Chilling words of a life with cancer

YES, it is cancer. You must undergo major surgery immediately. It is termed angio-sarcoma. A very rare type of cancer and yours is the first case ever encountered in Brunei. The pathologist had seen this case before in the UK but that was some 30 years back!

These words of revelation still echo in my head till this day. It was last year and I was just two days after being discharged from hospital, after going through a surgical procedure to remove and biopsy a lump in my breast.I still remember, there was just unbroken silence, after the doctor broke the news to me. I was speechless. I took a deep breath. Not a word came out of my mouth when my husband, Nadzri, approached me. It seems the doctor had told him earlier. He held my hands tightly and comforted me with his tender loving words.

I was rather reactive. Those words meant nothing to me. The thought of death suddenly crossed my mind. My head began to spin. I am going to die, I am going to die.

For a moment, memories flashed back. Those sweet moments with my dear husband and our two lovely princes filled my mind. Tears began to flow down my cheeks.

Allah, why so soon? Why? I was only 40. I had not spent enough time with my husband and children. Why only 14 years with Asyraf? Why only 10 years with Isyraf?

All of a sudden, I felt the world begin to crumble around me and I almost fell to the ground. My husband had to place me back on the bed.

Travel arrangements were made at the eleventh hour that day. According to the doctor, I had to be undergo surgery without delay.

It was Friday when we flew out to Singapore, a day after the diagnosis. I was accompanied by the people who meant the most in my life; my husband, my parents and my brother.

My two princes only joined us later, accompanied by my sister and brother-in-law. Families, relatives, friends and most who knew me flocked the airport to send me off.

My hand phone was flooded with so many inspirational phone messages . There were even messages from people I hardly knew at that time.

We landed at Changi International Airport, Singapore around 9.30pm.

In Singapore, I was referred to the National Cancer Centre (NCC). As I looked at the big white signage of the centre, I thought: "Allah, I am now one of them. Cancer? The word that I would never have imagined being ever attached to me, but now it is indeed a part of my life!" I looked around the hall as I waited to be called in. I could feel the puzzled expression on my face, wondering why I had to be there.

In an attempt to unburden my heart and ease my pain (hoping that I was misdiagnosed), I asked the doctor if the diagnosis was right. It was indeed angiosarcoma.

"There is no medication for it. The best treatment is surgery, to remove the whole tumour and a safe margin of clear tissue around it," the doctor told me.

"It may be followed up with radiotherapy or chemotherapy but many doctors feel that this is unnecessary because its real value has never been proven by clinical research."

And that meant another surgery for me within eight days after I had the first one in Brunei.

The day came. It was 7am when we reached the Singapore General Hospital. It was still dark and my mind drifted back to a normal workday in Brunei. Back home, Monday is often a busy day at Shell, where I work.

Never had I been so nervous in my life and I could literally feel the tremors inside me.

Finally, the time came. A nurse and another assistant came to pick me up. I was stretchered to the operating theatre.

Before that final entry, I was allowed to say good-bye to my family. I hugged my dearest Asyraf and Isyraf, holding them tightly in my arms, never wanting to let go.

"Allah, I have faith in you. I know you will do your miracles on me. Ya Allah, bring me back to them. Take me back to them. Please allow me to see them again. They are just too young for this trial and tribulation. I thank you Allah, I thank you again."

I could not stop the tears flowing down my cheeks. It was a very emotional moment during that final departure. Only Allah knows how I really felt at that moment. I can still see rivers of tears flowing down their cheeks, as I was being pushed further and disappeared into the operating theatre.

The surgery took about five hours. I woke up in a private room and I could briefly hear voices reciting prayers coming from family members.

The most joyful thing happened as I felt warm kisses from my two lovely princes. I was able to feel their touch again. I wondered if they knew what really happened. I underwent surgery that they know, but the fact that their Bonda (mother) was the bearer of the very rare angiosarcoma that they probably did not fully understand.

I managed to put a smile back on my face that moment I heard my husband calling my name. When I regained full consciousness, I could see my father, sister, brother-in-law, brother and husband around me. We were reunited once again. At one corner of the room, I could see six doctors standing, smiling and greeting me.

One of the doctors then told me that they had to perform a bone scan and a CT scan to make sure the disease had not spread to the other parts of my body.

"Ya Allah! What now? What more is there? You had given me the toughest test, Allah. But I thank you for all these; I thank you very much for choosing me for one reason or another, please bless me Allah," I prayed.

Two days after my discharge, I went back for my CT scan. The whole procedure, from the drinking of the contrast fluid to the needle insertion to the scan itself, took about an hour. We were then asked to wait in the waiting area, before all the results including surgery sample test and bone scanning, could be compiled.

Not long after, my name was called out. In I went, with my husband to meet Dr Ho, who would tell us the results.

My husband grasped my trembling hands to comfort me.

We were answering Dr Ho's regular questions when the phone rang. She answered and asked the caller for the results. My heart began to race faster , so loud that I could even hear the beats. Dr Ho suddenly stood up and left the room without a word. My husband and I looked at each other anxiously. All that time he was still holding my hand firmly.

"It is going to be alright," he said. I just smiled and turned away, looking elsewhere aimlessly.

Then Dr Ho returned. "Here are the results. The sample from the surgery, the bone scanning and the CT scan are all clear."

I broke into tears. I could not hold them in. I just wept and wept but this time it was tears of joy. I could see tears flowing down my husband's face as well.

Thank you, Allah. Thank you. You answered my prayers. Now I know why you chose me for this. "Take care of yourself. I cannot guarantee that it will not recur,"continued Dr Ho as she embraced me.

"But well done. I know you will be one of those who will recover fast."

"Thank you. I will (recover) and I will prove to the world that I can win the fight."

While waiting for the final paper work to be done, I shared the good news with my family, relatives, friends, and colleagues.

Soon messages via SMS started flooding my hand phone again. Back in the hotel room, I saw my father, my mother and my brother, who were all in tears.

Apparently, my sister had called them earlier, telling them about the good news. It was very emotional at that moment. It was as if a life had been lost and suddenly, miraculously replaced by another.

This is my personal story and a story of a first hand experience that I have shared with you.

I am not seeking sympathy but to urge who had the same experience, to come out and fight.

What I have gone through made me stronger, a million times wiser and a more compassionate person.

I have come to a realisation that no matter what your social status is, how blessed you are in terms of wealth and health, we are still vulnerable. We still can be messed with.

How vital regular medical checks are, because they really can save your life. I know of people whose lives were saved just by becoming more aware. There is a general perception that this doesn't happen to younger people and I am not here to scare people and all, but it does happen.

I have now a much deeper understanding of how it really feels to go through such an ordeal.

Despite, the pain, I found that it does bring out something wonderful in a lot of people. No matter how hard life is, you have to dive into the challenges, to understand what life is all about. Your life depends on you.

You are responsible for your own life. Be proactive.

In life, whatever your mind can conceive, believe it can be achieved. With a positive mind, life is so meaningful and you can easily head to the desired direction. But to head to that direction, you have to have priority in life and put first things first, to win life.

Each morning I wake up is merely another blessing and another beautiful gift from Allah, who has granted me another day to live.

I have a life to live, a beautiful family to live for. I will continue this journey. A journey of a fighter and a survivor.

I will prove that I can win this battle. I have cancer but cancer doesn't have me. I have faith in Allah and the fate from Allah binds me, the chosen miracle. The Brunei Times