'You never for one minute think it's going to be you'

TODAY, the risk of a woman in Scotland developing breast cancer over the course of her lifetime is estimated to be one in ten.

Across the country, approximately 75 new cases are diagnosed every week - and the number is growing. But amid such gloomy statistics there is good news to be found too. If it's caught early, the outlook can be positive. "Twenty years ago, 55% of all patients diagnosed would survive breast cancer," says Udi Chetty, consultant surgeon at the breast unit at Edinburgh's Western General hospital. "Today it's more like 75%. And 90% of women with small cancers that are detected early will survive. The reason for this is partly because the cancers are being caught earlier, and because of better treatments."

Research into the molecular structure of breast cancer means that each case is now considered and treated on an individual basis. "Previously everyone would have had a mastectomy, but now surgery depends on the size and type of the tumour, which part of the breast it is in, and how much of the breast you can conserve," says Chetty.

Advances in drugs have made a huge difference too. Now it is possible to determine who will benefit from the anti-oestrogen drug Tamoxifen, currently the world's largest-selling breast cancer treatment, and Herceptin, a drug used in the early stages of the disease.

What remains a mystery, however, is why breast cancer occurs at all. Studies carried out on twins found that 28% of cancers are inherited, and the particular genes that carry the disease have been identified. A study in the United States has also linked a drop in the incidence of breast cancer with women who stopped taking hormone replacement therapy (HRT). Data from other countries suggest that diet is also an important factor - Japan, for example, has one eighth of the incidence of breast cancer seen in the UK.

The reasons why breast cancer is on the rise in Scotland are twofold. Firstly, the nation has an ageing population (women over the age of 50 are more likely to develop the disease), while a heightened awareness of the disease has also led to an increase in the number of cases being detected.

Charity events have done much towards the latter - not least the Moonwalk, a 26-mile walk that starts in Edinburgh at midnight next Saturday. A record 10,000 participants will be taking part in the event - including three of the women featured here - and the money raised, which will stay in Scotland, is set to exceed the £1.6 million raised through last year's inaugural Moonwalk in the capital.

But while research into breast cancer becomes ever more advanced, the advice for all women remains the same. "If you find an abnormality in your breast, go to the doctor and get it checked out," says Chetty. "The worst thing you can possibly do is ignore it."

Leona Levey (39) lives in Edinburgh with her husband Steve and two children. She has had breast cancer three times in five years.

MY MUM had breast cancer - she's doing fine now - so I suppose it was always at the back of my mind that I could get it too. But to be diagnosed at the age of 33 was still a shock.

I have a 16-year-old son, Aaron, and an 11-year-old daughter, Courtney, who have been fantastic, totally supportive. They keep me on my toes - I have a second job as a taxi driver for them. Rather than hide anything from them, my husband and I have kept them up to date all the way through my treatment. If you keep news from them, they worry more.

I had a mastectomy, a course of chemo and radiotherapy, and then I was given Tamoxifen. A couple of years later I had a relapse and was put on another course of chemotherapy. Last year I was put on yet another course, because the breast cancer had progressed to a couple of lesions on my lungs and another one behind my sternum.

You just get to the end of one thing and go on to the next. It's about being as positive and active as you can be. I've continued to do everything I would normally do. I teach PE and was off for a year at the start, but I have managed to work through the rest.

I did the Moonwalk last year, which was fantastic, but my training for this year's event has been more difficult. Over the last course of chemotherapy, my hands and feet have suffered - they have blistered and peeled and have been very sensitive.

This time around, though, I haven't lost my hair, which I did the previous two times. I had a couple of wigs that I didn't tend to wear much. It wasn't pleasant, but I had a couple of friends who did big fundraisers for the Breast Cancer Institute and got their heads shaved to support me, which was great.

Marjory Cameron (42), a nurse, and her husband Gordon live in East Lothian with their daughter, Marjory's three children from her previous marriage and Gordon's four children from his previous marriage. Since Marjory was diagnosed with breast cancer last year, the couple have set up a blog about their experiences (www.twinkletwinkles.com).

I HAVE no history of breast cancer - or any kind of cancer - in my family at all, but in April 2006 I found a small lump in my right breast. My husband Gordon, who is a GP, thought it was just a cyst. I'm a nurse and thought so too, but I had it checked out the next day. Lo and behold, it turned out to be hiding a lot more, as an ultrasound found five tiny tumours in my breast and eight positive lymph nodes. I had a mastectomy at the beginning of last May. It was quite an aggressive cancer, but luckily it was caught quite early.

It hits you like a thunderbolt, and at the beginning I panicked. My daughter Anna was four at the time, and I thought, "What if I'm not here for her first day at school?" As time goes on, you think, "No, that's nonsense, you're going to be fine." But things moved incredibly quickly. I had never even had an operation before: I'd been a fit, healthy person, and it was a complete shock.

I went on to have six months of chemotherapy and a month of radiotherapy, neither of which were as bad as I had feared. I did feel tired, but I didn't have to stay in bed. I have a big family - four children and four step-children, ranging in age from five years old to 20 - and Gordon works full time, but I wanted to get on with things by myself. I just coped by focusing on what was going to happen next. I recovered quickly from the mastectomy, and three weeks after it I did the Race for Life, which was great.

When I was first diagnosed I tried to look things up on the internet, but only found medical information, which was frustrating. Nobody warns you about post-op complications. They're not serious, but you do panic, which is why Gordon and I started a blog.

A lot of people have said how helpful the blog has been. But it has been good for me too, and I have enjoyed doing it. We had 200 people sign up for our newsletter, and we are also linked to 60 other websites. My treatment finished in January. I didn't expect to feel so flat, but I did. Everybody wants you to get back to normal straight away, but you're still tired, still bald and you feel alone and quite vulnerable. So I have been going along to the Maggie's Centre at Edinburgh's Western General Hospital. I didn't use it before because I didn't feel ready and just wanted to focus on getting through my treatment. It's a wonderful resource. I would encourage anyone who has been touched by cancer to go along.

Being bald is horrible for any woman, but you know it's a superficial thing and only temporary. The week after treatment started my best friend, my 18-year-old daughter and I shared a bottle of champagne and shaved all my hair off. You then lose your eyebrows and eyelashes as well, which is distressing. But it has all grown back in now.

I'm on Herceptin for another four or five months, and long-term hormone treatment for five years. Herceptin was just approved when I was diagnosed, and I'm so lucky to have got it. I have just been for my annual review with my surgeon, and I'm due to get another mastectomy and reconstruction in the next six months. I feel increasingly positive as time goes on that I've beaten this thing and I'm going to be fine.

Angela Graham (36) and her husband Danny have three children - Jack (eight), Adam (five) and Julia (nine months). They live in Glasgow.

Angela Graham
Picture: Robert Perry

I WAS diagnosed before Christmas, when my daughter Julia was three and a half months old. Both my GP and I thought the lump might be a blocked milk duct. I went along to the breast clinic on my own because I thought nothing of it, and was told that day it was cancer. I was 35 and in total disbelief. It's a cliché, but you think cancer only happens to older people. You never for one minute think it's going to be you. I went on automatic pilot and took the kids to the hairdresser that day - I sat there numb, trying to look normal while my husband was out in the car phoning round all our friends and family to tell them. I couldn't get the words out.

The cancer turned out to be two tumours, in my right breast and the lymph nodes. The NHS staff were fabulous - I got all the tests before Christmas and I was phoned with the results over the holidays. Everything else was clear, thankfully. I first had chemo on my birthday, January 4. We had to cancel a holiday to Florida, but I thought it was more important to start the treatment.

Then someone told me about the Maggie's Centre, and I signed up to a Living with Cancer course. It was the best thing that ever happened to me. I saw women a year down the line from me and realised they were still sitting there, smiling, happy and getting on with things. It gave me a boost at the right time, and it was a relief to find others in my situation. I did the Look Good, Feel Better course - it's like beauty school and is hilarious. One wig comes off, then a scarf and half the room is bald.

I was surprised not to feel more traumatised about losing my hair. My oldest son, Jack, was quite upset. He couldn't look at me for a while. But I think the boys have forgotten I'm ill, as they're so used to my bald head. Cancer is part of family life, and discussed quite openly.

I'm waiting for a mastectomy now, which has been cancelled twice because my white blood cell count is very low. I've got to wait for the bone marrow to start working, which is frustrating as it's important for me to get the cancer out now.

You read about people who say "cancer changed me", but I don't think that happens instantly. It doesn't turn you into a saint by any means, but you do learn to appreciate things more - such as having three children. And I don't fuss about little things like putting on a couple of pounds.

Danny has been wonderful. He runs his own business, but came to all my appointments. His attitude has always been that I'm going to be fine. Whether or not that's true, it's what you need to hear.


ChristineTulloch (56) is the inspiration behind Booby Birds (www.boobybirds.co.uk), a group of women who are skydiving to raise money for breast cancer charities.

WHEN I was diagnosed with breast cancer at the beginning of 2004, it was fairly advanced. I only went to the doctor because my left breast was enlarged. I had been a B cup all my life, and all of a sudden I was a C cup. But it wasn't until I was on a sabbatical from my job as director of a big advertising agency that I thought to have it checked out.

I had two enlarged tumours in my left breast, and in the last few years I've had two lots of chemo, two operations and one lot of radiotherapy. I've been on a combination of Herceptin and Omnitarg, but stopped it in January - my first break from drugs in three years. But I haven't been feeling great lately. I started more chemo yesterday - intravenous tablets that you take long-term, so hopefully they won't have the same devastating effects.

I have been very aware that my disease is progressive, and it's not going to change. My strategy has been to bury it and pretend it's not really happening. I know it's there, but it's a question of trying to park it to one side as much as I can. The most important thing for me has been to lead as normal a life as possible. I'm determined to go on working and going out with friends. Facing up to cancer is a slow process. You have lots of setbacks and they're devastating, but somehow you have to accept it and get on with your life. I didn't work for the first two years after diagnosis, but I started a job at the Scottish Executive about a year and a half ago, and that has been great.

I have an ex-husband who has been very supportive, and a daughter in her 20s who has been fantastic - we've just come back from a three-week holiday in Canada and Alaska. My friend Tina Korup had the idea for the Booby Birds. During my second course of chemo, she could see I was in freefall and wanted to show the ultimate support. She decided to face her biggest fear - which was jumping out of a plane. So the goal now is to get 20 high-profile women doing the skydive, each raising a huge amount of money for breast cancer charities. We're looking for a couple more - if any brave women out there are willing and able... Our fundraising target is £400,000. Twenty women will jump from an altitude of 10,000ft, and it will take six minutes to reach the ground.

A Booby Birds team is taking part in this year's Moonwalk, on June 16. I have been training for it since the start of the year, but I'm back on chemo now and I've also got water on my lungs, so it's doubtful that I will finish it. But I'll certainly have a go.

Maureen Morrison (54) owns Stringers, a music shop in Edinburgh. She had breast cancer 22 years ago.

Maureen Morrison

I WAS 32 and had just had my second baby when I discovered I had breast cancer. The lump arose in late pregnancy, but it was difficult to detect because lactating breasts are lumpy and it was misdiagnosed by my GP. I actually had to put myself into hospital in the end, and didn't have the lump removed until my baby was six weeks old - by which time it was large and very malignant, and they didn't hold out much hope for my survival.

It was horrendous, but I coped, because I had a newborn baby and a two-year-old to look after. I lost all my hair and became very thin after the chemo, and then had equally strong radiotherapy. The third stage was a radioactive wire implanted in the affected breast. I was very lucky to be treated in Edinburgh - I reckon if I had been living anywhere else in the country I might not be here today.

Even then, in 1984, the Longmore Breast Unit, which is now based at Edinburgh's Western General, was at the forefront of its time and offered groundbreaking chemotherapy. I had a lumpectomy, not a mastectomy, which was also groundbreaking at the time.

But being told it was highly likely I wouldn't survive beyond five years was the worst thing that happened to me, and did me far more harm than the illness itself. What did help me survive was the routine of having a new baby and a toddler. I would have chemotherapy at 2pm and was fine until about midnight, after which I would vomit and pee red stuff until about 8am - it was extraordinary that all the bad effects were during the night.

The misdiagnosis was the worst thing of all. I thought about following it up, but decided my concentration had to be on surviving. If I hadn't survived my husband may have done something about it, but the GP has been very generous towards the Breast Cancer Institute ever since.

When I had the cancer I was a professional cellist with the Scottish Chamber Orchestra. I went back after a year, but had to stop a few years later - not because of the disease, but because of the effects of radiotherapy on my upper torso. Even now I can only play for about half an hour. It's strange. The effects of radiotherapy get worse the further you get from the treatment. That's why I opened a music shop.

For years after having cancer, you wonder if it is going to come back. But I cope with that a great deal better now because my children are independent - they're 22 and 25. I now have check-ups once a year. The only visible difference now is that my left breast is slightly smaller than my right, and I have a two-inch scar on it.

At the time, everyone was shocked that I had developed cancer so young, but since my diagnosis a number of my friends have also had breast cancer. It's too common now. I have just been through it with my mother-in-law and a very close friend.

The people of Scotland do not realise what we have here - the Western General in Edinburgh, the Christie hospital in Manchester and the Marsden in London are the top three places for treating breast cancer in the UK, and we need to support them as much as we can. I am part of a campaign to have even greater services here.

My advice for other women now is to follow your instincts. If you have any form of lump whatsoever, get it tested. Don't be fobbed off, especially during pregnancy.

John McNiven (61) was diagnosed with breast cancer in February last year. Breast cancer in men is relatively rare - one man for every 200 women is diagnosed with it. He has three children, including his daughter Sandra Alexander, and six grandchildren. He is a long-distance lorry driver.

Sandra: DAD was diagnosed in February last year and had surgery the next month. He found a small, pea-like lump just above his nipple. His GP referred him to the hospital, where he had a biopsy taken.

It was totally out of the blue and a real shock. Everyone thinks of breast cancer as a women's disease, and I had never met or heard of any men who suffered from it. And there's no family history of it at all.

He had a mastectomy - they left his nipple, but removed the lymph nodes. Then he had six doses of chemo followed by a full course of radiotherapy. I never thought the worst because he had such a positive attitude, and it rubbed off on us. What has amazed me most of all about him is the fact that, with the exception of when he had the surgery, he worked throughout all of his treatment. If he had any bad side-effects, he didn't say anything.

Now, he's fantastic. He'll be on Tamoxifen for the next five years and get regular check-ups. But he is doing extremely well and we're very proud of him.

John: I DECIDED that rather than be in the house alone I would prefer to keep busy and continue working during my treatment. If my wife was still living she would probably have given me grief for that, but it kept my mind occupied. I would work night shifts, then have a few hours' kip in the morning, have chemo in the afternoon and then start work again at 10pm.

The surgeon did a good job of removing the lump - I was out of hospital in two days. The treatments I had were anything but nice, but now I'm on Tamoxifen and that's fine - I just take it with my aspirin in the morning.