JUNE 11 — I never thought I would have something in common with Jamal Yunos but here it is — our cancer treatments worked.
Unlike Jamal, I don't have to deal with pending court judgements but also have quite a bit more treatment to go.
The pathology report from my surgery, from testing the lesion and lymph nodes removed, show no residual cancer.
I knew the odds of this happening was only 50/50 because hormone-positive tumours don't always respond well to chemotherapy but mine did.
It also meant all the effort put into crowdfunding for the (very expensive) drug Perjeta was not for naught and neither were the frequent hospital trips, the constant stabbing of needles, losing my hair and discovering just how far my pain tolerance stretched.
I'm not out of the woods yet as I have another 13 cycles of Herceptin to endure, which will be administered every three weeks.
Going nuclear (literally)
There will be another appointment soon to prepare me for radiotherapy and that will start in a month or so.
I found it very humorous that my oncologist as well as the nice staffers in radiology asked me if I could raise my arms — this is the gauge for how well I can endure the treatment.
My physiotherapist was also surprised I had near-full range of motion in my arms because my legs are a whole other story.
He said my calves and hips were very stiff, and I needed to put work into strengthening my glute muscles as well as do more exercises involving my shoulder blades.
As of now getting up or out of a seat requires a quick prayer, a sharp inhale and resigning myself to painful, awkward hobbling.
Still, at least I won't be having periods as I am now on the estrogen suppressant drug Tamoxifen, which means I am in a chemically induced menopause.
This would perhaps be devastating for a much younger woman or one hoping to conceive, but I am at the age where I will only want to hold a baby if I can give it back.
I have also been irritable and prone to sensory overload since I was a small child so I often joke that I would be little different come menopause.
Chemotherapy has also made me rather heat intolerant to the point I won't be able to tell if I'm having a hot flash or if it's just Malaysian weather.
While I come across as being rather blasé, there is a real need for women to be given better advice on how to deal with perimenopause and what comes after.
Reddit has informed me that it's not just our hormones changing — menopausal women face changes to their genitalia including, sometimes, the complete disappearance of the labia minora.
I'm not going to explain what that is, look it up.
To have cancer and also be dealing with induced menopause would be hard on any woman so if you know someone going through it, please be kind.
I'm still on hospitalisation leave and while my surgery incision is healing well, I'm still not very mobile.
There are many questions I would love to ask my body.
Why is the arm on the side that doesn't have cancer less mobile than the cancer-affected side?
I wake up every morning with my arms sore as though I spent the entire day before working on my butterfly stroke.
Why is my ankle swollen?
Why are my eyelashes and nose hair still not growing back though the top of my head now feels like a kiwi fruit, coated with downy short hairs?
At the same time I wistfully daydream about flying somewhere, anywhere just to clear my head but with a new Covid variant (again) and my legs made of lead, I think next year is a safer bet.
My knees are currently vetoing even the thought of visiting my favourite cafe in Melaka as I find even my purse too heavy to carry around.
Next week I'll be seeing my surgeon for the usual hospital adventure where I wait two hours to see a doctor for 10 minutes.
For now, though, life is as good as it gets, my cat has forgiven me and is back to yelling at me for treats, and I feel as ever, very lucky, very blessed and very grateful.
Thank you for coming along on the journey and your support, whatever form it took.
* This is the personal opinion of the columnist.
