Content warning: mentions of cancer and related trauma
My mother is one of the strongest people I know. It might sound like a cliché, but I believe that clichés are clichés for a reason. They hold true in most cases.
As for my “amma”, as I am used to calling her: she has survived cancer… and more. She continues to thrive despite the toll it took on her physical and mental health. But, it was not always easy. It still isn’t.
I would be lying if I said it’s all sunshine and rainbows now that she is out of (medical) danger. It still affects her to the point that she doesn’t like dwelling on those days, at all… Or even mentioning it in passing, for that matter.
I remember when she first got diagnosed with the deadly disease—“why me?” was her constant state of mind. My father was the one who went to the hospital to collect her biopsy report. However, he couldn’t bring himself to tell her that the report confirmed our worst fears.
I Was The Harbinger Of Bad News
That duty fell to me. And, I did it, without blinking an eye. Her face fell when I told her the bad news. But, I was convinced that she deserved to know as soon as possible. I would do the same again if time was rewound.
As one of her caregivers, I saw her go through a lot of trauma firsthand, be it because of surgery, chemotherapy or radiation. I saw her appetite fall. I saw her mood swings. I saw her pray throughout the day. I also saw her losing faith and then gaining it back.
I remember accompanying her to the hospital during her recovery phase, for checkups and whatnot. All the nurses loved her. She would make keen conversation with them, about them, unlike the other patients, who I am assuming were preoccupied with their own set of hellish troubles.
I also remember seeing her oncologist’s rainbow socks peek out from underneath their pants and wondering if they were queer, or if I was reading into it too much. I was delighted to find out (much later) that they were!
Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow
One of the strongest memories I have of my amma dealing with cancer is of her losing her hair. Being an old school woman, my mother believes that a woman ‘ought to’ have long hair. Let me give you an example to illustrate her fondness further.
When she thought I was a ‘girl’, she would gasp in horror whenever I went bald. She would refuse to talk to me for a couple of days, till her love for me would win her over such that she would end up petting the stubble on my head.
Anyhow, this one time when she was feeling weaker than usual and nursing a terrible headache, she asked me to comb her hair. I was combing her matted, curly locks when they began to fall out in clumps. It was heartbreaking to witness that.
We decided it was time she shaved it all off and let it grow back at its own pace. She sobbed silently as the barber who came over shaved her head. I saw tears rolling down her cheeks the entire time.
‘Breast Cancer Is The Best Cancer?’
Apparently, ‘breast cancer is the best cancer’. I don’t know where I heard this morbidly reassuring phrase, but it really helped me to know that she was going to be okay.
People with breast cancer have one of the highest rates of survival, compared to those afflicted with cancers of other kinds. The chances of survival become even better with early detection.
My mother is an attentive woman. She would regularly self-examine her breasts. She noticed something off about one of them during what would have been just another self-examination.
As soon as she told us that she could feel a lump in one of her breasts, we rushed to the doctor. We took a second opinion too, for good measure. I am convinced that if she wasn’t as perceptive as she is, things could have ended differently and… darkly, perhaps.
Self-Examine Your Breasts Regularly
How to check for breast cancer? Make it a practice to check your breasts (or chest) for lumps, swellings, or distortions of any kind. You can do this by looking at them in the mirror, followed by touching them with your finger pads.
Cover the entire area: from top to bottom and side to side; from your collarbone to the top of your abdomen, and from your armpit to your cleavage.
Do this once a month and make a note of your observations in a designated diary. If something feels new/different, be sure to get it checked at the earliest.
