Our Lives
After a happy surprise came a frightening shock. But it left me determined to make every moment count.
Staring at the positive pregnancy test, I blinked in disbelief.
‘Looks like you were right,’ I gasped to my partner Ali.
When we’d met, we each had children from previous relationships.
Ali had two girls, and I had Elizabeth, 16, and Seth, 13.
We thought we’d completed our blended family with Avice, two, so this had taken us completely by surprise.
I’d been feeling sick since we returned from a holiday to Egypt. I’d assumed it was a bug, but Ali had thought otherwise.
‘Humour me and take a test,’ he’d said.
Now, I was about to turn 40 with my fourth child on the way.
Over the next weeks, the shock finally subsided.
But one night, Ali and I were lying in bed when his arm brushed my bust. ‘Something doesn’t feel right, Lou,’ he said.
I pressed my fingers against the spot he’d indicated at the top of my right breast and fear tingled as I felt a hard, painless, pea-sized lump.
Cancer! my brain screamed. Worried, I saw my GP.
But she dismissed my concerns, saying: ‘It’s most likely pregnancy-related.’
I’d never had anything like this in my previous pregnancies or when I was breastfeeding. But I skipped out of the appointment, reassured.
I focused on the baby, sailed through my scans and discovered I was carrying a healthy little girl.
The lump eventually disappeared, and when I turned 40, I celebrated by having a huge party.
A month later, at 22 weeks’ pregnant, I was busy nesting.
I’d moved Seth into the old nursery while Avice took his larger room to share with the new baby.
I gave all three kids’ rooms a freshen-up while I was at it.
After a long day decorating the new nursery in tropical wallpaper with lush green leaves and bright cockatoos, I got into the shower to wash off the sweat and wallpaper paste. As I soaped myself, I froze. There was another lump in my right breast. This time it was the size of a tangerine.
I rushed back to my GP and was referred for an ultrasound.
While I waited for the appointment, I discovered that the original, smaller lump had come back too.
After the ultrasound and biopsies, Ali and I returned to Lincoln Hospital for the results. ‘I’m really sorry to tell you that you have grade three breast cancer,’ the consultant said.
‘No, no, no, this can’t be happening!’ I screamed.
But it was, and I listened in total shock as the doctor told me the cancer was aggressive and fast growing.
Beside me, Ali was in pieces. I was suddenly strapped to a rollercoaster and it was already moving, hurtling my entire life through the ai
