Lynn Griffiths discovered she had breast cancer aged 33 and has battled with three subsequent bouts of the disease in 10 years. Her husband Alan's unconditional support and her determination to live life in full have helped her to survive

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.

I won't pretend that we weren't terrified though. The day of my operation, I had the mastectomy and the reconstruction. During these procedures, the doctors cut under your breasts, remove all the tissue and then put in silicone implants. I left hospital three days later, facing the world with my new breasts. I'm not going to lie about it, it's hard when you take off your clothes and see these two hard round objects there. In the beginning, I felt really sad, as if part of me was gone and would never come back again. I didn't want to look at - or have anyone else see - my breasts. They also felt very heavy after the operation, and I was still heavily bandaged. Surgeons recommend you wear a supportive bra for several weeks after breast reconstruction. I bought a maternity bra in Mothercare, but my breasts still felt so painful that even while wearing the bra I had to walk with my hands under each breast.

Alan's attitude, however, made all the difference to me and got me through the tough parts. I know some men who left their partners after they had a mastectomy, and if there is a crack in your relationship having cancer can make it wider. But Alan was all in favour of me having the operation: he said it was better to have two breasts that looked like oranges than to die. He made me feel loved. He's always been a positive, healthy and encouraging man, the kind who tells you how nice you look, as he kept on telling me.

Three weeks after the operation, I was running again. I carried on living normally, working, running marathons, loving life and my husband. Then, three years later I started feeling some pain in my sternum (breast bone). I went to the doctor and was told I had bone cancer. Again, it was a total shock. The doctors were convinced the initial operation would have cured me of all the cancer.

This time around, I was in a lot of pain. I couldn't exercise and I couldn't sleep in the same bed as Alan because the pain was so intense. I went to Exeter hospital and had massive doses of chemotherapy. I don't want to assume that everyone has the same experience with chemo, because like everyone's cancer, everyone's chemotherapy is different, but mine was tough. I'd go to the hospital once a month and stay in for two days. Alan would come and sit with me and hold the sick bowl. Some of the time I was too ill to talk, but his presence was comforting. Because my cancer is hormonal, they also irradiated my ovaries to stop my production of oestrogen. As a result, I started the menopause.

All of this put so much strain on poor Alan. When I started slowly getting better, friends would say, 'Lynn you look really well. Alan, you look terrible.'

He felt angry that he couldn't make me well. Then, when I started to feel better I sometimes had a go at him because I felt he was watching me all the time, waiting for other signs of illness. However, good came out of this: once I'd got over the chemotherapy, we thought about living and what was important to us. You don't realise how essential love is and how much family means to you until something like this happens.

I had three more years of feeling normal, and then four years ago, the cancer returned, this time in both my lungs. I had chemotherapy again, went into remission, then last year it returned in my left lung. I finished my chemotherapy last December and now, touch-wood, a year on I'm back in remission.

I feel strong again and I'm in training for another half marathon. Cancer doesn't like oxygen, so the fitter you are, the better you do. I run every other day. I have healing sessions, weekly massages, reflexology and I'm careful about what I eat. I don't eat any dairy products, and I take a high dosage multivitamin.

I've got false boobs, lots of scars and not much of a sex drive, which is common for many women who've had a mastectomy. Although many get it back, again, everyone's experience is different. I didn't because of the treatment that was done on my ovaries - my doctor told me that basically I've got the ovaries of an 80 year-old woman. I've gradually come to terms with that, and so has Alan. There are so many other things we value about each other. We have so many plans - in fact we have a great life.

The luxury of a future may have been taken away from me, but I still have today and my husband, and I can't afford to be negative because it wastes too much energy. When I speak to my friends, and they're moaning about trivial things I think, 'You just don't get it do you?' Now, there's not one day that goes by when I don't say, 'Thank you, thank you, thank you, whoever you are for letting me be alive.'

Resources:

· CancerBACUP www.cancerbacup.org.uk is a registered charity providing information about all aspects of cancer as well as emotional support for cancer patients and their families. Helpline number: 020 7613 2121 or Freephone 0808 800 1234

· Bristol Cancer Help Centre: I found them tremendously helpful and supportive, particularly in recommending complementary treatments. www.bristolcancerhelp.org 0117 9809 500

· The majority of people diagnosed with breast cancer today do not have mastectomies.

· If you lose your sex drive following an operation for cancer, talk through your feelings with your lover or husband. 'Most people find their lovers are much less concerned by their scars than they imagine,' says Dr Andrew Standway, a psychosexual and marital physician who works for CancerBACUP.

· Some women find that having sex with their bra on after a mastectomy helps them feel sexier.

· I've been through every emotion during my cancer - rage, sorrow, joy, hope - but the experience of having this disease has helped us strengthen our relationship. Many people, according to Dr Standway, agree with Lynn and explain that they become more honest, stop putting things off and become more realistic about life.