Counting our blessings
Mrs Merlin Yao Lim, 50, a mother of three living in Manila, writes about her brush with cancer
When I first found out that I had cancer in 1999, I was astounded and frightened of what I would have to go through to deal with the disease.
My father also had cancer, and at the time, he was seeing a Chinese traditional medicine (TCM) practitioner.
I had a lump in my breast and went to see a surgeon. We did a biopsy and he told me that I ought to go for an operation to get the tumour out – but I was afraid, so I opted for the easier route and went to see this TCM doctor instead.
This was a very big mistake: He turned out to be a quack.
Each week, I would go to see him and pay for some very expensive pills. And each week, he would tell me that I was getting better, even though my tumour was getting bigger.
After a year, there was pus coming out of the lump, so I went back to see my surgeon. By that time, he told me, the tumour was too big to be operated on, and I had to be put on chemotherapy first.
At this time, the family had just moved into a new house. The kids were just 12, eight and four years old.
I felt very sorry that they had to be subjected to this emotional stress at such a young age, but my husband and I decided that we would not keep my illness a secret from them.
My little daughter, who was used to her father being able to handle most situations, asked him: “Daddy, why can’t you do something?”
It was a low point in our lives. We felt very helpless, and this was when we turned to God.
We are Catholics but we were not very religious. This is a situation, however, where we found we were completely helpless, and we turned to our Creator.
Something also happened at the chemotherapy clinic in Manila which changed our lives.
It was my husband who saw a man receiving treatment in the same room. His clothes were dirty and tattered, his face was dirty and he was obviously not well-to-do.
But he was eating a big sandwich, surrounded by friends and family, and he was laughing out loud. His face was shining, and he appeared to be a wise man.
My husband said: “I am healthier than this man, he is poorer than me, but why is he laughing and I am not?”
It was a big lesson that we ought to count our blessings, and to see that we were blessed in many ways.
In February 2002, we went to Singapore for treatment. After going through my medical history, my doctor knew that I did not have a good chance.
This did not come as a surprise to me, as my husband had already done the research and we knew that I had only about 18 months thereafter.
Doctors would say that I was a “bad player”.
They use this term to describe cancer patients who have cancers that are aggressive and have a generally poorer prognosis.
I was told that the tell-tale signs included a large tumour 7 cm across – most cancers are discovered when they are only 2 to 3 cm – and that a high number of axillary lymph nodes were affected by cancer.
A breast cancer patient with no lymph nodes involved has a 20 to 30 per cent chance of cancer recurrence; one to three lymph nodes, 50 per cent; four to six lymph nodes, 70 per cent; and more than six lymph nodes involved, a greater than 90 per cent chance of cancer recurrence.
By November 2001, I had been given aggressive chemotherapy for eight cycles followed by radiation therapy.
However, by January 2002, there was already evidence of cancer recurrence. I was free of the disease for only a short time – which was another indicator of aggressive cancer and poor prognosis.
By the following month, I had stage 4 cancer, with the CT scan of my chest showing several marks in my lungs. Despite my low chances, my doctor, Dr Ang Peng Tiam, didn’t show hesitation in accepting me as his patient.
At my first session of chemotherapy, I was crying my eyes out in one of the blue treatment rooms in his clinic.
Dr Ang came into the room and told me: “Look, why are you crying? You can’t get better by crying and you are making your loved ones so sad. You have to work hand in hand with me to fight this.”
And so I did.
Breast cancer is a disease where there are many treatment options which can control the disease and prolong our lives.
After three cycles of chemotherapy, I had gained 6 kg and was in the pink of health. All the cancer nodules in my lungs had disappeared.
We completed six cycles of chemotherapy in June 2002 and a CT scan confirmed that I was in remission.
At this point, I was wondering if I should continue with treatment, as I was well already. Many oncologists would suggest discontinuing the treatment.
We had a discussion with the family and Dr Ang, and we thought: “Why rock the boat?”
Dr Ang calls this maintenance chemotherapy. It was especially important for me because of the short disease-free interval.
Don’t forget, I had completed my chemotherapy and radiotherapy in November 2001 and within three months, we were already seeing a recurrence of the cancer.
I did not want to stop and have to go through the trauma again, and restart aggressive chemotherapy. So I went to the doctor once a month and over the next six years, gradually extended the intervals between treatments to one treatment every three months.
The good news is that up till now, I have not had a second recurrence.
As a stage 4 breast cancer patient, I know my cancer is not curable, but it certainly is a highly treatable condition.
There are patients who are alive more than 15 years after they have been discovered to have stage 4 cancer. So now, we enjoy ourselves every day, we spend time with the children, and we remember to count our blessings.
