Living to tell the tale

I was 33 when I was first diagnosed with breast cancer. I was a marathon runner, really fit, loved my work as a self-employed hairdresser in a holiday camp, and was happily married to my husband Alan, who is a clown and a magician.

Although there is a strong history of cancer in my family - three of my mum's sisters died young and two of my cousins have succumbed to the disease - it never occurred to me when I went to see my doctor that it would happen to me. I went more for peace of mind than anything.

After routine tests, the doctor said, 'I'm very sorry but you have already got it.' I actually laughed. I thought he was joking. Then the absolute shock and horror hit me.

He said my cancer was in the early stages but it was a very aggressive form. It's true that everybody's cancer is different, but in my case, my doctor's advice was that I should have a bi-lateral mastectomy (removal of both breasts), followed immediately by a breast reconstruction. He said if I followed this course of action, I'd be one hundred percent safe but that if I left it I would die.

Alan had come with me and we sat in the doctor's office looking at each other in total disbelief and shock. I said to the doctor, 'If it's in the early stages, can I spend six months preparing my body for the operation?'

He said yes, and so for the next six months Alan and I tried to live as normal a life as possible. I continued running, ate well, carried on working and learned about some really useful complementary cancer treatments.