She fumbled the clasp on the new bra and fiddled with the straps until they were comfortable. She laughed a little when she saw how outrageously sexy the bra looked when it was on.
“How does it look?” her mother asked, sticking her head inside the curtain. “Oh, Hannah. Isn’t it wonderful!”
“That’s one word for it. I don’t know if this is really me.”
She had a veritable shelf of breast in front of her, packaged in silk and lace.
“Joe will love it. Not another word, I’m buying it,” her mother insisted.
Hannah shrugged. She knew her mother well enough not to bother arguing. She reached behind her to undo the clasp and felt a stab of pain near her left armpit.
“Ow!” She tugged the bra away from herself and saw the culprit: the tiny safety pin holding the swing-tag to the bra had popped loose.
“Stupid thing.”
She pulled the bra off and soothed the scratch with her hand.
“Give it to me and I’ll take it to the register,” her mother said.
Hannah frowned as she felt something small and firm beneath her fingers.
“What’s wrong?” her mother asked.
Hannah met her mother’s eyes in the mirror. “There’s a lump.”
The smile faded from her mother’s eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. It’s probably nothing. Hormones or something.”
“Let me feel.”
“Mom.” Hannah wasn’t about to let her mother feel her up in a public change room.
“Let me. I have more experience with this than you. My breasts are twenty-five years older than yours.”
Hannah sighed and turned so her mother could poke the side of her breast where it tapered into her armpit. “Can you feel it?”
“Yes.”
Her mother was frowning now. “When did you check your breasts last?”
“I don’t know. Five months ago? Six?”
“Hannah,” her mother said reprovingly.
Hannah started pulling on her own bra. “I’m twenty-eight. Hardly in a high-risk group,” she said when she caught sight of her mother’s worried expression.
She wished she’d never said anything, or that she’d been alone when she tried on the bra. Her mother would be all over her now to get it checked out, and it was probably nothing. Breast cancer was an older woman’s disease.
As if she could read Hannah’s mind, her mother started counting names off on her fingers. “Kylie Minogue. Christina Applegate. Anastacia. Belinda Emmett. Don’t think young women don’t need to be careful. I want you to get this checked out, Hannah.”
Hannah sighed and tugged on her T-shirt. Clearly, she was never going to hear the end of this until she’d made an appointment with her doctor.
“Fine. I’ll go see Dr. Nelson.”
Her mother pulled out her cell phone. “I’ll see if she can fit you in tomorrow.”
“Mom. Will you stop being such a panic merchant? Unbelievable.”
“Consider it your early Christmas present to me—peace of mind.”
Hannah listened resignedly as her mother spoke to the receptionist at the medical center, making an appointment for during her lunch break tomorrow. She’d found a new position as senior mechanic with a big, progressive workshop three weeks ago and was glad her mother at least understood that she couldn’t afford to take time off so early into the job.
“Happy now?” she asked when her mother ended the call.
“Not yet. But I will be.”
THE NEXT DAY, HANNAH greeted her doctor with a self-deprecating smile.
“I feel stupid even mentioning this,” she said when she’d explained about finding the lump. “I mean, I’m twenty-eight. Like it’s going to be anything to worry about, right?”
“It probably isn’t, but you were right to come in. Any changes are worth investigating. The sooner we catch anything, the better,” Dr. Nelson said. “Why don’t you step behind the screen and take your bra and top off and we’ll take a look.”
Hannah did as instructed then eyed the examination couch.
“How do you want me?”
“On your back, with your arm behind your head, elbow out.”
Hannah lay down and Dr. Nelson pushed the screen back and stepped toward the examination table.
“Sorry if my hands are cold,” she said before laying her hands on Hannah’s breast.
“I’ve had worse.”
Dr. Nelson smiled. She became more serious as she concentrated on palpating Hannah’s breast. Hannah tensed as her doctor located the lump and felt around it.
“Okay, it’s definitely a discrete lump. Is there any tenderness when I press it?”
“No, not at all. That’s good, right?”
Dr. Nelson’s small smile was sympathetic and slightly worried. “Accepted theory is that breast cancer lumps are not generally painful. But there are always exceptions to the rule, especially in younger women.”
Hannah frowned. “So is it good or bad that I have no pain?”
The doctor’s eyes were unfocused as she concentrated on palpating the rest of Hannah’s right breast. “I suspect it’s neither here nor there. I’m just going to check your lymph nodes.”
Hannah lay still as Dr. Nelson checked her armpit and neck, then examined her left breast.
“Well, Hannah, I’m going to send you for an ultrasound. There’s no doubt in my mind that this lump is new and therefore worthy of investigation.”
Hannah’s stomach was suddenly hollow. “Okay. Um. When should I book the test?”
“I’ll ask my receptionist to arrange one for you with a radiologist we have a relationship with. They usually keep a few appointments free for cases like this.”
Cases like this. What did that mean?
Dr. Nelson obviously read the uncertainty in her face because she put her hand on Hannah’s shoulder. “We’re being safe, that’s all. Don’t hit the panic button just yet. And remember, if we find something, there’s an enormous amount we can do.”
“Sure.”
Hannah dressed in a daze, her cold hands fumbling with the catch on her bra. She’d expected to be reassured and sent home, not sent off for tests.
It’s nothing. Dr. Nelson said it herself—she’s just being safe.
But the words didn’t make the panicky, fluttering feeling leave her stomach. Hannah waited tensely in the reception area for the receptionist to get off the phone with the radiologist.
“They can fit you in first thing tomorrow. How is that?” the receptionist asked.
“I’ll have to be late for work, but that should be fine,” Hannah said. So much for not looking bad in her new job. She would have to make up the time at the other end of the day.
The receptionist wrote down the address for the radiology clinic and Hannah tucked the card into her pocket. Her first impulse when she stepped outside the clinic was to phone Joe. She hadn’t told him about finding the lump or her appointment, hadn’t thought it worth mentioning, but now she needed to hear his voice, deep and reassuring. She pulled her cell from her pocket, then remembered that he had a huge function booked for The Watering Hole tonight. An office Christmas party, with over two hundred guests. She didn’t want to dump bad news on him when he had to work all night. He’d simply fret and worry, and for what? Tomorrow she’d have her test and get the all clear.
She was about to get on her bike when her cell vibrated in her pocket. It was her mom, surprise, surprise.
“How did you go?”
Hannah hesitated a moment. “Good. Dr. Nelson said not to worry,” she lied.
“Oh, that’s good. Thank God. You must be relieved.”
Hannah closed her eyes. “Yeah, I am.”
“And I suppose you’re cursing me for making you get it checked out.”
“Something like that.”
“Well, I’m not sorry. I’d never have stopped worrying otherwise.”
Hannah made an excuse to end the call. She had no i
dea why she’d just lied to her mother. She simply hadn’t wanted to say the words out loud. The doctor’s sending me for tests. It sounded so ominous. Scary.
She went back to work and spent the evening watching DVDs with Ruby and Ben. It was good to force her worries from her mind and give herself over to the here and now of being with Joe’s kids. Ruby insisted Hannah sit on the floor so Ruby could sit behind her on the couch and braid her hair. By the time Brendan Fraser had finished journeying to the center of the earth, Hannah had a head full of slightly wonky plaits.
“If you leave them in overnight you’ll wake up and your hair will be all kinky,” Ruby said.
“And this is a good thing?” Hannah asked.
“Oh, yes. People pay a fortune to have kinky hair,” Ruby said knowledgeably.
She hustled the kids to bed at eight-thirty, aware they had school the next day. Ben wanted to read for a little while and she left him to it, figuring he’d probably pass out with his book in his hand and she could swing by in twenty minutes and turn the light out. Ruby wanted to talk, and Hannah sat on the side of her bed and listened to her plan her birthday party.
“Some people think it sucks having your birthday so soon after Christmas, but it’s good,” Ruby confided. “People always worry that you feel hard done by and you get extra stuff.”
“I’ve never thought of that.”
“The only thing is, you have to wait a long time with no other presents to break up the year. Ben’s birthday is in June, so he gets presents every six months. But I only get them once a year.”
“That is definitely a bummer. Maybe we should move your birthday, what do you think?”
Ruby laughed. “You can’t move a birthday, silly.”
“So what else are you going to have at this party of yours? Lions and tigers, dancing horses?”
Ruby rolled her eyes at Hannah’s silliness but she was smiling. “No. We’re going to have pass the parcel and musical chairs. And blindman’s buff. And little sandwiches cut into triangles.”
“Mmm. And ice-cream cake. We always had ice-cream cake for our birthday parties.”
Ruby’s face clouded. “My mom used to make our cakes. She had this cookbook with lots of different cakes in it and each year me and Ben were allowed to pick the cake we wanted her to make. I’ve had a castle, a turtle, a pony and a puppy. The puppy was the best.” Ruby’s hands plucked at the edge of the sheet as she remembered.
“I bet they were great cakes.”
“They were. They were the best.”
Ruby’s voice had dropped to a whisper and she blinked rapidly. Hannah patted her knee. “Why don’t you squish over and I’ll lie down with you?”
Ruby shuffled over without a protest and Hannah kicked her shoes off and lay down beside her, sliding an arm around the little girl’s middle so she was snuggling her from behind.
“You give good cuddles,” Ruby said.
“So do you.”
They were both quiet for a few minutes.
“Hannah?”
“Yes?”
“I’m glad we moved in next to you.”
“Me, too, sweetheart.”
Slowly Hannah felt the tension leave Ruby’s body as she drifted toward sleep.
Hannah started to ease away from her, but Ruby shifted restlessly.
“Don’t go. I don’t want you to go.”
Hannah subsided and waited until Ruby was breathing steadily before sliding out of the bed.
Joe came home late, tired and smelling of beer and cigarette smoke. She swallowed the urge to spill all her doubts into his lap as she listened to him detail the small dramas of the evening. He was tired, and she knew he would be worried if she told him what was happening. It seemed pointless and selfish to do that to him when she would probably get the all clear tomorrow.
Because that was what was going to happen, definitely.
So instead of telling him, she went home to stare at the ceiling and count the hours till morning.
THE RADIOLOGIST WAS a friendly older woman who patiently explained the ultrasound procedure to Hannah before asking her to undress and lie on a table with her arm behind her head. Cool gel was smoothed over Hannah’s skin and the ultrasound wand pressed against her breast. Hannah watched the screen intently, trying to understand what she was seeing.
“So is this what you guys do now instead of mammograms?” she asked.
“Oh, no, mammograms are still very much in use. But when we’re looking at younger breasts, ultrasound is often more helpful. Younger breast tissue is much more dense and not so easy to look at with X-ray.”
“Oh, right.”
The radiologist paused as she ran the wand over the area near the lump. Hannah watched the screen, her heart in her mouth. “Is there something there?”
“There’s an unusual mass, yes,” the radiologist said slowly.
Hannah had to swallow before she could speak again.
“Is it cancer?”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that just by looking. We need to take a biopsy. But we can do that now.”
Hannah nodded dumbly. She’d stand on her head if only this woman would give her the all clear.
The radiologist started to assemble a tray with needles and swabs and other medical paraphernalia. After a local anesthetic, she used the ultrasound to target the lump in Hannah’s breast and then drew some cells out of it using a fine needle.
Hannah watched as the woman smeared the cells onto a glass plate.
“These go off to the lab now. You should have the results within forty-eight hours.”
More waiting. Hannah tried to smile and failed. She dressed slowly and rode to the garage. For the rest of the day she threw herself into her work, trying to drive fear and uncertainty away through sheer willpower.
She was supposed to have fish and chips on the beach with Joe and the kids for dinner but she called and told him she thought she was coming down with a cold. She couldn’t look into his eyes and not tell him what was going on. And she wanted to, so much. Wanted his support. His concern. But she’d already decided to spare him the worry she was going through. Joe had been through enough.
She was inspecting the shock absorbers on a Range Rover when her phone vibrated in her pocket the following day. She closed her eyes when she heard her doctor’s voice. Dread thumped in her belly. There was no reason for her doctor to call her before her scheduled appointment tomorrow afternoon unless there was bad news.
“Hannah, I’d like you to come in today if possible,” Dr. Nelson said. Her voice was calm but serious.
“Oh, God.”
“Can you make it this afternoon? Let me know and I’ll shuffle appointments around.”
A great rush of fear surged up inside Hannah and she pressed her forehead against the cool metal of the car.
“Hannah?”
“I’m still here.” Just. Barely.
“Can you come in?”
“Yes. I think so. I need to talk to my boss.”
“Look, why don’t you just come when you can. We’ll work around you.”
Hannah nodded, then realized Dr. Nelson couldn’t see her. “Sure.”
“Hang in there, okay?”
Hannah ended the call. She felt dizzy. Her stomach was tight; it was hard to breathe.
She had cancer. That was the only reason Dr. Nelson could possibly want her to come in so urgently.
She couldn’t think. Her brain was resounding with the shock of it. Adrenaline was surging through her body, but there was nothing for her to fight or flee from. Whatever was attacking her was inside her body, inescapable, unavoidable.
After a few minutes she took a deep breath and forced herself to push away from the car. She concentrated on the short-term goal of getting to the doctor’s. That was the most important thing right now.
Her boss took one look at her bloodless face and gave her the afternoon off, no questions asked. She rode to the clinic and the receptionist notified Dr. Nelson the
moment Hannah announced herself. Within five minutes she was sitting opposite her G.P.
“As you’ve probably guessed, your tests have come back positive. Hannah, you have what’s classified as invasive ductal carcinoma. It’s the most common form of breast cancer. Basically, it means the cancer started in one of your milk ducts and has spread into the surrounding breast tissue.”
Hannah’s hands were clamped to her knees, her knuckles white. “Am I going to die?”
“You’re young, the lump is small, there are some excellent treatments for breast cancer. You have every chance of surviving,” Dr. Nelson said.
Hannah stared at her. She’d been looking for a one-word response: no. She hadn’t gotten it.
“I’m referring you to an excellent surgeon. He works at the Peter Mac Hospital in the city. He’s very highly regarded.”
Hannah tried to marshal her thoughts. There were things she ought to ask, but for the life of her she couldn’t think of what they were.
“Hannah, is there someone I can call for you? Maybe someone who can come and give you a lift home?”
Joe’s face filled her mind and her eyes flooded with tears. She blinked a few times, then straightened her shoulders. “I’ll be fine. I just need to get my head together.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
By the time she left the doctor’s office she had an appointment to see a surgeon on Monday of the following week. Dr. Nelson explained that they would want to operate quickly as breast cancer in younger women could sometimes be more aggressive than in older women.
“And we’ll want to test you for the breast cancer gene. That might make a difference to your treatment. But Dr. Minton will go over all of that with you.”
Hannah rode home, but instead of parking her bike and going inside to tell Joe and her mother and the rest of her world that she might be dying, she rode straight past.
She wasn’t ready to go home yet.
She rode hard and fast down the highway until she hit the beach. Then she parked her bike and strode the length of the St. Kilda Pier. She stared out at the ocean and took in big gulps of fresh air, her hair tangling around her face in the breeze.
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