One woman breaks the news about breast cancer to her husband

iVillage Sue Wall describes the process she underwent after discovering a lump and how she broke the news to her husband

• Something suspicious?
• Seeing the doctor
• Who will go with me?
• The moment of truth
• I have to tell Pete

Something suspicious?
My name is Sue and I am just about on the right side of the big 40. I have a wonderful husband, five great kids, one grandson and another grandson on the way in a few weeks. My family are great, all of them - mum, dad, brother, aunts, uncles, cousins, sister-in-law, and a niece and nephew. Everything was just about perfect: nice home, good friends, comfortable life, I thought in November 2003. Whilst having my bath one day, back and forth I went, examining what appeared to be a lump in my breast. I remember laying in the bath, shaking my head and telling myself, 'Don't be stupid.' I disregarded the lump as I would a broken nail and continued through to Christmas and New Year without giving it a second thought. I don't know if I avoided the offending area or just simply chose to ignore it, but before I knew it we were into February 2004.

In February 2004, I was standing in the partly finished bathroom (still in progress after five years). As I was surveying the room, deciding when to finish the tiling, re-do the paint work, and finish the damn thing once and for all, I examined the lump again and it was still there. I could feel it, same place but slightly bigger. Should I ignore it again? No, not this time, I thought. Should I tell Pete what I had found? No, not just yet - why worry him? It was probably just hormonal, probably nothing, I told myself.

The next day, I rang the doctor's surgery and made my appointment, as we all know, not that easy if it's not an emergency. I couldn't tell them it was an emergency. It had been there since at least November 2003, so I took the next available appointment, three weeks away.

Seeing the doctor
The day of the appointment, I found myself down playing the situation and giving her my own diagnosis. 'Well,' I said, with an embarrassed smirk, 'I have a lump on my left breast. It's nothing really. I think it's just hormones.' As I lay on the table while she examined me, I wasn't really listening to what she was saying. I was counting the holes that decorated the tiles on the ceiling. At the end of it, I got dressed, sat in the chair and smiled. To my horror - and yes it was horror - I heard her referring me to the fast track breast clinic in the local hospital, because she didn't like the feel of the lump. I listened to the words but wasn't really hearing what she was saying. I left thinking 'ok', another appointment and then went on with my life.

Only a few days passed before I received a call from the hospital inviting me over for a mammogram and scan for the next week. By the Sunday my worries had grown to a crescendo of hysteria, all the time wearing my mask, pretending nothing was going on. I wasn't going to tell Pete, not because I didn't want to. I couldn't. What could he say? What could he do? No, I couldn't tell Pete, but I desperately wanted someone to go with me. Pete would be furious that I hadn't asked him, but for whatever reason, he was the one person I couldn't confide in. But who could go?