Robyn's Story

I can still remember minute details from the day I was diagnosed with breast cancer in August 1995. It was a magnificent spring day, the type of day that makes you beam at strangers and sing along raucously with the car radio.

Nine years later I'm enjoying perfect health and can imagine myself as a feisty old lady wearing colourful clothes, but I'll never forget the fear of confronting cancer. Although I was a couple of weeks away from my 43rd birthday, I had already had a mammogram two years earlier. My GP had advised regular screening because of a family history of breast cancer.

Small insignificant details are etched into my memory of that day. I remember how beautiful Rangitoto looked in the sunshine as I drove to my appointment and thinking "you poor woman" when another older woman was called through to the doctor's consulting rooms. I wasn't even concerned when the radiographer wanted a second picture of my right breast. And it was only when I was led to the doctor's room that I started to feel anxious.

Yes, it definitely looked like cancer. The lump was very, very small. I would probably not lose the breast, have a partial mastectomy. I sat out in the reception area, dazed and drinking tea. I felt the immediate need for the comfort of a loved one. But, my husband was travelling in the Middle East with our younger son and I wasn't even sure if they were in Turkey, Syria or Egypt. I phoned a close friend, who had gone through a radical mastectomy and reconstruction in her early 30s. We talked for a long time on the telephone and that was a great comfort. I felt marginally better when I arrived in my GP's office about an hour after receiving the result of the mammogram. My doctor was also positive and informative. I even decided I was so cool about the situation that I didn't need pills to sleep. But, in spite of an evening of heartening support from family and friends, I couldn't settle. The lump, which was so small I couldn't feel it (about 1.2 cm), became such a burning presence that I just wanted to rip it out of my chest.

The next day seemed to move in slow motion as a friend accompanied me to a clinic for the necessary tests. By late afternoon I was at home with an appointment for surgery 17 days later. Those 17 days were probably the most difficult of my life. In my rational mind I knew my prognosis was excellent and this was just a stutter in what was to be, I hoped, a long and eventful life. But anxiety kept conjuring up the very worst scenario. When the call came through it confirmed that the lump was malignant. The good news was that is was graded as the least aggressive.

It was decided that my husband would cut short his trip to his homeland, Egypt, to return for my surgery. My youngest son, who had been hanging out for this epic journey with his dad, got to see the Pyramids of Giza without a hint of trouble at home. My husband was my greatest support in the post-operative period and the experience has made our bond even stronger. It was my elder son, only 14 at the time, along with a band of marvellous women friends, who navigated me through those bleak pre-surgery days.

And ironically, the most meaningful message I received in that time came from a woman I hadn't even met. She was a friend of a friend, was a couple of years younger than me and had been through almost the same operation about a week before. Two nights before I was to front up at the hospital, she phoned me and said: "Hey, I was pleasantly surprised. The operation isn't that bad." She was right. The after-effects of the partial mastectomy were relatively pain-free. The day after the surgeon came in with the news I had expected (in my rational mind) - that there was no evidence of cancer in the lymph nodes and my prognosis was good.

With that relief behind me, I felt I could have conquered the world. But, I was then frustrated by a 15 week wait for radiotherapy. Sadly, the situation at Auckland Hospital doesn't seem much better nearly a decade on. Apart from a mild skin irritation and the need for a siesta each day (the tiredness was possibly more psychological than physical) I suffered no side effects. I was really humbled by the atmosphere in the radiotherapy unit - a real sense of camaraderie and caring from the staff.

In the early days following my breast cancer experience, I didn't really want to get involved with the breast cancer cause and like many women, just wanted to put the experience behind me. By 1998 I felt I was ready to join other Kiwi women in the fight against breast cancer and wrote a piece on my own experience for the New Zealand Herald during Breast Cancer Awareness Month. This article led to my nearly five year stint as editor of Upfront and probably a lifetime commitment to informing women about breast cancer - most likely on a grassroots level, such as advice over a cup of coffee and rustling friends along for their regular "squeeze."

The last paragraph of that Herald article still conveys the way I feel now, in 2004 as a healthy and happy 51-year-old, "And when I look at my own sons, I'm awfully glad that I had a mammogram on that lovely spring afternoon."

(Robyn Yousef has been a key player in BCN, being Editor of UPFRONT from 1999 to 2003. A freelance writer, she works from her Auckland home, but born in Otago, considers herself a 'true Mainlander'. Her first job was as a reporter on Dunedin's Evening Star where she worked for two years before her big OE in 1973. Plans for trekking through Europe were sidelined when Robyn met an Egyptian engineering student in London and later flew to Cairo to be married. After weeks of mind-blowing culture shock, she grew to love Egypt and remains happily married to the same Egyptian, managing to haul him back to New Zealand in 1978. After working in the travel industry in Egypt, Robyn continued in this work when she returned to New Zealand, but decided in 1993 to return to writing as a freelancer. She has written for many leading New Zealand publications and wrote the book "Papakura: The Years of Progress - 1938-1996" for the Papakura & Districts Historical Society. At present Robyn is Senior Writer for the Pacific Garden Design magazine, alfresco. She can be contacted at: scribe.services@xtra.co.nz

Robyn's Story

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