July 3:
The holiday to Center Parcs does not go well at all, we return early tired and slightly depressed. Our daughter Laura has suffered many panic attacks, some of them seriously embarrassing for us all, and it isn't fair on her to stay any longer. Too much has changed for her in the past few days and when we finally arrive at C.P. everything appears to be going wrong.

There is no welcome (food) pack and I haven't thought that one through by bringing much to eat, so that has to be sorted. When we get the bikes they have changed them for geared mountain bikes with crossbars. I can't get my leg over the damn thing and when I do I try to dismount through the crossbar, thus nearly throwing myself off the boardwalk.

The chain drops off Alan's before we can really get going. We return them and decide to walk it this time – inevitably it rains and the land trains are too full for Laura to cope with.

My haircut – booked to make me feel better – is given to me by an Amy Winehouse lookalike hairdresser who asks me what I thought of her performance at Glastonbury – sorry, where? Who? I'm not that bad but honestly the topic of conversation for a non-hip 57-year-old was painful and I came out with the bob style haircut I used to have when I was five. Still no-one laughed - they daren't.

The ultimate came when Alan and Laura talked me into going down the wild water rapids – something I have always avoided because I hate rough water and really don't like being out of control or ducked under, so why did I do that? I don't know, but after what seemed like a year of being thrown, buffeted, ducked and whirled round under the water I surfaced coughing and spluttering with a bruised hip, bashed ankle and a bad case of no street cred. Par for the course, then! We arrive home late Thursday night. I could have had that hospital appointment, after all!

Monday, July 7:
I should be back at work today but despite the fact that this is the first day I have felt relatively normal(!), I'm finding that I just cannot concentrate on any one thing at all.

For no reason the smallest things set me off and I cannot seem to complete one job before starting another and then stopping to type something I have thought about. Alan has gone back to work and the holiday – such as it was – is officially over.

Laura is due to go off on Friday for her first holiday with friends. One reason I dare not go back to work at the school is in case I pick up something that may delay the inevitable operation or worse, make my recovery slower or jeopardise it in some way.

There have been terrible outbreaks of impetigo/shingles/threadworm. I can't imagine how I would feel if I picked up something like that and then couldn't go in for a few days/weeks longer. It's not worth it. I feel safe here. I don't ever remember feeling quite this way before but it will pass.

At some point I'm going to have to out for something but just for now I want to feel safe. I have rung the breast clinic to ask them exactly what type of cancer I have – I forgot when they rang me on holidays (or I didn't want to know) and they will ring back later today. I want to know it all and that way I can face it better.

They phoned back – no answers until Friday, I'll have a million questions by then but it will all be explained and I'll get an information pack etc. Seeing the doctor on Wednesday, although quite what she can do I do not know but I will need some sort of leave of absence note for work.

Tuesday, July 8:
The waiting is the worst and the lack of sleep. The early hours gremlin wakes me at dawn and then sings to me along with the birds, so no more sleep for me. I drop off again about 6pm and then can't get out of bed at the right time!

I really wish I hadn't put off seeing the surgeon for a week. It's the not knowing that's worse, far worse than having to go for that first appointment before I knew – if you see what I mean.

Actually if you can see what I mean please phone as I'm obviously going absolutely crazy. I must get myself outside this house! Still, I'm seeing the doctor tomorrow so that makes me have to go out.

The plus side is that Laura is obviously much happier now. I have spoken to her college tutor about assignments and she is perfectly happy to let Laura concentrate on the problems we have and leave all work alone.

The letter that was sent out warning everyone about late hand-ins did not actually apply to Laura (why send it, then?) and the tutor that has caused so much pain and confusion this year all round is not returning and next year will be taken by a more experienced person and be far more structured.

Laura is immensely relieved and the knock-on to that is so am I! Driving lessons have resumed with a female instructor who can actually relate to Laura – I must ask her the secret!

Spoke to Lynn from work today and somehow that made things more normal and cheered me up immensely – thanks, Lynn. Its Debbie's leaving dinner tonight but I really don't feel like going, if you're reading this Debbie I'm very sorry and I do hope you understand and I wish you a wonderful, adventurous and happy time in France. Bonne chance!

Wednesday, July 9:
Every day is different. Last night I had awful dreams about mis-shapen women and woke up early feeling sick. I can't shake the sick feeling and am in the loo every five minutes.

I seem to be running on some kind of auto pilot that has a glitch in its programme! I keep losing things and forgetting what I'm doing (actually that might be normal for me!).

Part of me is furious about all this because up until now everything health-wise has been so good, apart from the tiredness that overwhelmed me a few months ago – which I put down to age, but thinking about it perhaps it was the start of cancer – I have had no problems with anything else.

The only thing that every so often would lay me low was my back and that would only be the odd occasion. I hardly ever succumb to bugs and other things and now I feel that my body will have to eventually undergo some kind of drug therapy with all sorts of side effects that will be most unpleasant!

I rang the clinic today as I wanted ask if there were going to be any more tests on Friday and spoke to she of the hairy chest.

We had a talk and she confirmed that nothing more than a chat would take place, although she said, he may want a feel...want a feel? Is that nurse-speak for "He may wish to examine you, Mrs Candy!?

My mind is transported back many decades to the back row of the Embassy cinema – how very dare you, I think!

Back from doctor's now; she was extremely nice and had already been notified by the L&D Hospital. I explained that I seemed to be none functioning mentally and she confirmed that this was perfectly normal!

She did say that most people with a "bolt out the blue" (so they do exist!) cancer diagnosis often find it hard to believe because they feel physically quite healthy and having had no prior warning – like discovering the lump yourself and therefore your mind gradually coming to the conclusion it might not be nice news – it is literally a shock which knocks you off kilter. So, I'm not going mad after all!

She did say that from experience of other patients she knew that most people feel better after seeing the surgeon and that this waiting is truly the worst time. That's something, I suppose. She also said that if at any time I was left wondering or waiting without news I must see her and in the meantime issued me a little pink note for Marion. If only it didn't say breast carcinoma on it!

Part Six next week

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