When TV star Julia Bradbury walked the red carpet at the National Television Awards earlier this month, she chose a silver off-the-shoulder jumpsuit cut dramatically across her chest. It was a heartbreaking, valedictory act - 'a kind of goodbye to the body I've been living in all these years'.
For the mother of three and primetime presenter of Countryfile, Watchdog and Britain's Best Walks, today reveals that she has breast cancer and will face a mastectomy next month.
'It changes your world forever in an instant,' says Julia, 51. 'There is no preparing you for those words. You hear 'cancer' and your brain starts to explode.
'The cruel thing about human beings is that we are the only creatures on the planet who know we are going to die. We all live in hope of a peaceful end in our beds, having had children and grandchildren, or having fulfilled whatever mission in life we choose. But the word cancer is so ugly it makes you think of the most unimaginably horrible death. That's the reality of it.
We've got you: Julia with children Zeph, ten, and twins Zena and Xanthe, six, on the day last week she told them of her diagnosis
'It is arbitrary and unfair. I have to hope I have caught mine early enough. A mastectomy is a shattering thing to go through but it means that I am going to live and be here for my children.
'Cancer has so many points, the diagnosis seems like everything, but it isn't. It puts you on a pathway and you have to navigate that while holding back your emotions so you are not overwhelmed all the time. Right now I'm simply focused on having surgery because I don't know how I am going to be, if I will have more cancer to deal with, how I will cope with recovery, how life will feel afterwards.'
On the day we spend together, Julia gives a bravura performance punctuated by tears and mugs of green tea, since she is avoiding coffee and cocoa. 'It's easy to decline when you look at something and think 'my cancer could feed off that,' she says, unconsciously touching her chest.
She looks her usual, athletically glamorous self and it is hard to reconcile a woman whose personal brand is so rooted in outdoorsy wellness and exercise with such serious illness. Yet early in October she will have her left breast with its six centimetre tumour removed. Surgeons will also take tissue from her lymph nodes to establish whether or not the disease has spread.
Even as she comes to terms with this deeply personal diagnosis, it's clear her experience will impact on other women. She is proof they must be hyper-vigilant in regards to their breasts and face up to their fears if they see signs of change. And it is clear too, that all the dynamism and positive energy Julia pours into her environmental campaigning will now also be unleashed in Britain's breast cancer fight.
It's not an ambassadorial role any woman would seek, but she hopes that by speaking candidly about what is happening to her, she may save a stranger's life. 'My plan,' she says, 'is to come through it and out the other side and I hope to be able to do that bravely enough so that women who are scared to get tested, to get a diagnosis, go ahead. I want to be able to give them a wave and say 'Look, it's horrible, but you can do it too.' '
The mother of three and primetime presenter of Countryfile, Watchdog and Britain's Best Walks, today reveals that she has breast cancer and will face a mastectomy next month
Back in July, 'book a mammogram' was just one of many entries on her to-do list. Julia was on an annual recall having found a breast lump which proved to be a cluster of benign micro-cysts last year.
She secured an appointment before she went on holiday with her partner Gerard, and their three children, son Zeph, ten, and twin daughters Zena and Xanthe, six, in August. Her follow-up with the consultant was scheduled for this month. She almost didn't go, as the July scan, which included an ultra sound and a physical examination, had given no cause for alarm. It was her big sister Gina who insisted she kept the appointment.
'I was with the consultant and we were having a nice chat about life and holidays and then I hopped on the table and he did another ultrasound and suddenly he paused and looked at the screen and made a noise.'
What kind of noise? 'He exhaled. And I knew. He said, 'I am not happy with that, there is a tiny shadow, can you see it?' '
She could. A tiny dark pinprick in her breast. Yet she could not compute that it might be cancer. Julia knows the disease is the great equaliser, that no one is immune, but her rational, reasonable self knew she'd only just been screened and examined and everything had appeared fine. Within minutes she was marching the three blocks back to the mammogram unit where she also climbed the stairs instead of taking the lift. 'Because that's me, isn't it?' she half-cries, half-laughs. And then she starts to cry properly as she remembers the speed with which her safe and happy life was wrenched from her. 'Suddenly I was lying down on my side with my back braced against a pillow having a machine like a hole punch taking lumps out of my breast.'
BRAVE FACE: Julia at the TV awards in the outfit that said 'goodbye to the body I've been living in'
It was the first of what would be many biopsies and her instinctive response was an almost animal urge to see her children. 'They were all I could think about. I lay there longing for them, thinking, 'No. No. Just no.' '
She waited for the results over one agonisingly long weekend. She recalls having a shower and looking in the mirror. 'I was holding my breasts and thinking I like my boobs, I don't want anything to happen to them. I thought my odds were 50/50. I felt I was fit and healthy, I hoped my body was standing up to life. Then the statistics start flying around your head, one in eight women get breast cancer, the danger zone is between 50 and 75, you can't help thinking that, it's only human.'
Gina and Gerard knew of her biopsy – conducted early thanks to private healthcare – but she told no one else. 'I'm the kind of person who deals with stuff internally. I wanted to wait it out and process the information before sharing it.'
She decided the call from her consultant telling her the result would be best taken in her own home.
'I knew it was going to be the most significant call of my life and I wanted to be on my own, I wanted to write down what he told me. Around that date I was filming in a beautiful woodland, in a harness, 70ft above the ground. That wasn't the right environment. And I am glad I scheduled it for home, because he spoke the words no one wants to hear, ever. 'High grade. Sizeable tumour. Six centimetres [just over 2in]. Could be trouble to treat in terms of the area.' '
Julia was so shocked she still can't remember what she did in the hours immediately afterwards.
Today, as she prepares for her mastectomy, she is clinging to the 'positives' which she trusts will give her a successful outcome. Doctors believe the cancer cells are currently confined to her milk ducts and have not yet spread to the breast tissue. This means that, despite the significant size of the tumour, she may not need chemotherapy.
Additionally, she may be able to keep her nipple and she is unlikely to need a skin graft to complete her reconstructive surgery. 'It is quite good on the scale on cancers,' she says bravely. 'But as with all tumours, until you are in there you never know.' She will face a week's wait post-surgery for the result of the tests on her lymph nodes to come back, another phone call which will dictate the course of the months and years to come.
Her life these last three weeks has already been a blur of medical procedures, more biopsies, an MRI scan, having little titanium balls inserted in her breast to mark the tumour field and learning about the silicone implant which will be used to rebuild her chest. She is doing exercises to strengthen the muscles in her chest wall and is about to see a specialist mastectomy counsellor to help her come to terms psychologically with the procedure.
'Ultimately, if a mastectomy helps you repair then it is a good thing. But it does feel like losing a part of you, part of your sexual identity and part of your experience of motherhood. I breast-fed my babies from that boob and when I look down I picture my twins and Zeph before them on it. That hurts.'
Tougher even than dealing with the prospect of surgery, has been
