She survived IRA bombings. Then she met the 'butcher surgeon'

In 2003, Deborah Douglas’ worst nightmare became reality when she discovered a pea-sized lump in her breast. She’d suspected something was wrong since collapsing on holiday the previous year, but put it down to stress. When she found the lump, she ignored it at first. Both of her parents had recently died from different cancers; grief and exhaustion meant she couldn’t handle another health battle, especially her own. It took several months until she mentioned it to her GP. 

They were reassuring, saying the lump was likely nothing but they’d refer her to the hospital. The waiting list was potentially months long though and Deborah remembered the private health insurance that came with her engineer’s job at Rolls Royce. She’d never used it before but surely private medicine meant faster and better care? 

Just days later, she was shaking hands with Ian Paterson, a consultant at the hospital now known as Spire Parkway. He was a tall, heavy-set man in his forties, wearing a tailored suit that fitted in with the plush surroundings of the private hospital. He was friendly and engaging, got down to business. “Let’s send you for a scan and do some tests”, he said. 

When the ultrasound results came back, Paterson said they’d need to do a biopsy to test for cancer; it came back positive. Deborah would need a mastectomy of her left breast, Paterson said, and lymph node removal. He told her she could have an immediate breast reconstruction, using muscle and blood from her stomach. “You’ll go in with two boobs, and come out with two boobs and a nice flat stomach”, he joked. To boot, she was also to undergo over half a year of chemotherapy, beginning in January 2004 — it would improve her chances of the cancer being destroyed, Paterson said.

Recovery was gruelling and traumatic. Deborah was in constant pain, couldn’t walk properly, gained weight from the chemotherapy drugs and lost her hair. The simplest of physical tasks became impossible. She didn’t recognise her body, and lived in constant fear that the cancer would come back. “I was still grieving my parents, and their deaths from cancer were constant reminders of how things might have gone”, she said.