Wednesday August 8, 2012 - five days before my 29th birthday - is the day my life became split by ‘before’ and ‘after’. It was the start of a life of thinking about cancer every single day, something I’d thought little about before.

I’m not one of those good girls who examined herself (we really should), I simply found a lump when showering.

I postponed going to the GP, confident that it was nothing more than a cyst. I mean, we had no family history of breast cancer and that’s what counts, right? Wrong. Only five to 10 per cent of all breast cancers are genetic.

Despite thinking it was a cyst too, my GP referred me to the breast clinic at the hospital because of where the lump was on my body.

A week after the standard tests and a biopsy I went back to the hospital for the results.

When I went into the room there were two nurses waiting. So sure was I that nothing was wrong, I assumed they were in there to monitor a new doctor; making sure she was doing things correctly. Little did I know that at 4.40pm on that day they were there for me.

I don’t suppose I will ever forget the conversation I had with that doctor, and the way she tilted her head as she said the words: “It is a cancer.”

How stupid was I not to have prepared myself for this moment? Not to have thought, even once, that it could be cancer. But why would I have? Things like this don’t happen to people like me, right?

Every day since then I have thought about cancer. Slowly but surely, every part of my life and lifestyle has been affected by this disease and its treatments. There are things you don’t learn about cancer from films and TV shows.

I didn’t know that I would have to have chemotherapy just because of my age (my operation successfully removed the tumour, and it hadn’t spread to my lymph nodes); I didn’t know that chemotherapy could bring on early menopause; I didn’t know I’d have to have fertility treatment to freeze eggs in case my ovaries don’t recover.

When I was diagnosed I didn’t know that it was unusual to develop breast cancer at my age, I didn’t know that I would be surrounded by older people in the hospital and would never see another person under 30 who was unmarried and childless.

I had no concept of how completely isolated this diagnosis would make me feel.

When I was diagnosed, the thing that upset me most was that I hadn't told my parents that I was going for these checks because I didn't want to worry them unnecessarily.

I realised that I was going to have to tell them that their youngest daughter had cancer and that they’d have to nurse me through any surgery and treatment I was going to have.

I felt guilty about how much time I'd have to have off work (ridiculous but true) and I was just upset at the inconvenience of what was ahead. I have to say that I never thought I was going to die from this, it didn't cross my mind at any point and I'm sure the doctors and nurses had a big part to play in that.

I do feel exceptionally lucky to have been in Oxford at this time as I feel that I've been offered everything throughout treatment and had excellent surgeons and oncologists.

When they told me my diagnosis they had already booked in my surgery for three weeks later. I had a lumpectomy because my tumour was relatively small (from an MRI scan) and 10 days after that I was told that I'd have to have chemotherapy and radiotherapy followed by taking a tablet (tamoxifen) for five years.

Although my prognosis was good, because I was so young they recommended I had chemotherapy to 'protect my future'.

Because chemo can put women into the menopause early, I went through fertility treatment to freeze some eggs. I also started monthly injections of Zoladex to shut down my ovaries in the hope that the chemo drugs wouldn't attack them, but only time will tell really.

That was October and I started six cycles of chemo in November which was every three weeks until the end of February.

I took each week following treatment off but then worked the other two weeks, which I feel helped me through (having something else to focus on).

My work were really supportive throughout and such a help.

I lost my hair and had to wear a wig, which was quite upsetting at the time but I accepted it quickly. I think it was the anticipation of it happening that was the worst. When it started to come out I was upset for about an hour but then I just thought "Well, that's it done now".

Chemotherapy for me was certainly unpleasant but was nowhere near as bad as I was imagining. I wasn't sure how I was going to feel but, again, the anticipation was worse than the reality.

I think it's a common thing, but when you receive a cancer diagnosis it's interesting to see how some friends pull away and some acquaintances really pull through. Whilst they will never understand what it is like to go through cancer treatment (in the same way that I cannot possibly imagine what it is like to lose a parent or sibling), it's nice to have people just talk to you rather than leave the room when you come into it.

I had radiotherapy in April which was more of an inconvenience (going to the hospital every week day) than anything else, and now I just take a tamoxifen tablet every day. The side effects are a bit annoying (weight gain, forgetfulness, hot flushes, low mood) but I guess they're better than the alternative!

In terms of my future, time will tell! The tumour was successfully removed and the treatment was largely preventative so there is nothing to test really. I will have annual mammograms and will, of course, check myself regularly.

Unfortunately, just because treatment is over doesn't mean that the whole thing is over for me. There are still days where I really struggle and this has surprised me; I thought that I would just go back to normal after treatment finished. But hopefully things will eventually even out and I'll maybe even stop thinking about it every day some time in the future.