Fighting breast cancer

Ingrid Valles Po was a 34-year-old working mother when her world was rocked by the diagnosis of breast cancer. To mark International Breast Cancer Awareness month, Ingrid shares her story and her determination to survive.

One day I was reading a magazine, when I was drawn to an article on breast cancer - my grandmother had died of the illness and my older sister had previously suffered from benign cysts.

After reading the article, I did further research on the net and discovered a self-examination chart. That night - January 16, 2003 - I discovered a lump. I couldn't believe this was happening to me.

I was only 34 years old, and had a five-year-old daughter - my whole world spun around me. My husband and I had moved to Dubai from Goa in 1993, and I had a fulfilling life, working and raising my beautiful girl.

I went to a hospital here in Dubai and was scheduled for a mammogram a month later, in February. A needle incision in early March was followed by a lumpectomy two weeks later.

On April 1 - talk about bad jokes - my doctors confirmed that I had breast cancer. They told me I was 'lucky' because it had been caught in the early stages.

My first thought was of death. But then I saw the devastation on my husband's face and decided I had to be positive. I smiled, to try and help him feel relaxed.

We asked the doctor for treatment options, and made a decision in ten minutes. For the sake of my husband and daughter, I chose the most severe - a mastectomy - as it offered me a better chance of survival.

We did not tell our daughter immediately. Earlier, when I had gone in for the lumpectomy, I had simply told her I needed to go for a night to the hospital as I had some germs which needed to be removed.

We decided not to mention the word 'cancer' just in case some unthinking adult might say 'people die when they have cancer', so we kept it from her.

My mother flew in from India just before I was scheduled for the mastectomy. She has always been there for us, and wanted to help.

But when I saw her at the airport, I was devastated. She had lost a good 10kg and her clothes hung on her. She had dark circles under her eyes and the minute she saw me, she burst into tears.

I quickly reminded her that we were in public - and that I was not dying. I joked all the way home, while she tried not to cry. That night I set the rules: no crying, or I'd put her on a plane back to India. I was going to fight this disease and be strong, and I needed strong people around me and my daughter.

Still, I can imagine how hard it all was for her - for a mother it is so difficult to see her daughter suffering.

But I would laugh and joke... and then do my crying in the bathroom on my own when I could not take the stress any more. I am a proud person and at that time I thought that crying made me look weak.

But I have changed, and now I realise that it is not so - that crying is just another way of expressing yourself.

The day I was admitted for the mastectomy, just five days after receiving the devastating diagnosis, was also our daughter's first day back at school in Grade 1.

I went to the school to drop her off and to meet the teacher, then I went to the hospital to check in. After the operation, I woke up to discover that my upper left arm was numb, apparently as a result of the doctors removing nodes from that area.

Despite all the research I had done prior to the operation, this was not a symptom I had ever read about, nor had my doctors told me this might be a possibility. I was furious.

Two days after the operation the doctors offered me physiotherapy, but I refused. A day later I changed my mind.

I was told I would be able to raise the arm 90 degrees after six to 12 months if I practised three times a day. Being me, I did 10 exercises a day and raised my arm within six weeks. I was on the path to recovery.

While I was in hospital, my mother looked after our daughter and prepared meals for my husband, and in the evenings she would come to see me and help give me a sponge bath.

She offered me her shoulder to cry on during the first three days when I cried because of the pain. She did a lot for me, and words will never be enough to explain what a wonderful moral support she was.

The next step

Less than a month after my mastectomy, I was back at work as an international sales administrator with a local publishing house. My next - and most difficult challenge - was still to come: chemotherapy.

My first chemo was booked for May 12. All went well until I completed the dose. As soon as the nurse left my bedside I did not know if I wanted to throw up, cry or die, and I spent a restless night in hospital.

When I came home the next day, I was in a strange mood as I did not know what was happening to me. In two days' time my mother was travelling back to India, and the thought of how I would cope was troubling me. For the next two days I retreated into a shell, and cried the night she left. I felt like a baby bird.

The morning after my mother left, I decided to fight the nausea and take on the disease with a vengeance. I prepared breakfast for us all and we sat down together for breakfast for the first time in a long time.

It was a Friday. I ate a little, and then found the strength to prepare a meal for lunch. Of course, I overdid it and was utterly exhausted by evening, but I was determined to have courage.

Then I caught an infection which turned to full blown flu with tonsillitis. Just two weeks after my first chemo, I was again admitted to hospital and put in isolation.

My hair had started to fall out and I was feeling particularly low. I broke down, feeling that life was cruel and that I wanted to die.

But the thought of our daughter growing up without me, without a mother to run to when she needed her the most, made me decide to fight for my life.

After a week in hospital, I was discharged. I went home looking like an alien from Star Trek... a few patches of hair here and there.

I decided my first visit would be to the beauty parlour: I was going to have my hair shaved off... I was going to be bald!

Although I was still feeling frightened, I refused to think about death and continued to put on a positive front. My husband was extremely strong and never let me think beyond the present moment.

Every evening, once my daughter was asleep, we would talk and discuss issues, which helped a lot. He told me that there was no chance he would lose me to the disease, so we would fight it together all the way. What more does a wife need?

Although the rest of the chemo went well, I suffered memory loss after my second treatment, which was really scary. I had read about memory power dwindling while on chemo, but I never expected it to hit me.

Suddenly I found I was repeating tasks I had completed earlier in the day - I felt totally embarrassed. I willed it to get better and pushed myself to the limit, maintaining a daily log.

The big turnaround

A few weeks after completing the course of chemo, depression struck. I was bloated, I had no hair, eyebrows, or eyelashes... I felt like an alien. The doctors refused to give me anti-depressants, saying I had to get my life back on track myself.

The first step was losing weight. I began dieting and after three months I had the figure I wanted.

Then, four weeks after the last chemo, on August 15, while on holiday in India, I noticed what I thought was prickly-heat on my head. But it did not itch and was not red: it was my hair growing back!

It was wonderful! My daughter could not get over the fact I was growing new hair. For the first three decades of my life I had straight long hair which was my pride....now I had short curly hair.

The final step was to get a whole new image and wardrobe, more colourful than the black and whites I loved before. And with that, my physical transformation was complete.

I really feel that I have been truly blessed and that I have been given a second chance. During my various stays in hospital I met many women fighting this disease, and not always winning.

So I considered myself lucky. I decided to sit down and write a list of what I wanted to do with my life. I chose all the things that filled me with fear and made me want to run in the opposite direction. Like driving.

I had never even learnt to ride a bicycle, but two months after registering for driving classes, I held the license in my hand. My daughter was so proud of me - now we could have our mother-daughter outings.

The next issue was work. I was a workaholic and that needed to change. Although occasionally I would stay late to cope with my work load, I was determined to spend more time with my family, and we started doing more fun stuff together that went beyond just watching movies.

We drove to the mountains, which I found incredibly calming, and we saw the different emirates. We went on picnics and set off on a really long and enjoyable holiday to the Far East...

I also really wanted to reach out and give something back to people in need, particularly fellow sufferers. I met my doctor and told him I wanted to help others. At my office, I held a get together for all the women staff and told them what I had just been through.

Besides three close friends and the bosses, no one else knew. So it was a revelation for them. Some were crying, some were too shocked to speak; some were clapping.

But in the end they were wonderful and supportive. I also volunteered to help by speaking with their friends and family who might be diagnosed.

Since then I have met and comforted many women suffering from cancer by sharing my story and experiences. I cannot say if I have made an impression or not - but I have definitely made more friends!

In India, before I moved to Dubai, I had always done charity work: visiting orphanages and old age homes. When I was in hospital after my surgery, I started by caring for some of the less fortunate patients in my ward with me. That was the start.

When I was better and after all my treatment was complete, I felt I wanted to do more. So I got in touch with Avon, who have a strong breast cancer support programme, the Breast Cancer Crusade.

I joined the Avon Cosmetics group with the hope of helping the cause through their Breast Cancer Crusade. In 2006, through the sale of breast cancer pins and charity items I raised Dhs13,500 for breast cancer.

Last year, I passed Dhs25,000 in collections. What can be more satisfying than giving your bit back?

In 2007, I was selected as the UAE Avon Crusade Ambassador and had two trips to attend for the cause: one to New York, where more than 4,000 people walked and help raise US$10.2 million for the cause, and the other to Ireland, where the charity hosted a theatre event.

Locally, we organised a Walkathon in Zabeel Park, which was also a huge success.

Perhaps the most important thing breast cancer has taught me, is to be positive. It has also given me the chance to share my experience with others and help them to realise that the disease is curable. I get a sense of real personal gratification from helping others.

I have been clear of cancer for five years now, and have only just started to think that that chapter in my life is over, as often during those years the cancer can return. I have been lucky.

Finding support