October is breast cancer awareness month, and I celebrate with the women who have fought and overcome this disease. However, three years after my personal encounter, I still can’t help but feel a bit overwhelmed during this month.
I was a reporter at the Jamaica Gleaner, and that morning in April 2016, I was covering the fashion for the opening of parliament. Approximately three weeks before I had done a lumpectomy for a benign lump. So when my phone kept ringing from an “anonymous” number, I thought it was nothing. I remember handing the phone to my male coworker to put in his pocket as the constant vibration in my hand was irritating.
The Call
After covering my assignment. I started walking to work. There were several missed calls from “anonymous” and my mother. I returned the call to my mother, and she told me that my doctor Dr Sharmaine Mitchell (a phenomenal woman) had called her and I needed to return the call. When I asked why she said to me that they had refused to tell her. They contacted her as my next of kin but could not give her details as to why they were looking for me.
I called Dr Mitchell, and she answered with the most gentle tone, “Hi Jody.”
I responded, “Hi, Dr Mitchell. You were trying to reach me?”
“Yes, can you please come in today.” Knowing full well that I had just finished my assignment and that she closed in approximately an hour, I told her, “I don’t think I will reach before your office is closed.”
She then told me she would wait. My heart sunk. I discovered the lump at 18 years old, I did several ultrasounds it was benign. So what is the problem?
I entered her office, and it was empty. Something I have never seen. It was always filled to capacity, but I arrived there over an hour after it should have closed. She asked me to sit.
DCIS
“Hi Jody, we already knew that the lump was benign. The surgery went well,” in my head, I felt relief. I started to wonder why then am I here, but she continued. “But we found a tissue, near to the lump. We have found DCIS.”
“DCIS?” I said. It was the first time I had ever heard that term.
“Yes, Ductal carcinoma in situ, ” She explained that this was actually early-stage breast cancer. Cancer before it reached stage one. The oncologist would have to explain this to me once more. I sat there in shock – emotionless and she, in fact, had to ask me if I had heard her and I responded, “yes. I am fine.”
Then my mom called.
Explaining to my mother the news I had just heard was what broke me. I was hysterical. Dr Mitchell asked if it was OK to give me a hug and I said yes and I cried. .
I did a second surgery that took a considerable chunk out of my moderately sized right breast. I thought I handled it the best way I could. But admittedly it took sometime before I could look at myself in the mirror without a bra. I got over that.
Breast Cancer Awareness Month
But every October, I am stuck between feeling overwhelmed and guilty. Early this year part of me wondered if the cancer was back because I was feeling so much pain, it was almost unbearable.
Then the memories of 2016 flood in…
One specialist commenting on insecurities of my body that was due to my PCOS. Going to a particular hospital and be ignored for hours. It was enough knowing that you have this illness and suddenly having your mortality feeling more present than it has ever been. But having some medical professionals treating you like a casualty made you feel even more disposable.
Then there is the guilt of feeling these emotions rushing in because I never had to do chemo. Well, it was recommended, but I opted not to because of the before mentioned issues I had. I could not go through with it, and at least I had a choice. It was not a necessity. Many women who face breast cancer do not have that choice. They did not catch it before it got to a stage. So they had to lose their hair, their taste-buds and even their entire breast or both.
Moving on!
I had to accept that even though, there are women out there that experienced a far greater pain, it does not make my journey any less emotional. So every breast cancer awareness month, I should not feel less worthy of celebrating. I have overcome the emotionally challenging ordeal, the doctor and nurses that have seen so many patients that they have lost sensitivity, which made the ordeal that more emotionally heart-wrenching. Then there is the physical reminder that goes beyond the scar or the fact that my breasts don’t match, but the physical pain that I still feel even three years later that tells me I am not invincible.
But I am a survivor. Stronger than I thought I was. And if this illness taught me nothing, it taught me that I had a great family and an impressive group of friends. And without my excellent support system, I could not possibly make it this far. XOXO
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