Health REAL LIFE
Vicky Blackmore, 51, from Runcorn, wants us all to be more breast aware...
Checking my calendar, it was the first of the month. And this meant one thing – it was time to check my breasts.
As I did every month, I ran my hands over my boobs to check for any lumps, bumps and changes.
Exhaling a sigh of relief as I finished up, everything felt ship shape.
But checking my breasts was very important to me.
Working for Prevent Breast Cancer as a fundraising lead, every day I saw the effects cancer had on women and their families.
And six years ago, in 2017, my mum Monica, 87, lost her battle to secondary cancer after a 14-year long fight with breast cancer.
It was Mum’s memory that had inspired me to go for the job at Prevent Breast Cancer, and it remained a cause very close to my heart.
I wanted to help prevent anyone else going through what Mum had.
So I was always so vigilant in checking my breasts. It had always played on my mind – would I get breast cancer, too?
And in April last year, I got a text inviting me for my first routine mammogram.
Heading to my appointment, I was nervous.
I have to do this, I thought, despite my nerves. This could save my life.
While I’d not noticed any lumps during my last monthly check, I knew that often the danger of cancer was that it’s silent.
My mammogram went smoothly, but 10 days later I received a letter asking me to come back to the breast clinic for further tests.
I felt panicked, trying to keep myself busy at work. It was easy to think the worst. Do I have cancer? Had I missed something when checking my breasts?
Cancer is a silent killer
BIG health story
At my second appointment, I was told I needed an ultrasound and a biopsy. And I just knew.
Going through the motions, it felt like I was having an outof-body experience.
I’d only told my line manager and assistants – I wanted to keep it quiet until I knew for sure.
And two days after my second biopsy, on 26 May last year, I was invited to receive my results.
I hadn’t slept a wink I was so nervous – I was convinced it was bad news.
Taking my neighbour Sue, 69, with me, she’d like been my second mum since Mum had died.
And the doctor told me I had a small, malignant tumour.
‘You’re very lucky it was found so early,’ he told me.
The tumour was so small and deep into the breast tissue, there was no way I could have found it from my regular checks.
