CA 15-3 / CA153 & Breast Cancer Blood Test (Clinic Walk-In) – £99

Laura Mazzeo’s Story of Her Breast Cancer Tumor

Twelve years have transpired… I entered a very frigid operating room of a Roman hospital 12 years ago at this time. I was in a state of extreme fear, trembling and weeping. I recall only that a nurse held my hand while administering anesthesia to me. He advised me to remain resolute and that everything would be alright. I awoke in my bedroom, and in front of my bed were my spouse, my daughter, and the doctor who performed the surgery on me (to whom I will always be grateful). They made statements; however, I was primarily interested in the sensation that “the guest” had vanished entirely.

I was still unaware of the surprises that lay ahead.

I recall New Year’s Eve; from my bedroom window, I observed the pyrotechnics in the sky of Rome. I reflected on my husband and daughter, who were in a hotel room, and my son and grandfather, who were at home. Isolated. Unforgettable New Year’s Eve… in every respect.

I was eager to return home, but after a few days, they permitted me to enter a room and informed me that the “host” had been removed. However, it was a bit aggressive, so it was advisable to undergo chemotherapy and radiotherapy.

Okay, now it commences.

The initial session commences with a brief intervention to insert the Pic, and subsequent sessions are conducted in Rome every 21 days. A nightmare. The post-chemo agony is one of the most intense I have ever experienced, as well as the moon face and hair loss.

Afterward, we commence with the radio. A piece is charged to me every day at 1:05 p.m., and I would prefer to be somewhere else at that time.

Subsequently, I acknowledge that it was the most detrimental year of my existence.

However, I have since left.

I am a survivor, and today, after twelve years, I am obligated to express my gratitude to those who enabled this to occur.

Initially, my professor “compelled” me to undergo the biopsy. Subsequently, my physician performed surgery on me on New Year’s Eve and saved my life. He is now a highly esteemed professor worldwide. I was never left unattended by my family. Never. My spouse, my daughter, my son, and my father-in-law.

The five of us performed exceptionally well.

A Team. A potent force. Strength is mine.

My best friend (she knows I’m talking about her) forced me to eat even when I couldn’t hold anything back, go out even if I couldn’t stand up, and cut her wonderful curls so I wouldn’t feel alone.

Here… I’m here to tell anyone going through a similar period that “the guest” can be sent away; it takes courage, tenacity, strength and luck. However, it is feasible.

I am writing this to increase awareness among women about the importance of prevention, regular check-ups, and trusting their inherent sixth sense. We are aware of our bodies; if we detect an anomaly that is not present, we investigate it, as the “guest” is intelligent, but we are more knowledgeable.

Christina

I was diagnosed with breast cancer on March 23, 2021. I have experienced a complete transformation in my life since that time; the world has assumed a new significance, and the certainty that I once held has begun to disintegrate like a sandcastle. Fear has replaced the lightheartedness that has always defined me, and concerns have begun to emerge.

The news of cancer’s arrival is never anticipated; it defies categorization and erupts into your life like a tornado, destroying everything in its path.

I, a young woman of 29 years, was struck by the creature.

In the days that followed, I ascended to sleep with the expectation of awakening from a hallucination. Regrettably, the cancer was a reality, and the lump that was proliferating within my breast served as a reminder.

Since that time, I have consistently endeavored to determine the answer to the query, “Why me?”

In the months that followed, I blamed myself; I was convinced that I had done something wrong in life to deserve cancer. One day, a physician informed me, “Cristina, the Lord only entrusts evil to the strong, to those who are prepared to confront it!”

Since that time, I have maintained my attachment to that phrase.

I began to fight against the pain not only of the body but also of the mind, which are the most difficult to fight because they take root in your every thought, conditioning your every choice, your every gesture, even the stupidest.

I thought, “I can handle anything. I have to fight.” It was with this thought that I faced the long and endless months of neoadjuvant chemotherapy and the subsequent bilateral mastectomy surgery.

I then began to convince myself that the disease couldn’t bring me to my knees, couldn’t hinder my decisions, my habits, and my daily joys.

I have always tried to smile at life, even though cancer had given me, to resist the excruciating pain of chemo, the suffering of seeing myself in the mirror without my long black hair and the unstoppable change in my body. Fighting, however, would not have been possible without the support of the people closest to me, who fought day and night at my side.

People Fight with me

It made me understand who matters in my life, what it means to love a person and to be loved in the same way, to build a future with them after the disease; it highlighted the boundless love of a mother, a father, of a brother, of an aunt. It also introduces you to a world of doctors and nurses who do everything they can to fight this terrible disease with you on the front line.

It is not true that angels are found only in heaven; angels are found here, around us, and I was lucky to meet them. I am referring to the doctors who treated me. Without them, I would not have been able to overcome the evil attacking me; they picked me up and healed me with unimaginable care.

I felt protected, cared for and above all, understood, and this is what is needed most by a person facing harsh oncological treatments. In this obstacle course, the women and men who faced the infamous chemo with me every Thursday had particular importance. I remember their eyes, looks, words, and the strength and courage we transmitted to each other to win our battle.

Support with others Suffering

Everything changes inside that breast Ca153 room, and it’s as if you were living in a parallel world, incomprehensible to the eyes of those waiting for you outside.

That place is now part of me and will always be, as are all the details that characterised it: the suffocating smell of disinfectant and chemotherapy drugs, the red colour of chemotherapy, the sound of the therapy machine and that strange sensation of fear mixed with a desire for life that enveloped me every time I lay down in the armchair.

It was March 23, 2021, when my life changed. Since then, a new Cristina has been born; there is a Cristina before and after. Today, I am getting to know this new person; I am trying to manage her anxieties and fears linked to the discovery of the BRCA1 genetic mutation.

Today

Cristina is on a boat in the middle of the calm sea; she is tired after fighting and overcoming the waves of the stormy sea. Cristina is there; she is rowing towards her island of happiness. There is no certainty about how long it will take to reach her, but one thing is certain: Cristina is rowing with all her energy against any weather.