This week in June is always difficult for me. Six years ago over the Youth Day weekend, I found a lump in my right breast.

I remember everything about that day. A cold morning and a gloriously warm middle of the day that I spent with my lovely niece Zoe. We had breakfast. And laughed. Shopped. And laughed. Teased each other. And laughed. Up to that point, it was a good day.

Mid-afternoon, having dropped Zoe at the Sandton Gautrain station, I settled on the couch to watch that week’s episode of Game of Thrones. A treat I’d saved for Saturday afternoon.

It was the now famous red wedding episode, in which the matriarch of Winterfell, Catelyn Stark (my favourite character!) is slaughtered. I remember being so shocked that I raised my right arm to cover my mouth with my right hand and brushed against my breast. That’s when I felt it; a round knob under my skin...

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