Breasts are bloody brilliant!
Norks, baps, knockers, Jesus jugs, fun bags, Devil’s pillows, tits, melons, tatas and Bristols -
We all love them.
But boobs can kill you too!
I once had two brilliant boobs but now I have one and a bit.
This is the tale of how two became one.
I’m Sara Harding (not the one from Girls Aloud as some people think!) As a rock journalist and TV Producer, I’m sharing my story in the hope that this helps anyone affected by cancer. One in two of us will be diagnosed with the Big C, which is what happened to me in July 2019. It’s been the most emotional and life changing experience of my life – it’s been more dramatic than Brexit. Or should I say Breastxit!
Cancer is no laughing matter but humour is definitely a way to get through this horrific disease. So I’ve created this ‘Blook’, which is part diary and part advice. This blog style book is for everyone – for friends, family, colleagues and carers. My mission is to get everyone to check their lumps and bumps, help us all get over the scary bits and laugh at the good times. During my cancer I’ve experienced it all – being sick to Take That in the Co-op, an addiction to Jaffa Cakes, sex, drugs, rock and chemo, encountering Dr Love, X-rated waiting room dramas, a chemo crack up, my great diva moments, scary wig disasters, the shits, the pukes, the hair loss (the good thing is my chin hair fell out!), outrageous operations, creepy dolls, council dinners and crying…
lots of crying…
TWO THINGS I KNEW IN MY LIFE;
I had big boobs
I’d had great boobs, not showing off, just great genes, (thanks, Mum). In fact, my nicknames in the past included ‘teeth and tits’, ‘sugar tits’ or ‘couple of lovely large melons’ from the cheeky guys on Slough Market’s fruit ’n’ veg stall.
Yes, I do have ‘a large pair of lovely melons’, (40 DD) but at the end of the day, all boobs are brilliant and we love them - whether they are pear shaped ’uns, the itty bitty titty committee, square shaped sizzlers, Cocker Spaniel’s ears, big nipple norks, fried eggs, pancakes, moobs, bouncing baps or wrinkly breast-fed ’uns. It doesn’t matter what they look like - our breasts rock and there is someone out there who loves what you’ve got - simples!!!
That was why it was such a huge shock to find out I might lose my buns of fun.
It’s scary to face a disease which is trying to kill you as well as trying to take your boobs away but I was staring it right in the face (or should I say, in the right tit with another lesion in the left). I loved life and I wanted to live – tits or no tits – and if I had to get rid of these breasts that have served me well for years and upgrade to a new pair – bring it on.
I was hoping for Pamela Anderson’s double D’s after my operation (and so was my boyfriend!) but if this battle with the Big C meant I lost my breasts, I knew I wouldn’t lose my personality – I would still be me – so I decided to face my battle with headlamps fully on…D DAY
THE DIAGNOSIS THAT CHANGES YOUR LIFE...
forever…
I have always been pretty healthy although, as a rock chick and pub lover, I loved my wine (lady petrol as we lovingly call it). But I didn’t smoke, do drugs, take the pill - all things that seem to contribute to the big C. I’ve always exercised and kept upbeat. Yes, I’ve got a cake container/wine belt (big tummy) but I was healthy and happy.
On August 1st 2019, my life was about to change.
I was working for Sir Lenny Henry, who I’d always yearned to work for, and had finally got the opportunity by stalking my great friend Angela Ferreira, who was head of diversity at the Beeb. We were busy creating TV show ideas to pitch to broadcasters and I noticed that I kept falling asleep at my desk despite a good night’s sleep. I couldn’t work out why I was feeling so tired. It felt like someone had literally unplugged me from an electric socket and I was completely zapped of any energy. Devoid of Duracell.
My extreme lethargy lasted for about 3 weeks, then a huge lump appeared on the side of my right breast under my armpit. Booking into the GP, I wasn’t worried, thinking it was just a trapped lymph node.
GPs are amazing but they do not know everything about cancer. Think how many people they have to see on a daily basis with all the ailments on the planet from piles to verrucas and they can’t be an expert at everything, especially the vast ranges of cancers out there. I insisted on seeing a lady doctor at my surgery as I didn’t understand how an old man like my ex-GP can know about having breasts. I could never be an expert on male genitalia so why would a dude know about my baps?
My new female doctor copped a good feel of my boobs and was worried at the size of the lump and my fatigue so she referred me to the breast cancer clinic at West Middlesex Hospital as soon as possible.
The great news is that I was seen within 2 weeks. This is the NHS standard for any suspected cancer in the UK so please don’t worry if a dreaded lump appears, you will very quickly be in good hands.
My appointment was booked for 1st August, 2019 at 3pm.
Even if you think you are going to be okay, take someone with you just in case. You can be so stunned on diagnosis that you won’t be able to take all the information in. Bring a friend or family member you love who makes you laugh as well as being sensible and arm them with a notebook so that they can take in the millions of conversations you are about to have.
After kissing a lot of rock stars and frogs, I’d finally met my amazing partner Anthony, a no-nonsense Northerner with terrible dad’s-joke humour and an astonishing ability to say the wrong thing at the wrong time. We’d bumped into each other at the bar in Wetherspoons and for me it was Phwooooarrrrrr at the first sight of this tall, long haired, beardy, serious-looking rock dude. We became best friends as well as partners and although he is very quiet in company, at home he is the funniest and most talkative person I’ve ever met.
To all our friends and family, he is known as ‘The Anthony’.
We were only about 6 months into our relationship when I suggested he come to the hospital with me. I thought it was just going to be a quick exam and - wahoo! - I’m okay. So we turned the hospital visit into a hot date.
We walked through Syon Park in the sunshine, had a lovely Costa coffee in the West Mid hospital foyer, finished a crossword and then headed into the Breast Cancer waiting room. The waiting room was absolutely packed with people nervously waiting to see the Breast Cancer doctor, who was later to become one of my life-savers.
As we’d sat there in that horribly depressing waiting room, the staff had switched the TV on for us patients. Broadcasting was the quiz show, ‘Tenable’.
Anthony turned to me and said, ‘Can’t they change the channel? This programme really annoys me’, to which the whole waiting room turned to us with agreeing nods and we all cracked up laughing.
My name was called out and, still chuckling, we headed into Dr. D’s office but when we saw the faces of the doctor and the nurse, our smiles froze.
After a couple of tests and prods, they revealed to me that I had invasive Stage 3, Triple Negative, breast cancer…
IT WAS LIKE THE WORLD HAD STOPPED.
I couldn’t take it all in. They handed me some leaflets and told me that a diagnosis of Stage 3 was pretty bad.
Stage 1 is relatively ok, Stage 2 ok-ish, Stage 3 is bad and Stage 4 is really bad.
Stage bloody 3! My lump had now grown to the size of a grapefruit and they were astonished how quickly it had swollen within the last 2 weeks.
Dr. D was kind and caring, but had to tell me it was serious and she wanted me to know that.
I thought, that’s it, I’m going to die and I don’t want to. I love my life.
I was in absolute shock, as was The Anthony. In that moment, my world had stopped… and all its worries swam through my head;
Am I really going to die?
How do I tell people?
What will my family say?
Will Anthony dump me?
How can I afford to live?
Will I lose my hair?
Will I lose my breasts?
How can I do the job I love doing?
Will I be homeless?
Will I have to watch Tenable every day?
Dr. D said I had a fight on my hands and it was going to be a long, very hard journey and asked if I was up to it?
After making 70 films for a cancer charity I knew what was ahead of me but it’s still very different when it’s you that has this terrifying disease.
Ironically, I’d made these films to ‘give back' after my parents had both passed away from the big C. They became a huge part of my life and, in the making, I met the most incredible people who are still great friends to this very day.
These short films featured all kinds of cancer fighters and experts. From Chemo Brain with Adam, to Watch and Wait with Andrew, to a film with Viv Campbell from Def Leppard, encouraging men to visit their GPs if they feel a lump.
One of the girls I filmed with, Kat Tsang Li Orr, had been so ill and her analogy was this, ‘Imagine you are playing a game of baseball and the pitcher is throwing loads of hard balls at you? Well, you pick up your bat and you smash each and every one of them’.
This came to my mind as I replied to my concerned Dr. D that I was going to smash this disease.
I was told that, as the lump was so big, they were going to reduce it by using hard-core chemo called FEC D for six months.
I was given all the information for anyone diagnosed to take home and digest.
I was to start chemotherapy the very next week - so I had to get my affairs in order bloody quickly as this is a life or death treatment.
WOW… in just ten minutes my life had changed forever.