Val Armstrong's Breast Cancer Diary

Val Armstrong BBC Radio Cumbria

On 7th July I was diagnosed with breast cancer for the second time. The first time was in 2006 when I faced a series of operations resulting in having half of my left breast removed followed by a course of radiotherapy. This was to get rid of a non-invasive cancer in my ducts.

This time I know my journey will be different. This time an invasive tumour was found in my right breast during a routine mammogram in June. I was recalled, re-scanned and a core biopsy carried out which confirmed the tumour was malignant.

The decision was made that the right breast would be removed now, the left breast will be removed in time.

Reconstruction will take place at a later date.

Any other treatment will be decided once the tumour has been removed and graded.

This is a record of my time between finishing work on 1st August … 'til my return at some point in the future …

Saturday 7th August

Flowers sent to me by CUFC

Was discharged from hospital at 1.30pm today. Much sooner than I'd expected ... Yes!

When I climbed into my brother's car outside the hospital I worked out that if I got home and had something to eat, got changed, and pretended to go and sit on the bench in the garden, I could sneak off to the match and be in my seat for 2.50pm.

Sadly I have Cumbria's answer to the Mitchell Brothers watching my every move. My mother and sister are like two fierce guard dogs - nothing gets by them. There was no way I was going to make my escape so had to submit and listened to a fantastic match on the radio from the comfort of my armchair. Great start to the season. Well done CUFC.

The Girls - ie my drains

Before leaving the hospital I said goodbye to 'The Girls' - my drains were removed and my dressing was changed. When my dressing was removed I asked the nurse who was looking after me to pass my make-up bag. I wanted to look at my scar and the best way to do it was by using a mirror.

I examined every piece of my scar very slowly, absorbing every part of it. I was fascinated by it, a new part of my body with a story to tell.

When I'd finished I passed the mirror back to the nurse - who had started to cry. She explained that she never failed to be amazed by the bravery of us women dealing with this dreadful disease.

I told her we weren't brave - it was just another way of accepting what we'd been dealt. I needed to know what had happened to me, I told her what I'd seen wasn't pretty, I knew I'd never win a wet T-shirt competition, but that scar was now part of me and I had to learn to accept it.

The dressing covering my scar

She smiled. A new dressing was attached. I could leave. That incident with the nurse confirmed to me that I was being looked after by people who really cared - not by a nursing machine - but by real human beings.

Paula and I are getting acquainted. Though I think we've got a long way to go. Not only does she make me itch, she also tries to escape from my bra cup at every opportunity. I think I'm going to have to pin her down.

It's good to be home. I can sleep in my own bed tonight - what a treat.

Friday 6th August

Trinkets and good luck gifts given to Val and taken to hospital

Felt great this morning considering I had next to no sleep.

The on-duty nurse was checking my pulse, blood pressure, temperature and scar dressing at regular intervals through the night meaning I didn't get a chance to drift into a deep sleep ... I just dozed on and off throughout.

Was expecting to feel as rough as anything today, but as I say I felt fine, I have a little bit of discomfort - caused mainly by the two drains fitted in theatre.

My drains also caused problems through the night - for some reason one was leaking and had lost it's suction, so wasn't working effectively. They were changed for two smaller models - I've nicknamed the new ones 'The Girls'.

My foam prosthesis - called Paula

Today my Breast Care Nurse - Helen - introduced me to my temporary foam prosthesis. This is to wear in my bra to give the impression I still have a bust. I've decided to call my pad Paula. She's going be a big part of my life for the next six weeks or so and needed to have a name! I find giving something a name personalises it. Makes it more real.

I've already ordered some special mastectomy bras - but have been shown how to adapt my own bras to make sure Paula and I can get acquainted now ... I'll let you know how we get on.

I had a lovely surprise this afternoon. I am a huge Carlisle United fan - am a season ticket holder - and go to every home game. I was gutted when I found out I was going to miss their first home match of the season because of my hospital stay.

I had told my Consultant that I thought his timing was impeccable - admitting me to hospital on 4th August to operate on 5th when the football season gets underway on 7th! Staff at my beloved CUFC heard about my predicament and as a result sent me a beautiful basket of flowers followed by a visit to my hospital bed of Manager Greg Abbott and Chairman Andrew Jenkins armed with a card signed by players, staff and directors.

CUFC Manager Greg Abbott and Chairman Andrew Jenkins visit me in hospital

I spent a good 45 minutes forgetting about my cancer and mastectomy and talked about football instead - a marvellous distraction. But what a wonderful thing to do, especially when it was the day before the new season and am sure they had more on their minds than visiting me in hospital.

This confirmed why I support a club like Carlisle United - it's a club that cares!! I was slightly amused that Greg couldn't believe how healthy I looked - I might yet get a chance for a kickabout when I'm discharged … and later today on the Sports Hour on BBC Radio Cumbria I heard 'get well' messages recorded by players and staff at the club compiled by our sports team Paul Newton and James Phillips. Again an amazing thing for them to do. Meant the world to me. Thank you guys.

It's been a good day!!

Thursday 5th August

Operation Day

Was already awake when the nurse came to wake me at 6am. Had a rough first night in the strange hospital bed … and kept awake by someone snoring very loudly. I need silence and total darkness to enjoy a good night's sleep.

Had a moment in the shower room this morning while getting ready for theatre.

I caught a glimpse of my bare breasts in the mirror - and I got emotional. It was here that I said goodbye to my right breast.

I thought I'd come to terms with the loss. Obviously not. It was in this room, on my own, looking at my reflection that I finally grieved. I felt a huge release. Felt calmer afterwards. Ready.

I'm an annoyingly inquisitive person. This came out in the anaesthetist's room. I wanted to know what everything was. The man who was putting me to sleep was filling a HUGE syringe. It must have been six inches long and about an inch across. He was putting a real mixture of liquids into this syringe, I asked him if it was to knock me out - because it was big enough to put an elephant to sleep - he reassured me it was for use during my operation.

My hospital bed

I know I'm a fairly relaxed sort of person - I think this was evident in how calm I was before going into theatre … heartbeat between 55 and 58 ... and blood pressure 130ish over 58-60. The Ice Queen!

Felt a fair bit of pain following the operation. Thank heavens for Morphine which was administered in recovery.

Also while I was in recovery I lifted the top of my theatre gown to look at what they'd done.

I'd already worked my way through the scenario many times beforehand. But nothing can prepare you for what you see. Total flatness where a huge breast used to sit. In it's place a large surgical dressing.

At that point my surgeon came to see me, checked I was OK, and reassured me everything had gone to plan. The breast had been successfully removed and relevant lymph nodes taken to be tested.

At this stage I felt better - I remembered that along with the breast being taken - so too had the cancer.

I was cancer free.

Back to the ward, and back in touch with the outside world.

Contacting loved ones, letting people know my recovery had already began.

Wednesday 4th August

The day had finally arrived.

I came into hospital today.

It's been a long wait. But am now relieved to be in my hospital bed. Room 2, Aspen Ward at the Cumberland Infirmary in Carlisle - my home for the next few days.

Arrived at the hospital at 1230 and was given treatment straight away, they don't hang around!

Outside the Cumberland Infirmary, prior to admission

Was taken straight across to the Medical Physics Department where I was injected with radiation and protein - apparently it helps the surgeon and his team identify parts of my breast they need to focus on.

Was delighted when assessed during the admission process. The nurse who was filling in the form got to the part where she had to assess my height/weight ratio … and she wrote 'Acceptable' ... result!

I've had a chat with the breast care nurse who I've known for five years - so feel very comfortable with her.

Have chatted to my consultant - the man who'll operate on me tomorrow. He's fantastic, trust him explicitly, I know I'm in the best hands possible. I'm very happy, settled and confident that I'm going to be fine.

Electrical kit taken by Val into the hospital

Time passes slowly in hospital - luckily I have two phones with me, my laptop, my microphone to record my audio diary for radio, my camera and my iPod.

Have also brought some DVDs in to watch - I think The Changeling is my choice for tonight. It's already 11pm, I don't feel very tired. Don't think there's much sleep in me. Hopefully the night won't drag.

Tuesday 3rd August

One of the images of Val which inspired her to have the body photographs taken before her operation

I spent the weekend before last with a friend who took some photos of me relaxing in a coffee shop - the photos showed a little of my cleavage, something I've never really shown or noticed before. It looked incredible.

So the idea was muted that perhaps I should have some photos taken of my body before my mastectomy. This would mean that I would always have a record of how I looked before my breasts were taken away.

So I had some photos taken by Paula Paisley - a photographer with the local paper - she was coming to take an official picture for the newspaper to use in article they ran yesterday, but had already agreed to take some tasteful ones of me 'topless'.

We took the pictures on the well-lit stairwell at work. There was only me, Paula and Paul Newton in the building at the time - and Paul was locked away in the studio presenting so there was no chance he was going to walk in on us.

One of the photographs taken by Paula

Though we did get a shock halfway through the shoot when the reception door opened and we heard someone trudging through - luckily it was Belinda Artingstoll dropping her shopping off.

Belinda and I have known each other for a long time … so nothing I do shocks her any more! So the fact that I was on the stairs wearing just my jeans and a smile didn't surprise her at all. She just smiled, shook her head and carried on ...

I've just been looking at the photos Paula took, and they're lovely. Just what I wanted. A true record of how I look … a great thing to have.

I might never ever look at them again, but the fact that I have them is a comfort. I can't put into words how grateful I am to Paula for doing this for me … but I think it shows in my eyes.

Monday 2nd August

A hard emotional day today, have shed many tears for many reasons.

The main reason - I feel a huge sense of loss. Yesterday was my last day at work for a long time. Some people might cheer at the thought of an extended break - not me.

I love my work, I love my job and I love being with my friends and colleagues. All of it stimulates me. It gives me a reason to get up in the morning. A purpose. A role in life.

I've reacted in a strange way, have locked myself away from everyone today. Cut myself off from the people I love most, the main people who are going to carry me through this.

I switched off my mobile phones and listened to music most of the day. Music is my escape. I've listened to everything from Elvis to the Stereophonics and from U2 to Kylie.

At one point this morning I was sitting listening to Horse and had uncontrollable tears streaming down my face. I realised very early on not to stop the flow of tears, give them an outlet, let them flow, otherwise they'll drown you.

As the day went on I started to settle a little - I accepted that this was a different path I had to travel to the one I'd planned and that it was only a temporary diversion.

At some point I would be back at work and back where I belonged. I switched the phones back on … and came back into the real world.

Val's BBC Radio Cumbria presenter image

Sunday 1st August

Today I 'went public' about my cancer - and why not?

It's nothing to be ashamed of, it's part of my life yet again and I needed to share it with the people who allow me into their lives on a regular basis.

Since my diagnosis on 7th July I've had time to come to terms with the news, have been able to digest what's happening and been able to plan a little for the future.

Life went on as normal. I presented my radio shows as normal, did my shopping as normal, went out as normal and just carried on as normal.

But through all that I've experienced anger, frustration and a little bit of sadness. To have cancer once is bad - to have to live through it a second time is cruel.

I know all about the emotional rollercoaster I'll ride. I don't know how I'll react to each stage, but I know I'll complete it.

Four years on from my first experience of cancer and I've learned a great deal about myself. I'm much stronger now than then, fitter, healthier and able to deal with it with a big heart and a tough mind.

I've also become a 'voice' for cancer survivors so why now, when cancer had revisited me - would I go quiet - surely I'd use my voice in a positive way. This was proof that anyone can be touched by cancer - but it doesn't mean that everyone dies.

The response from everyone following my announcement today was heart-warming and the support shown makes me more determined to stand straight and face this head on ... whatever it throws at me.