WHY? Why two days prior to my holiday do I decide to call an off the cuff appointment with the clinical trials doctor to discuss antibiotics in case my swollen arm becomes infected whilst I am away on holiday.

Why did I decide to ask them to tell me medically why I’m wrong in thinking I’ve not got lymphedema on the opposite side to my surgery (which I have researched myself to discover this along with puzzled looks from the lymphedema nurses) and that it’s the cancer that’s down my arm as similar to my breast swelled massively 8 1/2 years ago, is it the same reason causing my arm to swell?

Why did I choose to ask this question when I wasn’t prepared for the answer - that I was more than likely correct.

Arrrrrrrrgggggggghhhhhhhhhhhh! Again I am diagnosing myself.

As we continued the discussion of why they cannot increase the dosage because my body cannot tolerate the side effects, she told me after the next meeting it maybe time to refer me back to my original oncologist.

Upon saying this she asked me had I received my appointment for the Psyco-oncology counselling which I had been referred to weeks previous to help me cope with living with my diagnosis.

In a split second I thought she’s asking me this because there’s nothing left now and I’m going to die and the counselling team will help me deal with this.

From nowhere, I began to cry.

I was alone and she reached out and kindly put her hand on mine and told me at this stage I have nothing to worry about.

Everything is still open for discussion and she will research if there are any other trials available and if I suitably fit the criteria.

Passing me some paper towel to dry my tears the medical student in the room gave me a sympathetic look and asked if I was on any anti depressive medication which I shook my head to.

After taking a deep breath in I replied that I have enough side effects from the amount of poison pumped through my veins without taking anything else.

Although I didn’t elaborate I know that my demons are from my own thoughts of the future and of dying and to combat this I must remain more present, living in the now.

Then I remember that anything could happen and I’ve worried for years when something has always been waiting for me around the corner.

I just worry how much longer until my luck runs out?

Photographs of my swollen arm and offending skin rash were taken soon after as the doctor prescribed some antibiotic just in case my arm became infected.

As I left the room thankful for her honesty and the time she had taken to see me when I didn’t have an appointment, she told me not to worry and to have a wonderful holiday.

I nipped to the bathroom, wiped my tear-stained face, popped my fuscia lipstick on, inhaled deeply and found the courage to take her up on her words and step out smiling.

I will not worry. I will have a great holiday. I will face the music on my return.

And last but not least I will tell myself I am going to be ok.

Not because I am burying my head in the sand but because I do not know what the future holds so I feel better in myself when thinking positive thoughts and in turn this has a positive effect on my immune system.

The bad thoughts will always be there.

Sat on my shoulder... literally as the rash descends over the top of my shoulder now, but I choose not to stay in that thick, black fog as the sun is shining where I’m going and it’s a much better place for my soul to be sat in the sun not feeling fed up in the fog.

Learning to live with what life throws at me I’ll face this next hurdle the same way I’ve faced all the others.

With a smile and hope in my heart.

Our blogger Melanie O'Neill has two children and was diagnosed with inflammatory breast cancer eight years ago.