local surgery and saw a different GP. They also tried to suggest that breast lumps were normal, especially at my age. But I remembered how Kris has been told the same thing. I insisted that while breast lumps might be normal, they weren’t normal for me. This was another thing Kris had said, that we know our bodies better than anyone, and needed to be our own advocates if we felt something was amiss.
The GP agreed to refer me to a breast clinic at St George’s Hospital, they did an ultrasound, agreed it looked suspicious and took a biopsy. The next two weeks were slightly tense as I carried on as normally as I could. I still knew that statistically, in your 20s, the chances of having breast cancer are slim. But when the hospital rang and told me to bring someone with me to learn my results I did feel a dread in my stomach. George was away for work so I took my mum.
When they sat us down and said “it’s not the worst news but it’s not the best either”, I just went very quiet. This wasn’t the all-clear I was still expecting.
James Parker is a UK-based entertainment aficionado who delves into the glitz and glamour of the entertainment industry. From Hollywood to the West End, he offers readers an insider’s perspective on the world of movies, music, and pop culture.
