The Diary of the Lady from Devizes

THE DIARY OF THE LADY FROM DEVIZES

by Susie Jackson Batty

CHAPTER ONE

Friday 21 May 1999

We came back from Florida on Monday after a wonderful holiday in our other home at Sarasota, and we are getting back into our normal routine. However today is going to be the start of my world temporarily falling apart, because in the shower this morning I feel a shape in my right breast that does not seem quite right. At first I hope it is my imagination, but then I know it is not, and my knees turn to jelly and I know that I have to do something about it.

I had a breast lump removed in January. At the time that it was discovered my surgeon, Mr Stuart Martin, had thought that it was unimportant. In fact it turned out to be ‘ductal carcinoma in situ’ or DCIS as it is called, which is a pre-cancerous tumour. I was lucky then because the tumour was very tiny and had not become malignant, but it was quite a shock at the time, and Mr Martin advised me to see the Oncologist, Adrian Morton, to be reassured.

When I saw Adrian Morton, he explained again about DCIS and confirmed that the tumour had been very tiny and not malignant, and I was advised to take the drug Tamoxifen as a preventative for the next five years. Now five months later I am facing another worrying problem.

Our local Hospital in Beaconsfield, where I had seen Mr Martin and had the previous operation, had closed down. I am in a complete panic and decide to ring the Hospital where I last saw Adrian Morton. The appointments secretary is extremely kind and calm, when I ask if I can see Mr Martin or Mr Morton urgently, and tells me that I can see Mr Morton this morning at 11.40am. I am so grateful to her.

I go to work at Hall Barn as usual, but I feel terribly distracted and am glad when 11.00am comes and I can leave for the Hospital. I have explained to Jenefer, my employer, and she is very sympathetic. I have worked at Hall Barn, which is a private stately home in Beaconsfield, for fifteen years first as private secretary to Jenefer’s father, the late Lord Burnham, and after his death I stayed on with the family and assisted Jenefer’s mother, the Dowager Lady Burnham. Jenefer, whose title is The Honourable Mrs Farncombe, inherited the estate and I have enjoyed working with her for the last few years. 

I leave and drive to the Hospital. It takes about twenty minutes and my thoughts are in a turmoil on the journey. I check in with the receptionist and wait for my turn. I don’t have to wait too long and when I see Mr Morton he examines me and confirms that he can feel a thickening of the tissues.  He thinks that it may be due to scar tissue from the previous lumpectomy, but it could be more DCIS. He arranges for me to have an ultra-sound which is to be on the following Wednesday at 5.00pm.

I drive home to Beaconsfield and spend the next hour staring into space. My three beautiful Birman cats, Portia, Pandora and Mr d’Arcy, all want to sit on my lap at once to comfort me. I know that they can tell that I am worrying. When my husband, Andrew, arrives home from his office in London I tell him about my visit to the Hospital, and he is very calm and encouraging. I try to put it from my mind for the next few days.  After all, if it is more DCIS then I will just have to have it removed which will mean a small operation and then life will get back to normal.

The next few days go on as usual - we play golf the next day, and then in the evening we go to a friend’s 50^th birthday party. There are lots of friends there, but I don’t tell them about my Hospital appointments. Andrew and I have decided that we will keep it to ourselves until we have the results and then hopefully all will be well again.

Wednesday 26 May

I drive to the Hospital for my ultra-sound appointment. I have to wait quite a long time, and the nurses are very kind and keep me informed of how long it will be.  Eventually the radiographer comes to collect me, and shows me into a small changing room and tells me to undress to the waist and put on a gown. I am then taken into the ultra-sound room and introduced to the doctor. He squeezes a tube of jelly on to my breast and moves the implement over it. He finds the area on the screen, but says that he cannot tell if the shadow is scar tissue or DCIS and will only say that it is a fifty-fifty chance of either. 

The radiographer tells me to go back to the appointments desk and see if I can see Mr Morton again on F