Carina Vorster, Team Member
2 year survivor.
Diagnosed: 2008. Age: 36.
“It’s my life. Make it happen!”
‘A living, walking time bomb’ …
Our family history of breast cancer (in both males and females), labelled me as a good candidate for breast cancer at a young age. From the age of 18 it was routine for me to do scanning every year. Then we did a DNA marker test. The test confirmed my risk for BRACA 2 family cancer.
I was scheduled to have a bilateral mastectomy for preventative measures within 3 months, BUT then the phone call came after my last scans … I was diagnosed with breast cancer ... we waited too long before we took preventative action.
My family & I were waiting for this to happen all my life. ‘Let’s fight IT.’
I knew from that moment onwards that a lot was going to change. A picture pops into my mind of people whispering that she is the lady with Cancer. Fear & reality kick in at the same moment.
Am I going to die? What is my survival rate? Information about all the treatment options each with new risks for new diseases. ‘It is your decision.’ It’s my body. I was scared. Scared to make the wrong decision. Scared to make the right decision and still die. I am losing my breasts, my business, and my bra and maybe even my husband! My dad is walking this path for the third time: His wife, his mother & now his daughter.
Preparations for the big day.
We had only 3 days before our mastectomy date. “Our date”, because yes, it affected my whole family. A dear friend & I did a quick photo shoot of “show me your boob” to capture the colour of the areola. We even matched it with a dulux paint chart! (Will use it with reconstruction later on).
My little daughter was 3 years. We believe in fantasies. So we bought each an identical crystal to carry around our necks. The fantasy? The rainbow a crystal creates calls the fairies. They will bring us closer together while we are apart.
Crazy things like shark cage or sky diving became very attractive for me; I wanted to feel ‘alive’ before the big day. I read “How to kill my husband” while we travelled to the doctors. Humour kept me going. The taste of courage in my war paint – red lipstick. This battle I plan to win, lipstick and all!
Mother Nature was as furious on the day of my double mastectomy … strong winds & lots of rain. She was weeping with me. I was comforted by nature’s empathy. In tears I asked my reconstructive plastic surgeon ‘Please make me beautiful again.’ After that, the volume of the music in theatre was turned on high. I awoke to a new life.
Acceptance in courage and humour.
My attitude towards life changed after my surgery. Before my breast cancer diagnoses I was lurching from one task to another like a zombie, cramming yesterday’s exhaustion into tomorrow’s obligations. Preoccupied with fulfilling the needs of someone or something else. I floated along. And during those rare instances when I was not multi-tasking with my hands, I was multi-tasking in my head. Living my life in anticipation of approval - someone else’s or my own. It was not an ordinary life. It was lunacy!
I could only find my balance in life after I had completely lost it. When I was so frazzled that life seemed like an out-of-body experience. During the period of my treatment for cancer, I mourned every day’s minute precious moments like being able to drive my daughter to school. I realised what a waste of time all my pursuits had been when held up to the one thing I am privileged to do each day. Live. I let go of the ghosts of my past. Begone and good riddance.
Back to basics.
I believe in magic in the ordinary. Bare foot. To enjoy the other side of silence like my little girl’s giggle, raindrops, purring cats, a sigh of contentment and a grateful gasp of relief from my hubby. To bring romance into the smallest, most ordinary moments. An approving glance, a warm smile, an unexpected compliment – every day in many ways Life flirts with us.
To allow myself my feelings. To laugh & cry easily if it touches that sweet spot in me. (Someone once said: ‘One does not apologize for tears; it is the antifreeze of the soul’). I am positive with wild ‘what the heck’ moments! I am not thinking; I am feeling my way through life.
Good vibrations.
My motorbike, my butterfly, my plaster was bought while I was still busy with treatments & operations. We hid my new hobby in my friend’s garage until I had the courage to tell my dad. He is not so fond of motorcycles. The challenge of learning to ride my bike was/is the best medicine.
Butterflies remind me of how delicate life is. To spread my wings & live bold; follow my dreams, be colourful, free & to focus on every day’s magic. Like a butterfly I went through different changes with my cancer journey. Changes are ok – it is part of who I am.
For me ‘Journey of Hope’ is like a CPR breathing event: To do something very bold, very exhilarating, and pass the energy along. Be infectious. Be as healthy, as vibrant, as beautiful, and as authentic as I possibly can be, in a way that speaks silently to others. ‘You can do this to.’
It is my way of returning a gift… Share a smile at other women’s dreams and their hopes, and reassure them. So often the emotion we shy away from or try to stifle is hope. Am I even allowed to hope? To be beautiful again; sexy & whole…
There is no educating book to tell you what to do when you have breast cancer. You are strong. You did not choose this. It happened to you. None of us have proof that we are going to be cancer free. Proof is in the future & the future is not yet here. It’s my life!
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