The Moment I Heard “Cancer”

It was 4:30pm on Thursday the 2nd of May in 2019. I was grabbing a trolley at the Checkers down the road from the office to buy a few things before heading home. My phone rang. I recognised the phone number. Sure enough, it was my gynae.

After the initial awkward hellos (he's very Afrikaans and for some reason it makes me more American sounding, which inevitably makes him more nervous to speak English) he says, “I don't know why you went and had the tests because we checked in February and you were fine, but anyway you have cancer.”

He was right. We did check in February and there was nothing. Suddenly, a couple of weeks into April, there was a lump. But he also delivered the news like I wasn't a person and undermined him by going to do the testing myself.

“OK,” My go-to in any traumatic situation is to fix things. I ignore his insensitive delivery. “What do we do now?”

He tells me about a surgeon he'll send me a referral for, it's gotta come out, and then it's done. Cool, we've got a plan.

The word Cancer hadn't quite landed yet, so I did what any over-traumatised person does — I finished my shopping. Occasionally, I would shake my head and think, “Well, this escalated quickly.” When I found the lump one evening lying on my bed watching something on my laptop, I immediately messaged my older sister in the US. “So, I found this lump, it definitely wasn't there in Feb, what do I do now?” A few short weeks later, we were using this new word.

Life Was Already Lifing

My situation was pretty dire at the time. I had started a new job that January, earning a pathetic salary. I took the job because I needed to get back into the corporate world. It was a complete restart at the age of 40 (turning 41 a month later). I found myself homeless at the end of March (a story for another day), and ended up living with a friend, in her son's old bedroom. It was thankfully 2kms away from the office, I didn't spend a lot of money on fuel but certainly was not in any position to afford a medical aid, never mind cancer.

Yet, off I went to have a mammogram. It's supposed to be on referral from a doctor, but I explained that I couldn't afford to pay the gynae to get a referral and then the mammogram and then again the gynae to give me results. I needed this done. The mammogram came back to say yes, there was indeed a lump, but it's the typical lump they find that usually is nothing and that in six months I should come again, and they'll check if anything has changed. With my sister on WhatsApp the whole time, we insisted on a biopsy then and there. All of this was paid in cash at a private hospital. That's why my gynae phoned me so unceremoniously to give me the results — to spare me additional costs.

Sharing the News

Anyway, my shopping included my favourite strawberry infused tequila at the time. (Sadly, the distillery stopped making it later that year, but it served me well while it lasted.) As my friend arrived home from work, I met her in the kitchen with shot glasses ready and said, let's drink!

“Does this mean we have good news?” she asked so hopefully, I wished I could have given her that.
“Nope,” I said, cheersing her glass, “But we're gonna drink anyway.”
Her face fell, we drank, she hugged me. “What did they say?”
I said, "It's cancer," and I gave her the summary plus all the technical jargon the gynae sent me on email.
“Did you look it up?” she asked.
“Yes,” I answered, and my dark humour couldn't help adding, “It said I have cancer.”

I was laughing, she was crying, we had more tequila, but somehow I still didn't believe I had cancer.

The Chaos of Emotions

When you've lived a life of trauma, from abandonment to abuse, you're desensitised to a degree. It's like “ah ok, so we're dealing with cancer now” and you go about your day. It's like watching yourself and not really being the one it's happening to. Mostly I was annoyed. Seriously? After everything life recently threw at me (not to mention my childhood and terrible marriage), cancer too? New job, no home, no medical aid. I was convinced the universe was using me to put new guardian angels through their final exam.

There was also fear. Plenty of it around the uncertain steps forward, but mostly about money. In South Africa, the government facilities are known for being badly managed and back-logged. It could take months before I can be seen through their systems. What if it spreads by then? It's difficult to make the right medical decisions when you have to think about the cost first.

Ironically, the hardest emotions for me to deal with were not my own. Telling people, "I have cancer" means they have to deal with it too. Often I found myself comforting them instead. I don't think we do this intentionally, but those around us also need to process the news.

When Survival Mode Takes Over

Suddenly, you are asked a million questions by everyone around you as if you're an expert on cancer. It's overwhelming trying to figure out what to do, whom to call, where to go, how to get in front of the right people. My gynae said, “this surgeon” he knows is the best bet, so let's go with it. He (the gynae not the surgeon) delivered both my girls. He's been in the business a long time. He must have done this before. Right?

Wrong.

My journey quickly went from “let's trust the doctors” to “I'm fighting for my life in more ways than one”. The surgeon pressured me with warnings the cancer could spread — then proceeded to botch the urgent surgery. He left me with more questions than answers. For the first time since the phone call, I felt properly scared — not of the cancer, but of being failed by the very people meant to save me.

This is when the numbness evaporated, and I took charge of my cancer journey. New doctors, new treatment, another surgery, years of continued treatment. I had to learn how to advocate for myself, ask questions, and deal with setbacks. The details of this will come in future posts.

For Anyone Being Diagnosed

Getting diagnosed is scary and changes your life forever. But take a moment for yourself. Sit with it. Yes, you have cancer, but you are not going to die in that exact moment. Gather your thoughts, put together a list of your questions — What's the exact stage and type? What treatment options are available? What are the side effects? What happens if we wait two weeks?

Develop a plan to get the answers — then get multiple answers to the same question. Second opinions, alternative methods, different specialists. You want a full picture, not a single perspective.

This is your life, and you alone should decide what steps you take. If you have a trusted person you can rely on as a sounding board, all the better, but make decisions based on what sits right with you. In my case, if my sister and I didn't insist on that biopsy, another six months would have gone by allowing the cancer to grow or spread. I was told at every single checkup thereafter that the kind of lump I had never gets tested. It was a unicorn. Trust your instincts.

For My Fellow Cancer Warriors

We've been down this road and lost a part of ourselves — physically, emotionally, mentally. We don't ever get that back. We can never go back to the version of us before the C word entered the chat. That's true for everybody going through major situations, but for us, this wasn't a change we orchestrated. It was forced on us. Our options were reduced.

Yes, we had cancer, and yes, it sucked. Yes, our lives are different and yes, that can sometimes suck too. But, we also now get to decide who the NEW ME is. We get to use the C-word to our benefit — to find new passions, and live a life that honours our journey.

The things that used to matter suddenly don't anymore. And the things I used to ignore, or didn't quite know how to articulate — my boundaries, my peace, my body — now sit at the head of the table.

I'll tell you more about my story and how I reclaimed my life after cancer over the coming weeks. If you or someone you know can benefit from my programme, please share it. I would also love to hear, where were you when you were diagnosed? How did you take the news?