In 1995 Wiseman was doing one of her regular breast self-examinations when she found a small lump; hard, round and the size of a pea in her armpit.

Worried and fully aware of a positive family history of breast cancer the 32-year-old single mom immediately went to her family doctor. After an examination the physican referred her to a general surgeon. The surgeon did a needle aspiration (insertion of a needle into the breast to obtain cells). Wiseman remembers during the procedure the surgeon said, "We know it's not a cyst because I drew no fluid." The surgeon also said, "Young women often have lumpy breasts because of underwire bras."

Wiseman said alarm bells rang when the doctor said the lump wasn't a cyst. "I thought if it's not a cyst what is it?" However, she didn't say anything when the doctor assured her she was too young to have breast cancer.

On her own iniatative she sought an opinion from a second surgeon, someone she knew professionally from her work in pharmaceutical sales. After examining the lump the surgeon said it was benign and nothing to worry about. The surgeon referred Wiseman back to a general practitioner who examined the lump and said no problem, it's benign.

Reassured by two general practitioners and two surgeons that she was too young to have breast cancer and that her lumps were harmless, Wiseman went back to work and tried not to worry. She continued to see her regular family doctor monthly because she had elevated blood pressure. On these visits she told the doctor the lump was getting bigger. It finally grew to the size of a dime. Although the doctor kept telling her there was nothing to worry about, Wiseman says her inner self told her there was something wrong. "I thought I was losing my mind because I knew this lump was growing and no one else seemed to think so."

In January, 1997, she was shocked when she felt a second lump in her left breast. This one was "flat and the size of a plum." A physician she knew recommended a general practitioner. In May, this physician, whom she'd never seen before, examined her, immediately set up an appointment for a mammogram and referred Wiseman to an oncologist, a cancer specialist. Her appointment with the oncologist was slated for October.

In August, 1997, Wiseman had a gall bladder attack and, in a remarkable conincidence, when she was taken to the hospital emergency unit the doctor on call was the oncologist she was scheduled to see in October. Ignoring the gall bladder she asked the doctor to look at the lumps in her breast. "I had a sixth sense," she says, "I knew there was something wrong."

Two weeks after gall bladder surgery the oncologist removed the lumps from her breast. The news, two weeks later, was devastating. Wiseman learned she had stage 1-2 infiltrating, lobular carcinoma, "a very nasty and aggressive cancer." Treatment would be radical mastectomy, followed by chemotherapy.

"I was in absolute shock," she says. "The first thing I thought was 'I'm going to die' and I knew I couldn't because I had two children and they needed me."

Walking out of the doctor's office the full impact of the words hit her and as she walked down the long hallway she began to sob.

"Tears were flowing down my face and I was thinking 'what will I do? how will I tell my parents and children?'"

In shock and disbelief Wiseman went to see a physician friend who she asked to call the oncologist and hear the diagnosis. When the telephone call confirmed her worst fears she broke down and wept. Wiseman, who's divorced and the mother of a son and a daughter, now had to go home and tell her family. First she told her partner of five years. Next she told her parents. When her parents found out she was scheduled for surgery in a week they insisted she move in with them. Wiseman says when she was telling her parents she had cancer she kept saying "I'm sorry."

"I felt so guilty," she says. "I felt like it was my fault."

When her children came home from school she told them separately that she had breast cancer. Their immediate reaction was "mommy, are you going to die?" Through all of this Wiseman says she was "screaming on the inside but trying to stay as calm as I could on the outside."

That night she and her children slept together and agreed they would battle the breast cancer as a team.

A week later Wiseman had a mastectomy.

"I remember waking up in the recovery room not believing my breast was gone and when I reached up there was so much bandage I didn't know ... the nurse said 'dear, he removed it.'"

Following surgery her doctor said there was good news and bad news. The good news was that there was no nodule involvement. The bad news was that the cancer had infiltrated her chest wall. Removal of some of the chest wall meant she wasn't a candidate for a breast implant. Before she left hospital the doctor insisted she look at her scar. It was so red and ugly it made her cry.

Over the next four months Wiseman had chemotherapy. She suffered terrible nausea and lost all her body hair. Twice she was hospitalized for complications. When the chemotherapy ended in February, 1998, she consulted with her doctor and elected to have a preventative, right breast mastectomy.

"It's a tragedy to lose your breast but it's not the end of the world," says Wiseman. She adds if you have to lose a breast to save your life remember to look at the positives. Be grateful you have your sight, that you can walk and talk. If losing your breast can save your life that's not too high a price to pay."

"Just because you've lost a breast you're no less a woman, no less a person, no less attractive. The most important thing is the rest of your life."

In the midst of her own personal battle with cancer Wiseman struggles to maintain an optimistic attitude.

"Self pity can be very crippling. You have a right to be sorry for yourself but you have to snap out of it. Fighting cancer is ongoing. If you get angry at the cancer that gives you the strength to fight it."

Trim and pretty in black slacks and a turtleneck and with her formerly blond hair grown back brown and curly, Wiseman looks great but she admits it takes effort. To ward off depression she thinks it's important that women recovering from breast cancer get up every day, put on their makeup, dress and go out for coffee.

"You have two choices," she says. "You can take the attitude you're going to fight cancer with all your energy or you can wallow in self pity. You need to take the attitude you have too much to do to die."

Something else Wiseman does every day was recommended to her by another cancer patient.

She said every day when you get up write down five things you're grateful for. Wiseman says doing that was hard at first but if you try you'll always find things to be grateful for. "Some days I write silly things like I'm glad it's warm today. One day when I woke and the birds were singing I wrote that I was glad to be alive."

She writes she's grateful for the love and support of her family and friends, and she admits she's grateful too for the support she gets from the staff at the Bliss Murphy Cancer Centre.

In the last year Wiseman has undergone a lot. She's had five surgeries: a gallbladder operation, a lumpectomy, two breast surgeries and just a month ago she had to have her appendix removed and been hospitalized twice for complications due to chemotherapy. As a result of her illness she had to move in with her parents and give up her job. Adding to her emotional turmoil was the departure of her partner of five years. He left, without explanation, two weeks after she was diagnosed with breast cancer.

Wiseman puts up a brave front but she admits she sometimes wakes up at 3 a.m. feeling scared and lonely. In those predawn hours she worries about dying.

Wiseman's daughter, Jillian, 14, says her mom is "the best." She's been amazing through all this," says Jillian, adding that even when her mom has been terribly ill she's always made an effort to keep the home environment as normal as possible.

When Wiseman was hospitalized for appendicitis Jillian said something Wiseman treasures.

Jillian said "you're the strongest person I know. I hope I will have one quarter of your strength when I grow up."

What Wiseman has found particularly tough is hearing what happened to her might have been avoided if action was taken earlier. She's since asked and been told by physicians that if her lump had been removed right away, in 1995, she might have avoided a mastectomy.

Hard to take too have been reading copies of her charts from the physicians who saw her in 1995. In one report a doctor says, "I have strongly reassured Kathleen that these are benign breast changes. I recognize her strong concern because of her family history but I think that a biopsy would be rather frivolous at this point in time."

Thinking that what happened could have been prevented is almost too painful to bear.

Now faced with an uncertain future "the doctors say there's a good chance of survival if cancer doesn't recur in five years." Wiseman says she is relying on an inner strength she never knew she had to get her through.

Her advice to other women, "Educate yourself about breast cancer. Know your body. Follow your gut instincts and listen to your inner voice. Don't be afraid to get a second opinion. Take control of your health. If you have a lump it's scary but early detection is the most important thing. Early detection means the rest of your life," she says. Don't be accepting, if you feel there's something wrong, look for answers.