I will survive: A woman's story
October 5th 2008 23:43
(A tribute to Breast Cancer Awareness month, written by a relative about her experience)
I thought I was doing the right thing. Every year I would book a mammogram, and nervously waiting for the result. ``Phew, passed this mammogram, I am safe,’’ I would think afterwards. I had no need to worry, because I had no family history of the disease.
Then in 2005, I found a strange lump on my collarbone. I went to my GP, who ordered a scan just to make sure. Two days later, I was told the bad news: ``It’s secondary cancer. We have to find the primary.’’
I was shocked. What about all those scans? Wasn’t I careful enough?
Mammograms can’t detect cancers in 14 per cent of women and I was unlucky enough to be part of that group.
I was given an appointment with an oncologist – who came in on a Sunday morning to see me – and he found the primary cancer. It was in my left breast, 4cm wide.
I was put on chemo for three months to shrink the cancer. I went to see a surgeon, who recommended I have surgery to remove the breast, followed by radiation therapy and three more months of chemo.
The journey was long. I lost my hair twice. My skin was red raw. I was sick and weak, and my joints ached. But I was going to be well, to beat this.
I had to learn to tie scarves around my head, making sure they were bright and cheerful. My grandkids loved them, although they were puzzled at Nanny’s bald skull at first. I went to makeup classes at the Wesley – there’s no need for something like an illness to make you feel less beautiful. I learned where to buy special bras, and decided against breast reconstruction. It was gone, and that was fine with me.
The wonderful support and prayers from my husband, family, friends, doctors and nursing staff helped me carry my burden.
I still have to have different types of scans every six months, and it is reassuring to know I am being looked after by the breast surgeon and oncologist. Medication is my constant companion, too.
So far, so good. I’m back to my old self again. I just want everyone to know that there is life after breast cancer, if it is detected early enough.
I thought I was doing the right thing. Every year I would book a mammogram, and nervously waiting for the result. ``Phew, passed this mammogram, I am safe,’’ I would think afterwards. I had no need to worry, because I had no family history of the disease.
Then in 2005, I found a strange lump on my collarbone. I went to my GP, who ordered a scan just to make sure. Two days later, I was told the bad news: ``It’s secondary cancer. We have to find the primary.’’
I was shocked. What about all those scans? Wasn’t I careful enough?
I was given an appointment with an oncologist – who came in on a Sunday morning to see me – and he found the primary cancer. It was in my left breast, 4cm wide.
I was put on chemo for three months to shrink the cancer. I went to see a surgeon, who recommended I have surgery to remove the breast, followed by radiation therapy and three more months of chemo.
The journey was long. I lost my hair twice. My skin was red raw. I was sick and weak, and my joints ached. But I was going to be well, to beat this.
I had to learn to tie scarves around my head, making sure they were bright and cheerful. My grandkids loved them, although they were puzzled at Nanny’s bald skull at first. I went to makeup classes at the Wesley – there’s no need for something like an illness to make you feel less beautiful. I learned where to buy special bras, and decided against breast reconstruction. It was gone, and that was fine with me.
The wonderful support and prayers from my husband, family, friends, doctors and nursing staff helped me carry my burden.
So far, so good. I’m back to my old self again. I just want everyone to know that there is life after breast cancer, if it is detected early enough.
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