Liz O'Riordan

I never expected to get breast cancer. I was a breast surgeon. I was young, fit and healthy. I never checked my breasts. And then I found a lump. I was forty, and about to find out how little I knew about the disease I’d spent my life training to treat. Two weeks later I found myself in the chemo chair and a world of misery and fear. Losing my hair made me feel like an alien. I didn’t recognise this person standing in front of me. And I mean person. When I lost my breasts, my sex hormones, my fertility, I thought I would never feel sexy or attractive again. A mastectomy and radiotherapy followed, with hormone blockers to stop my cancer coming back. They didn’t work.

Two years later I had a recurrence on my chest wall. The side effects of that treatment meant I could no longer operate. Breast cancer was slowly robbing me of my identity.  I now grieved for my job as well as the children I could never have. Forced to retire, I was left at home wondering what was the point. I had to find a new way to help people. Writing and talking about my experiences gave me a new purpose. I could reach far more people all over the world. There was light at the end of the tunnel.

Exercise kept me sane, and the constant support of my husband meant I never had far to fall. But fall I did, when my cancer came back a second time on my mastectomy skin flap. That was two years ago. I’m now on treatment for life to stop it happening again. I do worry about what the future holds. The fear of a recurrence is ever present, but there is hope. I have to cling on to that.