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A good read. Pass to ladies. [h=1]A close brush[/h][h=2]By SALMAH MOHD YUNUS ZYLLWYN-STEWART[/h] A wake-up call prompts one woman to reassess her priorities, and reinforces her faith in her femininity. TEN years ago, if anyone were to tell me that I would have breast cancer, I’d probably have just shrugged it off with a laugh. From what I had read then, several factors put a woman at a higher risk of getting the disease – incidence of cancer in her immediate family, early menses, late menopause, smoking, being overweight and not having any children. None of my family members had cancer; I had my menses late (later than all my friends) and menopaused early, at 44 (horror of horrors!). I don’t smoke, am not overweight and have four children. Besides, I breastfed them for about two years each – all of which made me feel I was practically immune. How very wrong I was! I discovered that I had breast cancer by a stroke of luck, but I prefer to think of it as a miracle. There I was standing stark naked in front of the bathroom mirror, something I did all the time. And like a lot of women, all I saw were imperfections – my breasts were too small, my tummy was too big, there was flesh where it was not meant to be. That particular day, one of the three lights in the bathroom had fused. As a result, the remaining two cast their rays at an angle on my body. There appeared to be a small shadow on my left breast, suggesting a slight bump. I touched the spot but could not feel anything; neither could my husband when I asked him to later. But the shadow convinced me there was something there. I decided to trust my instincts and went to the doctor the very next day. She could not detect anything from the breast examination but did an ultrasound, on my insistence. It showed there was indeed a lump. The doctor said it would not have easily been detected had my breast been bigger. For the first time in my life, I was grateful to have small breasts. I was advised to go for a mammogram as my last one was about a year earlier. I decided to see a reknowned breast surgeon who suggested that I remove the lump. But she could only schedule me for surgery one-and-a-half months later. Back home, I started to feel insecure. What if it’s something more than just a lump? The more I thought about it, the more I worried, although at the back of my mind, cancer was still a remote possibility. The next day, I phoned the doctor and pleaded with her to operate on me earlier. She looked at her timetable again and said there was a slot two weeks from that day because someone had rescheduled her operation. Another miracle! The day before the surgery, I did a mammogram. The radiologist reported that the lump appeared “highly suspicious”. When my doctor saw the mammogram film she said, “It doesn’t look good.” I felt a chill run down my spine. The lump was successfully removed the next day and I was told to wait a week for the biopsy results. That was the longest week of my life and my emotions were like a roller coaster. The doctors’ words haunted me and I often cried at the thought that it might be cancer. To me, the disease spelt death and I was too young to die – my children still needed me. At other moments I told myself, “Nah, it can’t be. Other people get cancer, not me.” I remember vividly the day I went back for the result of the biopsy. It was a day that would change my whole life forever. When my name was called, my husband asked whether he should go in with me. I said no, I wanted to do it alone. If there was a decision to be made, I did not want anybody to influence me. Lying on the examination bed while waiting for the doctor to be ready was the most harrowing experience in my life. My hands and feet were cold, and I was literally shivering with fear. My heart was pounding so hard I felt like I was going to have a heart attack. At that point, there was only one thing to do. I turned to God and prayed like I had never prayed before. I said: “God, whatever You have decided for me, I have faith that You have Your reasons. I submit myself to You completely. All I ask is that You give me the strength and courage to face it and fight it.” Peace came to me immediately after that. I stopped trembling and was not afraid anymore. So when the doctor said, “Salmah, I have bad news for you, it’s confirmed cancer,” I was calm. I said, “What do we do next?” I was told there was evidence of DCIS (ductal carcinoma in situ), meaning my milk ducts showed signs of cancer. One alternative was to remove a bigger portion of the breast surrounding the lump that had been removed; the other was mastectomy. As my breast was small I didn’t see the point of the former as not much would be left behind. So I decided on the latter. The doctor asked when I wanted it done. She even suggested that I visit my son in Australia first because she knew I was supposed to make that trip. I said, “No, let’s do it as soon as possible. I have this ‘parasite’ inside me and I wanted to get rid of it right away.” She asked whether I wanted to consult my husband. I told her it was not necessary; it’s my body after all and I was sure he would understand and would still love me with or without a breast. To me, a breast is just an accessory; I would rather lose it than risk losing my life. She commented that she’d never come across someone as decisive as me. I guess my prayer had been answered and I had found the strength to face the situation. Again, her schedule was packed for the next two months, but a third miracle happened. A slot opened up when a patient changed her surgery date. I remember waking up after the operation and touching the spot where my left breast used to be and feeling the bandage. I did not feel any sense of loss; instead I felt relieved. When the bandage was removed a few days later, I stood in front of the mirror staring at my new body. I told myself: “This is the new me, accept it. I am just different on the outside, that’s all. Inside I am still the same person.” Later, my doctor asked if I’d thought about reconstructive surgery because a lot of women have issues with the loss of self-esteem and confidence. They feel less of a woman and less sensual without a breast. To me, feminity is about how you behave as a woman and sensuality is an attitude and that special something that exudes from within. I may be without a breast but I don’t feel that I have lost my femininity and womanhood. Further tests showed the Stage 1 cancer had not spread to my lymph nodes. I was also oestrogen positive, which provided an avenue for treatment through hormonal therapy. Both the surgeon and oncologist decided that I did not need any radiotheraphy or chemotherapy, which was a huge relief . I am blessed because I detected the cancer early, I reacted immediately and had it treated quickly. Along the way there were small miracles that helped me deal with the situation. My cancer was also a wake-up call to reassess my life and put things in perspective. I thought that I had a balanced life, but it made me realise there had been areas that I had neglected, like my spiritual side. Also, the small things that used to bother me have become less significant. I now focus on bigger issues. My advice to all healthy women is, don’t take your health for granted. Eating healthy meals, having enough sleep, keeping your weight at a healthy level and excercising regularly and learning to de-stress are not just cliches. Understand your body and look out for any changes. Listen to your instincts – you know your body better than anybody else – and go for regular check-ups. For those who have been diagnosed with cancer, I would say, accept it and move on with life. Be positive and focus on the good things in your life. Keep your spirits up because when your spirit is strong, your body will be strong. Ultimately, it’s que sera sera. http://thestar.com.my/lifestyle/story.asp?file=%2F2012%2F5%2F9%2Flifefocus%2F11237509&sec=lifefocus#.T6nKl8vINBU.facebook
