Breast Cancer to Yoga - My Story
Back in 1998, I was a busy mother of two young boys aged 2 and 4 years old, doing all the usual things that you do with two young children. Life was hectic, but in a good way, as I adored spending time with them and loved the life that we had as a family.
One evening, whilst taking a bath, I noticed a pea-sized lump in the crease of my right breast but, being only 32 years old, I thought nothing of it. I kept noticing it time and time again when I bathed and happened to casually mention it to my husband who insisted that I get it checked out immediately, so I went along to see my GP. She could feel it, but wasn’t unduly concerned, telling me it was likely to be a cyst and that it was unlikely to be cancerous because of my age. However, she did refer me to a specialist for further investigations and I went along on my own to see the consultant (not concerned enough to bring my husband) and underwent an ultrasound and fine needle aspiration - where fluid from the lump was withdrawn and analysed.
A couple of days later, at which point I thought I should have my husband with me, we went back for the results. The ultrasound showed it might be a benign breast lump, but the results of the aspiration indicated that the cells were suspicious. I was told that I needed surgery to remove the lump – something called a wide local excision where a segment of breast tissue is removed to include the tumour, along with a margin of healthy tissue.
Everything happened rather quickly from that point onwards and I felt like I was being carried along in a whirlwind from one appointment to the next, feeling rather numb and just going through the motions. A few days after the surgery we were back in the consultant’s room and he gave us the news that he didn’t get a clear enough margin, so I’d need more of my breast removed. Having modestly sized breasts, the initial surgery had left me with a very disfigured right breast and with the prospect of more surgery, there was not going to be an awful lot left. This was when my surgeon raised the option of having a mastectomy as, aesthetically, it would look better and give me peace of mind that all the cancer had been removed. I remember recoiling in horror as he said the word – I’d never imagined that as a young woman I’d be considering having a mastectomy; in my eyes, this was something that happened to older women.
It was all rather surreal; I felt like I wasn’t quite there in the room and that this was happening to somebody else but tried my best to listen to what the surgeon had to say – there was so much to take on board. He offered me a subcutaneous mastectomy which would preserve the skin and nipple of the breast, as well as removing a few lymph nodes from my armpit to check the cancer hadn’t spread. He said he would operate alongside a specialist plastic surgeon who would reconstruct the breast using an implant, so there would be just one procedure and I’d wake up with a breast, which was really important to me.
I remember waking up from surgery and the first thing I did was to look down and check for a bump under my hospital gown. The nurse assured me there was a nipple there too, even if it was looking rather black and struggling to find a blood supply! My cancer was ER+ (which meant that the oestrogen in my body was stimulating the cancer to grow) so I was prescribed Tamoxifen, a drug which blocks the effect of oestrogen on the body, to reduce the chances of my cancer returning.
I stayed in hospital for five days after my surgery to allow the surgical drains to run clear and I felt that I just needed that time to rest, contemplate and regain my strength. I remember my surgeon doing his rounds after surgery and him saying to me: “You’re one of the lucky ones.” As I lay in my hospital bed, unsure of what the future held, I struggled to agree with him!
When I returned home, the first two weeks of my recovery were very frustrating, as I needed to rest a lot and wasn’t able to lift my children or even cuddle them. I felt very fragile inside and out. But the body is an amazing thing: two weeks later I was getting back into my routine of taking them to nursery school and looking after them. You come to appreciate being able to do the most precious things like hugging your children close, as well as the more mundane things like making a bed or hanging out washing, when they are momentarily taken away from you.
Gradually life returned to normal and, from a physical aspect, I was functioning well: the wounds had healed and I had a shape that resembled a breast; I still felt good about my body and I felt very loved and desired. However, I didn’t FEEL fully back to my normal self. I found that I was on the verge of tears most of the time and my patience with the boys wasn’t what it used to be – I just felt off balance and rather overwhelmed with what I’d been through. I went back to my GP and she said it was usual to feel like this after a traumatic event and wanted to refer me for counselling, but I didn’t think it was for me.
It was at this time that I discovered yoga. I had some awareness of yoga and knew that it could rebalance the body and calm the mind, so I decided to try a class at my local gym. I’d drop my little one off at nursery, dash to my class, then race back to pick him up afterwards. It sounds frantic, but those 90 minutes on my mat were my lifeline in the months following my treatment. That first yoga class ignited something within me and I knew I wanted more. It was a very strict alignment focused class, but I loved the attention to detail and the fact that I had to really concentrate so much on the pose that I couldn’t think about anything else.
I continued to practise Iyengar yoga, then moved onto the more dynamic practice of Ashtanga from which I developed a daily self-practice. I loved the flow of a vinyasa based practice – it became a meditation in itself.
Around 3 years after my diagnosis, we wanted to have another child, so I was allowed to come off Tamoxifen and in 2003 I gave birth to my third beautiful boy. Each year that has passed since 1998, I have grown to appreciate my surgeon’s words – I truly believe that I am “one of the lucky ones”.
I am now a qualified yoga teacher, specialising in teaching yoga to those affected by breast cancer. My yoga for breast cancer classes take place online via Zoom. Send me an email or visit my Instagram page for further details.