Disrupted Motherhood

I am a first-year medical specialist training in haematology. I was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s lymphoma in June 2018 when I was just 33 years old. My firstborn was four weeks old when I heard the words, “You have cancer.”

I thought my life was over! My dreams, aspirations, and sense of who I am. That was a real wake-up call because I had just graduated as a doctor, and I was excited about my future. I felt unstoppable, and the world was waiting for me to be all I could be. Then it came crashing down with the news of my cancer diagnosis.

Before my diagnosis, I had no major health issues and having just graduated; I felt invincible. My life was only starting, but even this exciting time as a new mum was tarnished. I looked at my baby, and filled with despair, I thought, how long will I be here for my child.

I’m not sure when the turning point came; I moved from total despair to a strong will to fight for my life for my child’s sake. Of course, having a medical background did help, but it also didn’t hide the truth. My prognosis was positive and negative, and I knew what was at stake and what to expect with chemotherapy.  I was reminded of this daily due to my work environment.

I had a great support system that stepped up to help me. My aunt and cousin helped with my baby. My friends accompanied me to my chemo sessions and supported me. 

While I looked normal on the outside, I was fragile on the inside, emotionally and physically. I put on a brave face during my treatment, but the smell of chemo just made me nauseous. In addition, I was anxious about my fertility options and had to consider my options about having more children. That’s when I contacted Dr Prinitha Pillay for her opinion on how to navigate the chemotherapy and plan for my future fertility options.

I was confident that I did not want to have another child after this diagnosis; my only motivation for fertility preservation was really to take my power back, if I could put it that way- the diagnosis and chemotherapy had stood to take some things away from me and being able to have options regarding my fertility was something I could potentially have control of. 

After much discussion, I realised that I did want more children in the future, so I put the chemo on a three-week delay, to start in August while I harvested my eggs. Of course, there’s always an element of uncertainty that tips the scales, but I wanted to know I still had options.

I needed to get my power back and still give the chemo a fair chance. I stopped breastfeeding, which made me pretty emotional and sad that I couldn’t give my child what I had planned for him; to get a good chance from infancy. I felt hopeless at times and would walk on the street, look at random people, and think they had a better chance at life than I did.

However, being diagnosed with cancer was humbling and made me look at things differently. I was relieved to see that not everything was in my control. While I previously controlled most parts of my life, I understood that there was a greater force to whom I had to surrender. I had serious conversations with God. I asked many questions, especially about my young child’s future. My faith grew, and I slowly began believing that it would all be okay. The positive of cancer is recognising a higher power that governs my life’s path. I just felt God’s presence and strength every step of the way.  It’s inevitable to re-evaluate your life.

My chemo sessions went on for six months.  After three or four months of chemo, I fell pregnant naturally.  My second pregnancy was mentally quite a challenge. In week 16, the doctor asked me to come and see her.  I prepared for the worst. The fear of cancer returning constantly hung over my mind. I checked my lymph nodes daily and reminded myself not to overreact and take it one day at a time.  The gynae said that my baby could have Down Syndrome, and I declined to have an amniocentesis. I had to trust God and remain positive.

Doctors have conversations about death daily, and we help patients remove the fear and think about their illness in a healthy mindset, but it becomes tricky when the mirror is sharply focused on you. However, now I empathise with my patients more because I am experiencing it for myself, especially regarding Hodgkins. Therefore, I share my journey with my patients. While I am a doctor, I am also a patient and can understand and relate to what they are going through medically, physically, and emotionally.

My family had confidence that I’ll figure it out, but I was terrified. Eventually, I was ready to take on the fight. I spent time alone to shut out the noise, which gave me perspective.

From a cultural point of view, there were many meanings ascribed to being diagnosed with cancer. For example, people said it was jealousy or black magic spells, but I did not accept this as a medically trained professional. Instead, I was diagnosed with a well-defined entity that explained and accounted for everything in my body.

I was advised to consider alternative medicine and natural healers. I was presented with anecdotes of great healing through indigenous medication. It made sense to stick and trust what I was familiar with, the medicine I was familiar with through my exposure and training. I now appreciate the depth and richness of traditional medicine. What fascinates me is the greater possibilities that collaboration between the two would bring!

My life is all about being intentional and living with purpose, which gives me hope.

People diagnosed with cancer should find help to heal from within and find the will to live from within. 

Dr Lungile Malaka

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

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