Keeping A Breast
By Deni Brown
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About this ebook
Deni Brown, writer of comic strips and other things, was diagnosed with breast cancer at the age of sixty-something. Living alone (well not quite, there was always a cat or two), near picturesque False Bay coastline in Cape Town, surviving on a freelancer’s salary, she had no family to support her, no medical aid, no pension fund to draw from, no big savings account. She wondered How the hell am I going to get through this on my own? But she reckoned without her network of close friends, and, oh yes, the friends on Facebook, who spread their wings and helped her through it. She discovered cancer funding organisations willing to pay the accounts as she braved a public hospital and the horrors of chemotherapy and radiotherapy. She met caring medical staff, made new friends, and ultimately she did it, not quite on her own. Trying to see the funny side of cancer and thinking no way did she go through all that for nothing, she kept a journal of her experiences, although she had to touch on the dark side as well. If you’re going into battle, you need to be forewarned and forearmed, so this story, accompanied by helpful tips and insights, bursts of simple Haiku, and illustrations by some of the country’s leading cartoonists, will hopefully encourage and inspire.
Deni Brown
I live in beautiful Cape Town and write comic strips for a living! The most well known one is Mama Taxi which has been appearing in national newspapers for ten years and I recently launched a new strip called Frikkie, about the adventures of a traffic cop. I am also the partner in a project called My Story, where we film interesting people telling their life stories. For more fun I am part of a three piece group, composing and playing our own experimental music.
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Keeping A Breast - Deni Brown
PROLOGUE
There is nothing in the least bit funny about cancer. It’s definitely no laughing matter, but as a writer of comic strips with one ear always open for something amusing to write about, I thought I would see if I could find any lighter moments or vaguely humorous experiences during my cancer year, that could possibly help others. After all, it’s my job to attempt to amuse others and put a smile in their day.
Yes, it was a year. Depending on the status and severity of the cancer, it could take many months to deal with this life crisis, from the initial diagnosis (factoring in various delays for availability of oncologist and surgeon) through surgery and recovery, then probably chemotherapy, and recovery from that – followed by radiotherapy, then Recovery with a capital R from the whole lot. So you might as well dedicate a year to being with your body (and mind and spirit), learning about loving, nurturing and protecting it, even at times uttering heartfelt curses when you believe it is failing you. It’s not the body, it’s what’s trying to take it over. Get to know it like you’ve never known it before. Try gentleness, understanding and acceptance.
The months of trial and tribulation
will pass, even if it seems at a snail’s pace, and will come to an end. And then just when you’re sighing with relief that it’s all over, they’ll most likely prescribe a pill that you will take for five years, and casually mention one or two new side effects. Suck it up. You’ll do whatever it takes for your body to be armed against any possible invaders. Besides, you’re tough now.
Yes you sure are going to come out of this as one proud warrior woman. You’ll have conquered bad days and enjoyed fleeting good ones and reached a stage when you realise the bad ones don’t come around quite that often anymore. You’ll marvel at what your body has endured and that it has bounced back to the extent that everyone tells you that you look AMAZING.
So were there any funny moments?
Well certainly lots in retrospect! Gradually learning how to manage what a friend called my new normal
, I certainly was able to step back on my skinny wobbly legs and observe, chat to my inner cynic, and make some wry entries in the journal. I recorded every little detail, but some of those personal little details won’t be included here.
Cancer needn’t be all doom and gloom. It’s not always a death sentence, (so there’s a positive thought to hang onto). There are different stages and severities and of course every patient and their experience is unique. Mine was a particularly aggressive blighter and the drugs were hard on me. As another friend observed, in the process of killing the cancer they’re almost killing your body as well. Almost, but not quite.
I emerged from the trial wearing my gold stars and done chemo can do anything
tee shirt and figured that I couldn’t let all that experience go to waste, I had to tell people that if I can do it, you can do it too. So I converted my journal entries to this story, in the hope that it will inspire and encourage you. Whether you are a warrior, or the loving friend or family of someone who is fighting the good fight, this is just to keep you abreast of the reality of the situation and how I managed to keep a breast.
THE CHALLENGE
At times my cancer year seemed an epic and endless battle, against which all previous life-changing events, such as loss and divorce, paled in comparison. I fought alone, having no partner or family; that’s right, not even one distant cousin, so don’t ask or I’ll say: what part of no family do you not understand? My friends became my family and I came away with not only brownie points and gold stars but unbelievable strong bonds with friends, both old and new, male and female. I can’t imagine what I would have done without them.
Of course there was also the loss of some friendships - not everybody gets what you’re going through and some people withdraw, not really understanding. Perhaps they don’t have the right words, or perhaps they think they will catch the illness. This is sad at the time, something you have to come to terms with, but it’s balanced by the gain of profound new connections, of love and affection that is truly sincere and boundless.
So here I am, suddenly confronting a major life crisis, with no family, no loving partner to mop my brow, and did I mention I also had no money? No medical aid, no pension, no trust fund. Freelancer that I am and relatively free spirit, I never did get serious about the what if
questions of life, never took out a hospital plan or saved enough for a major medical challenge. And here I was faced with one. Let me share with you how I managed it.
Early in the year I came upon a rune-stone with the word TRUST carved into it and I kept that little stone on display and held it whenever times were tough. It took a while to really TRUST in that word, and indeed the world out there, but I persevered and, hey, look at me now. All that gunk out of my body and presto — a new and quite different woman!
DAY OF RECONCILIATION (WITH REALITY)
It’s 16 December, the Day of Reconciliation in South Africa, and I’m spending a public holiday in a hospital bed, trying to reconcile myself to the fact that I’ve just had surgery for a couple of malignant tumours in my right breast, as well as some lymph nodes: ¬ that I have cancer. You know — that thing that only happens to other people. But let’s rewind and start at :
THE BEGINNING…
OCTOBER
For the last few months I’ve been having aches and pains in my shoulder and at the top of my breast close to my armpit. My chiropractor has been trying to sort it out to no avail and I’ve been rubbing a knot
of muscle way too much, unknowingly rubbing a tumour. Eventually he says I don’t like this and I’m not messing with it any more, go see your doctor. So I go see my doctor and she says I don’t like this, go and have a mammogram. I haven’t had one of those for years, believing that I don’t do cancer
but now I’m growing anxious and think Oh well, just to be on the safe side, so I find a breast clinic in the Yellow Pages and make an appointment.
My diary entry for 6 October reads oh dear I have the Big C
. What an understatement. I arrive at a posh clinic in a leafy suburb. There’s an attractive doctor in charge and after a short conversation with her, (not enough to establish any kind of bond or to reassure me), a nurse is giving me a mammogram. Then I’m shown through to the examining room, where the doctor tells me she wants to do ultrasound as well.
So I’m lying on the bed with my arm above my head and I look at the screen. There’s a large black blob
, what she calls a mass, and I think Uh-oh, that doesn’t look friendly.
After a while the doctor leans across her desk towards me. I’m afraid I have bad news, she says. There are suspicious tumours in your breast and lymph nodes, which I would say have a 99.9% chance of being malignant. You’ll have to have a mastectomy. I look around to see who she’s talking to, but it’s only the two of us in the room.
To establish this, she continues, I’m going to do a biopsy now and I’ll call you with the results and make an appointment with a