Cancer Jolts You into Life.

Caroline Wanjiku Kihato is a 51-year-old female who lives in Oxford, England. She works as an academic and a consultant in the Urban Planning and development sector. Caroline lived in South Africa when she was diagnosed with breast cancer in January 2017.

We were getting documents together for my husband’s new job in the US, so I had to take some tests before we left. That’s when I was told I had cancer. We had to put all our plans on hold after the unexpected happened. 

I did not get overly emotional when I heard my diagnosis. I just wanted to get started on the treatment and get it over and done with. The doctor wanted to do a biopsy and called me to discuss the treatment plan. I knew I had to cancel all my plans and start the treatment immediately with Dr Caroline Benn.

Before beginning the breast cancer treatment, I stepped into the Cancer Matrix, which involved approvals from medical aids and referrals from doctors. Lots of back and forth with admin issues before the actual treatment began.

My health was generally good, and I had not felt ill or noticed any lumps or symptoms, so I was surprised to hear the diagnosis. Nevertheless, I decided to go with the flow and get through the treatment to live my life and carry out my plans.

I was also lucky to have been diagnosed in South Africa because of the care and support, and innovative treatment offered in this country.  The treatment involved removing cancer and having radiation treatment. Reconstruction was also part of the treatment. 

I surrendered my care to my doctors and started Tamoxifen, bringing on early menopause. I must admit I was better prepared to deal with cancer than with menopause. I don’t have children, and menopause meant that was final. Since Tamoxifen has to be taken for quite some time, navigating its side effects can be difficult. 

My husband was shocked and concerned when he heard about my diagnosis because his mother passed away after her breast cancer diagnosis. He had to deal with some level of trauma because he lost his mother. 

I planned to keep my cancer diagnosis to myself and didn’t want to concern others about what was going on with me. I did not want to make it a big deal or impose my illness on others, so I contained my emotions; however, I broke down when I told my parents. My dad had cancer twice and survived, so I knew what this would mean and how they would react to my cancer diagnosis.

I realised the fear of losing my loved ones to cancer was why I did not want to tell people and concern them because I knew how I felt when my loved ones were diagnosed with cancer.

I felt that people get cancer when they are old, but that is undoubtedly a myth. When my mother-in-law and my father were diagnosed with cancer back then, it was a big deal. It seemed to be a big bad curse. However, treatment options, support and information are more available and accessible now.

I am glad that the breast cancer was caught early.  Therefore, I want to stress how important it is to get tested early.  Even though the tumour was removed from my breast, there’s a reminder of its presence. Especially when I go for regular tests and my annual scan, there’s a sense of foreboding – will they find another lump this time?

My cancer diagnosis changed my relationship with my body.  It’s not just that I became more aware of what I ate and how often I exercised, but how I ‘saw’ myself. That changed. Having been diagnosed relatively young (in my mid-40s), I hadn’t thought much about how our bodies change with age and time. Sure, I had always been physically active and was a regular yoga and meditation practitioner, and these practices have undoubtedly helped me navigate the disease. 

But I couldn’t have predicted the fraught-ness, the constant struggle to come to terms with a body that had changed forever. I have keloids where the surgeon made incisions that never let me forget. In spring, during hay fever season, the keloids take on a life of their own. I have been known to be sitting at a formal dinner table and lifting my top to stop the incessant itch under my breasts. Embarrassing, I know, but the scratch feels really good. 

Aside from the slightly odd tableside manners, is a more severe issue around body image and how that impacts physical intimacy. How to cultivate closeness with physical wounds – to heal inside and gain the confidence to come alive again. These conversations need sensitivity, openness, and care for both the patient and the partner.  

I got strength from coping with the trauma because the system’s wheels turned. I was lucky to have the treatment I did, knowing many do not have the same privilege. I have life. I am alive. And my journey over the last few years has been to understand my place in the world and what contribution I can make. 

There is a genuine community of women globally to help people know they are not alone in this. Even though I was between South Africa, the US and the UK, wherever I looked, there was always support and people who cared. I learned the importance of community and the generosity of strangers. I learned to trust. 

Cancer seems to have the ability to jolt you into life. To sharpen your lenses and allow you to see what is essential. I must admit that I continue to lose focus, fluffing about over not-so-important stuff. But I notice that I have a little more confidence than I did about the value of my life. I enjoy everyday mundane things a little more – sipping tea, the smile of a stranger, the brightly coloured butterfly, and delicate tree blossoms. These little things are a joy. That’s the gift from cancer.

Thank you for sharing! We all benefit from you sharing your experience.

To share your story, please contact us at reception@treatingcancer.co.za