World Cancer Day: My emotional journal of hiding the burden and being at peace

THIS will be my third year, nodding at World Cancer Day, after having been diagnosed with Stage 1 breast cancer in early 2019. 

I do not know if my reaction to my cancer diagnosis was typical – perhaps I was in some state of shock at the time – but upon receiving the diagnosis, my first words were, “When can we get it out? Is Thursday good for you?”

I didn’t realise it at the time, but that confirmation came as a huge relief. Yes – relief. Stage 1. I had caught it early.

I was all business and completely pragmatic – I was an automaton. I had my family and elderly parents to think about and didn’t want them to worry.

So I didn’t tell them. 

I had undergone a biopsy the week before after having discovered a lump in my left breast and consulting with my breast care specialist. The 7 days it took to get those results back were more excruciating than the actual confirmation of cancer. 

In those 7 days, I went from denial (this stuff happens to other people), to morbidness (would a death by cancer or chemo be more preferable), to outright panic (what will happen to the children if I die – I can’t die!), and yes, there were some ridiculous thoughts as well (I’m way too chubby to rock a shaved-head!).

Looking back on that time, I wonder if my stoicism was a selfish thing. Did I want to keep this to myself because I wanted to protect my loved ones from worry, or did I do this so I didn’t have to worry about them, worrying about me as I underwent surgery and treatment? 

Was this a normal response to cancer? What is normal in the whole scheme of things with regards to a cancer diagnosis? Was I internalising my issues again, as I have with most things that I have experienced in my life – which was what probably gave me cancer in the first place? Why am I like this? 

Even then, I wasn’t without support

I shared this news with my four siblings, my two closest friends, and my boss, who were all concerned and very supportive. I knew that whomever I shared this news with would be more than willing to offer me any and all the emotional, social and practical support I could need. I could not, however, bring myself to tell my own children and my parents until after the surgery to remove both tumours. 

So I recovered alone (and quite peacefully) in my hospital room, being visited only by various members of Breast Cancer Welfare Association Malaysia (BCWAM) who brought with them a party pack which included two postoperative vests, a stress ball, brochures and an exercise chart for getting that arm and side functioning normally again – and my friend Sam Sia, in whom I had confided and who had gone through the entire cancer ordeal herself a few years earlier. 

All of my visitors had invaluable advice for me. I don’t remember hearing any of it.

My sister Heidi came with her husband bearing homemade soup, bread, and a basket of goodies for my convalescence. I noticed my appetite was not remotely affected by my ordeal. 

In those quiet days of contemplation, I had a lot of time to process what I had just gone through. And whilst my fresh scars were real enough, the rest of it was like a dream – that was happening to someone else. 

I wasn’t upset. I wasn’t afraid. I wasn’t even sure exactly what I was supposed to be feeling. I remember thinking if I were with three of my girlfriends, I was taking one for the team. 1 in 4 Malaysian women, according to Cancer Research Malaysia, are affected by breast cancer. I was now a statistic.

But I didn’t want to be just a statistic. I wanted to be a poster girl – for early detection. Having interviewed so many cancer survivors in the last two decades, I knew well enough how and when to do my self examinations every month. I was diligent. 

I noticed everything that was going on with my body. And while I hadn’t ever quite snapped back to my pre-pregnancy state of 2004, I know when a lump is last week’s nasi kandar or something to be more concerned about.

Everyone who goes through this journey will have their own experiences – that goes without saying. We manage the best we can, and for me, managing myself meant laughing it off and getting back to my normal life of family, friends, and work as quickly as possible. 

Even as I was undergoing rounds and rounds of radiation, I was doing this parallel with a demanding job that required me up at 4am every weekday morning. I was, as always, upbeat if a little bit more exhausted as the months went on.

And in that time, I almost forgot I was still technically a recovering patient. I deflected invitations to join cancer organisations, events, talks and even a dragon boat racing team. I was getting on with my life. I could get all the information I needed online, from books, or from my doctors. I didn’t have the time or the inclination to be a part of some other thing that I couldn’t identify with. Like cancer.

It took about 10 months of this kind of mind, body and emotional denial of my state to really kick in, and kick in hard. I was mentally burned out, physically exhausted, and emotionally an empty husk. 

I remember driving home from work one day thinking, enough. I can’t keep doing this. Something’s got to give. 

I decided then and there that I wasn’t going to renew my work contract, that I was taking a mental health break, and coming back stronger and fully in my body. I needed rest, and I needed to come back to me. 

The dissociation had gone on for far too long, and life, as we can sometimes take for granted, can be short.

For most cancer patients and survivors, we need our family and friends and a community of like-minded folk who understand. I have always had that, but I wanted to not trouble or burden anyone. I was strong and self sufficient. But I needn’t have been. My tribe was always there.

This World Cancer Day, I reflect on how I was and why I was like that, with no judgement. Everyone will have their own way to cope with life changing events such as these. 

For me it was throwing myself fully into work to get that sense of normalcy. I just know that moving forward, I will be kinder to myself and accepting of all the love and support that has always been there for me. – The Vibes, February 4, 2021