Te Aroha shares her cancer diary (Part 4)
My dad living in New Zealand came over the day I found out. When he arrived I ran to him and fully broke down.
I sat on his lap and buried my head in his chest. I felt like a kid again; that feeling every daughter gets when they hug their dad and it makes everything better. (I’m a major daddy’s girl with both my dads, so I’d like to leave that conversation and that moment I had with them to ourselves.) The conversations with them were the hardest I have ever had.
My family live all around New Zealand and Australia so I couldn’t tell them all in person, but I wish I could have.
Before I made the first phone call, I tried to gather my thoughts and pull myself together. The words “BREAST CANCER” coming out of my mouth still felt so raw to me. It made me cringe and tear up again. After a few moments of thinking I finally built up enough courage and made my first phone call.
The first person I called was my birth mum.
“Mum, are you busy?”
She said she wasn’t although I knew she was at work.
“I have something to tell you. Are you by yourself? Can you sit down? I need to tell you something. I got my results back and I have cancer.”
After what felt like two minutes of complete silence, my mum responded:
“Hun, I didn’t expect to hear that, I didn’t think I was going to hear you say that.”
I could tell by her voice my mum wanted to cry. Our conversation was brief; she asked me how I was and what the plan was from here then said she’d call me later. I put the phone down and just sat there, feeling completely blank. The words ‘I have cancer’ had just come out of my mouth. Every time that happened, it sunk in a little bit more.
Later I found out why my mum had hung up so fast. The phone back on the hook, she had dissolved. That’s why she was in such a hurry to get off the phone – she didn’t know how I would have reacted and didn’t want to make me feel even worse. It was, by far, the most awkward conversation I’ve ever had – she didn’t know what to say, and I didn’t know what to say either.
*
The next person I told was my younger sister. I thought telling her would be a little easier because growing up she had always been the strong, tough sister - nothing could rock her.
“Are you busy? Can we talk? You might want to sit down… I got some results back from my doctor today and I have cancer.”
“What the heck, you’re joking right?!”
“I honestly wish I was but I’m being serious – I have cancer.”
My sister started crying and all of a sudden, it hit me. It was so real – I actually did have breast cancer. I started crying too, as if it were the first time I heard the news. It was a painful reminder that I wasn’t dreaming; this conversation was actually happening.
“So what’s going to happen?”
I told her everything I knew: I didn’t have all the answers but I’d soon be doing chemo and then everything would be fine.
“How can it be fine? You have cancer.”
“I believe everything will be ok, and it will.”
She continued to cry on the phone. I knew she was completely broken. She told me:
“Yah (my family nickname), everyone we know that has had cancer died. I’ve seen it first-hand. We both have, and it’s not good.”
I told her I knew what we had seen, but that this time it would be different.
**
The third person I spoke to was my older sister. Again, this was such a difficult conversation to have; she was a mother figure to me throughout my teenage years. Luckily she lives in Auckland, so I was able to tell her face-to-face.
I called her to find out whether she was free to come over. She sensed it was something serious and grew concerned, asking me what it was. I said I’d tell her when we saw each other. She started sobbing.
When she walked in the door, it was obvious she’d been crying. She looked at me and knew I had been too.
“What is it?”
New tears were rolling down her cheeks. Somehow, between tears, I managed to utter the words ‘it came back positive, I have breast cancer’.
She buried her face in her hands. We cried for a bit together and then I showed her some pamphlets that explained the type of cancer I have and what the next steps were.
***
When I told my parents and siblings, I asked that they keep it to themselves because I was still trying to process the news myself and I didn’t feel like everyone needed to know. I also felt that if people knew they might act differently around me, and I didn’t want that – I’m still the same person, I just have this thing called cancer.
My husband broke the news to his parents and siblings while I waited a few days to tell my close-knit friends and family members. When I told them, I was in a much better head space and felt a little more comfortable talking about it. (As comfortable as you can be with this kind of news.)
They all had different reactions: crying, blank faces, speechless…They wondered why I wasn’t crying – I explained I was all out of tears but honestly felt in my heart that everything was going to be fine.
It was a bit of a rollercoaster, but I got there in the end.
Sending positive vibes to you all.
God bless.
TA
xx