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Breast cancer and pregnancy

A true moving story of hope and courage, as told  Mwanamisi Ali

Until 2004, my life was what it is supposed to be — real good. I was happily married to a loving and caring husband, and taking care of our two lovely and healthy children. I married while still a teen and got my first child when I was 18 and the second one two and a half years later. Apart from the daily hurdles of life, which any family would face, ours was a happy family. I had never been hospitalized except for the two occasions when I went to deliver my two babies.

I had noticed a swelling on my left breast quite a while ago.
I cannot remember precisely when. The swelling grew slowly.
It was painless and did not disrupt any of my activities and so I did not bother much about it.

After a thorough physical check up and numerous tests, the sledgehammer fell

On 15 September 2004, I decided to go and see a doctor and have the swelling checked. The doctor examined me and asked me several questions. After a thorough physical check up and numerous tests, the sledgehammer fell… I had cancer. As far as I was concerned, the death sentence had been pronounced. I was going to die soon and be buried. I was devastated!

The doctor counseled and informed me that I needed surgery to remove the affected breast because of the extent of the cancer. I had previously heard about breast cancer but did not have any details, nor had I thought I required them. In any case, it was ‘one of those things’ you hear of having happened to ‘other women.’

It was a terrifying experience for my children when they learned that mum had a sickness that required the removal of one breast. They had not seen or heard of anything like this and I had to do a lot of explaining to them. With the help of my family and friends, they appeared to ‘understand’ what this was all about.

Chemotherapy

One month later in October 2004. my left breast was removed at a Mombasa hospital. I was advised that a regimen (medical term for routine treatment) called chemotherapy would be prescribed to stop the cancer from spreading. Simply put. the treatment would kill the cancer cells and arrest its spread.

Chemotherapy is the use of very strong drugs to kill the cancerous cells and stop the cancer from spreading. I was told that the drugs had side effects, which include loss of hair, vomiting, fatigue, pain, anaemia, diarrhoea, constipation, mouth plus gum and throat problems.

What I feared most was loss of hair. I could not imagine myself bald especially knowing how much I loved my hair! I would spend hours looking at myself in the mirror visualizing myself without hair. What had I done to receive such punishment from God? Why was I chosen, if at all there is such a selection process for breast cancer? There was no reason to justify it!

It was like having a gun pointed at your brains

The fact that cancer is a killer disease made it worse. It was like having a gun pointed at your brains without the gunman giving any hint of when the trigger would be pulled, yet insisting that since you had seen his face he would not allow you to live. I was staring cancer straight in the face; the finger was on the trigger.

I consoled myself that I would be better off losing my lovely hair than dying of breast cancer. At 24 years, I was too young to die and my children too young to live without a mum. That alone encouraged me and gave me the confidence to go for the chemotherapy, despite its side effects.

For various reasons, the chemo treatment had to be done in Nairobi. In November I travelled to Nairobi from Mombasa for the treatment. For my children, the pain continued as they watched me leave without understanding what was really happening to their mummy.

The results of the pregnancy test were astonishing

I wanted to start the medication as soon as possible, finish the dose and put the matter behind me. I was admitted into a Nairobi hospital but before the treatment could start. I had to do work-ups. Work-ups are a series of tests to establish a patient’s fitness for chemotherapy. One of the tests was a pregnancy test.

The results of the pregnancy test were astonishing — I was pregnant!

To say I was in shock is to grossly understate events. In my emotional and psychological trauma as I prepared to go through breast surgery I had become inconsistent and somewhat relaxed with my birth control program. My husband and I had also become more intimate because I was undergoing severe emotional insecurity.

If one visits a hospital for treatment and the doctor discovers that you are expectant, the news is normally relayed with a wide smile. That was not the case here.

I had not understood the extent of the doctor’s predicament until I was called for counseling.

The whole medical team was thrown into confusion. I had not understood the extent of the doctor’s predicament until I was called for counseling. I was given all the facts and the options available. Cytotoxic drugs used during chemotherapy affect the development of the unborn baby and can cause extensive permanent defects to the baby. That meant if I chose to carry the baby to term, I would not start chemotherapy until after delivery. My mind was blank: I was incapacitated and was unable to arrive at a decision at all. The medical team on the other hand could not do anything until my husband and I had made a decision on the way forward.

Terminating the pregnancy

My husband was called from Mombasa. The option of terminating the pregnancy arose in our discussions but he was firm about his wish to keep the baby and I agreed with him. Not because I was in the right frame of mind to do so but because I trusted his judgement. I was discharged from hospital and asked to return for periodic observation.

I went home distressed and with severely mixed feelings. I was happy I had the courage to carry the pregnancy to term and my husband was by my side. On the other hand, the thought of cancer spreading in my body for the next several months petrified me. I would have wanted to begin treatment on the same day and get rid of this illness that was stealthily eating away my body.

I had sleepless nights, my spirits so low I could have been lifeless

I kept thinking I would die from cancer before the baby was born or the disease would affect my unborn child and I would get a deformed and sickly child. I had sleepless nights, my spirits so low I could have been lifeless. The stress and the cancer were taking their toll. It was virtual death before death. This became a time for prayer for me. I asked God to give me strength at least for the sake of the life growing in me. I looked to God daily for a miracle and kept hoping that the cancer would go away.

Then one day in December 2004, during the eighth week, I started bleeding. I thought my periods had started but then I remembered I was pregnant. The bleeding was heavier than I had ever experienced and I noticed a creamish substance in the blood. I rushed to hospital.

I had lost my baby

The doctor acted quickly. An examination revealed that I had miscarried. It took a while before it registered that I had lost my baby. My husband, relatives and friends consoled me, though it was a strange anti-climax and I was not sure whether this was a curse or a blessing.

I have successfully gone through the six courses of chemotherapy as required. After the first course I woke up one morning and looked at myself in the mirror. I thought all the hair would fall off at once! I have lost all of my once treasured hair bit by bit.

I encourage friends, spouses and relatives of cancer patients to support them physically and morally as much as they can. Talking about it brings so much relief.

Mwanamisi passed away a few months after narrating this story to Pregnant Magazine. May her soul rest in eternal peace, Amen.

 

END: PG 1/26-28