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While
in outpatients waiting for my surgeon I discovered a small lump
in my right breast, which I mentioned to him on his arrival. He
decided it had to be removed immediately and made the appointment
for surgery with in 2 days. In hospital, fear started to rise in
side inside me but I kept it to myself by putting on false face
and kept this up until I found the biopsy results were all clear.
About two and a half months later I became sore in the same breast
and after checking myself I found two more lumps. Frozen to the
spot wild thoughts starting racing through my mind, especially fear
of the un-known and that dreaded word Cancer. A trip to my surgeon
confirmed my suspicions and this time he decided on a course of
tablets to see if the lumps would dissolve
Five months later I went back to the operating theatre to have,
by this time, a mass of lumps removed. My surgeon was quite confident
that all was well (I tried desperately to shut my fears out of my
mind as this was a bad dream that I would wake up from) and when
he told me they were benign tumors I was elated.
Once at home I was tempted to phone my parents advising them of
my two operations but after giving it some thought, decided against
it as they had enough to contend with. You see my younger sister
was dying of secondary breast cancer and they had enough to cope
with, without my problems.
After the operation I had to contend with an infection and my wound
was very slow in healing so over the next few months I was having
regular check ups. At last he decided I could go three months before
my next visit but unfortunately two months later I was sitting in
this room I had become to know so well. I knew the routine backwards
by this time but again I had to have another mammogram (this time
nothing showed up but my Surgeon and I knew the lumps were there;
it was quite surprising actually because all the advertising tells
you, you must have a mammogram if you have lumps, yet this failed
to show my lumps.) more tests and more tablets. I was becoming quite
distraught at the amount of tablets I was consuming because deep
down I knew they would put off the inevitable. I kept my fears to
myself and didn’t confide in my doctor, looking back I realize
how foolish that was.
Fourteen months later I was back in this all too familiar office
discussing the inevitable… a mastectomy. For awhile I was too
shocked to speak, then I started asking him “Why” “Why
Me?” Why has it happened to me; we all ask our doctor the same
question. He knew of my frustrations and anger but very gently and
straight to the point he told me the important facts that I had
to consider: which were – my two previous lumpectomies, my
age factor (as if we like having our age pointed out to us) and
the most important factor was my family history.
My fathers’ two sisters, mum’s Aunty and my baby sister
all had mastectomy’s to the right breast, my Aunty and sister
had turned terminal and had passed away a few months earlier and
now it was my turn to face a mastectomy to my right breast. Cancer
was not uncommon in our family and my mothers brother had been fighting
prostrate cancer for a few years and finally passed away. To me
it seemed rather a strange coincidence on my fathers side the women
had had mastectomies) I asked for a little time before giving my
answer as I had a lot to consider.
Looking back over the previous two years, the trauma of watching
my sister, when I went home to spend time with her, my two previous
operations, so many questions went through my mind. I had quite
a few sleepless nights and became very bitchy to those who were
quite close to me. Deep down I was looking for a way out because
I had to make a decision, I felt trapped and my time was running
out.
The day came for me to return to my surgeon and my then partner
came with me as we both had question that needed answers. Unfortunately
my surgeon couldn’t give me the guarantees I was looking for
which was totally unfair of me because I expected too much from
him. After a few minutes I told him I would have the operation on
the condition I was given special leave to attend my eldest son’s
wedding which was 5 days after my surgery. I had previously discussed
the operation with my partner and youngest daughter but they didn’t
know I was contemplating special leave to attend the wedding. My
surgeon tried to advise me against the wedding but that was my deal
and he agreed.
My parents arrived from Melbourne the day I was admitted to hospital,
these distraught people had fear written all over their faces, tried
to put on a happy front for me. It was only ten days away to the
first anniversary of my baby sisters death and here were my parents
(whom I loved so much, yet rarely told them) so worried it was going
to happen again. At least this time I had the comfort of knowing
they would be with me where as before I couldn’t include them.
On the eve of my operation I wrote a poem about the loss of my
breast, after a sleepless night I was looking for reassurance and
I was scared stiff but kept this to myself. I awoke that afternoon
as felt a weight had been lifted from my mind, the cloud that had
shadowed my life the past two years had been lifted and I knew deep
in my heart the results would be good news. I recovered in leaps
and bounds and my spirits were high. My surgeon up held his promise
and let me attend my sons wedding. After the biopsy results came
back all clear my parents returned to Melbourne, they, like me were
relieved and for the first time in my life I had finally made a
right decision.
Two weeks after the operation my wound broke open and for the next
three and a half months the healing process was very slow but I
didn’t let this dampen my spirits. I kept thinking positive
thoughts and got on with living and thankful for each day. At times
it was very difficult and I didn’t mourn for the loss of my
breast. I did it in a different way by putting pen to paper expressing
my inner feelings. A few months later it caught up with me and I
went mental at everyone and everything around me. A few days later
I felt better, my mourning period over and nature taking its own
course I had no control over my emotions, if I had let it out earlier
instead of keeping it inside of me…who knows… we each
mourn in different ways and have to experience emotions before we
can pick up and start to live again.
About three weeks after my mastectomy I notice strange behavior
patterns in my partner but he dismissed this as my imagination but
I could feel a distance between us and he didn’t want to be
near or with me. This I didn’t need as I was feeling insecurities
within myself because I had lost a breast and I knew in my heart
his feelings had changed towards me. He was spending more time at
the pub and I had become his taxi driver.
About four months after my mastectomy I found lumps in my left
breast, I felt very drained and empty, words can’t express
how I felt at that moment. My thoughts went back to questions I
asked my surgeon before my first mastectomy, “If I have the
breast removed where would the lumps go? Would they start in my
left breast?” Not once in the two year period did I have signs
of lumps and now four moths after my removal I found lumps in my
left breast. I decided to visit my G.P. and seek advice from him
because I needed straight answers and I was very angry with the
world for being so cruel to me. I didn’t want to hear what
he had to say but he made me listen and I knew deep in my heart
he was right.
I left the doctors office distressed and not knowing where to go because
I knew I wouldn’t get the support from my partner who had totally
distanced himself from me and was spending more time at the pub seeking
sympathy from his mates because his woman had had a boob removed and
this warranted free beers. I had to do some soul searching before
I could return to his office because I knew it would be straight back
to my surgeon.
When I returned to my G.P. I apologized for my behavior and knew
I had only gone to him for guarantees when deep down I knew he couldn’t
give me what I asked for. Again he gave me straight talk and answers
and didn’t beat around the bush. I told him I tried to imagine
what it would be like with my left breast gone as my body looked
ugly and mutilated in my eyes and the fact, my partner couldn’t
stand to look at me. We had moved into separate rooms about six
weeks after my first operation. My doctor tried to assure me it
would be easier to adjust once the other breast was removed, I broke
down and confessed my fears to him
I decided to go to Melbourne and discuss this with my parents but
fate stepped in and my father was in hospital for a growth removal
and an exploratory of his lung. I decided against involving them
again. I thought my problem was only minor compared to what my parents
were going through. My father was unbearable because he was scared
but had people around him who loved him. Then it suddenly hit me
I had been no different at home to those who loved me, I had seen
so selfish and too concerned over my problems and had shut them
out and had become unbearable. I decided to put myself in the hands
of my surgeon who has been through so much with me over the past
12 years. I returned home with New Hope in my heart.
Five months after my first mastectomy I had my second one and thankfully
the results came back begin. My parents were advised three days
after the operation and weren’t happy about not being told
but I let my mum know she had enough problems and I would survive.
My relationship with my partner dwindled after my return home and
after a few months I asked him leave because he couldn’t handle
his woman having no boobs and did tell me when he had had one too
many he was a boobs man and would never change. He put demands on
me if I wanted a sexual relationship. He was too selfish to realize
I had my own problems adjusting to looking in a mirror and seeing
myself with out breasts without being pressured into his demands.
He was the person seeking sympathy because of my operations and
others fell for it. We parted company about twelve months later.
Unfortunately there are men who can not handle these types of situations
but men must remember they are susceptible to breast cancer as well
as women. Sadly many men think they are invincible and it’s
only a women’s thing and they do not check their breast for
lumps. I feel the breast cancer adverts should include men in them,
its not a Common occurrence in men but there a few who have had mastectomies.
After my treatment from my former partner I thought I would never
have a relationship again because of my hang ups inflicted by my
previous partner but a wonderful man came into my life eight years
ago and we have been happily married for seven years. He has looked
after me and is slowly erasing my memories of the painful past inflicted
by my former partner.
When one door closes another opens and Reg walked into my life.
About eighteen months after my second mastectomy I had the left
lymph glands removed and from this my surgeon seen to think my Reflex
Sympathetic Dystrophy stemmed and if it were not for Reg I possibly
would never have been diagnosed because my doctor told me for twelve
months I was a wardrobe drinker until he went to the doctor with
me and demanded answers.
I was lucky to have a second chance at life and I have a wonderful
caring man to look after me.Reg sees me for what I am and not what
I have, he even nursed me through a nervous breakdown caused by
my operations and total rejection by my previous partner. Looking
back I can recall some funny events that happened particularly when
I had to go for a means test to obtain my free boob. Some people
would comment about my free boob but I would always reply at least
I could put my boob in its box and put it under the bed for the
night.
After the second operation I chose not to go back for my means
test to obtain my second free boob. I decided what you see is what
you get and to this day I live by that rule and have not had to
buy a bra for the past 11 years. I don’t think I would have
accepted this attitude with out Reg being by my side.
It is with much sadness my Aunty, who had been in remission for
four years passed away a few months ago and my father’s niece
is in secondary stages from a mastectomy she had about eighteen
months ago. Who am I to question “Why ME”? I am thankful
for each and every day I wake up
Judith Cesari-White
Rockhampton
Queensland
15th October, 1999
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