Shanghai Voices: I Have Cancer

Brian Milbrook

Three words you never want to have to say. Three small words, so hard to get out, that will change your life forever: I have cancer.

That was me 18 months ago. I just went in for an endoscopy to check out a grumbly stomach. The last thing I remember is the masked nurse with beautiful, kind eyes stroking my arm to get the thick anaesthetic moving through my veins. I woke up woozy and the doctor came in with the results, a tumour which...

Didn’t see that coming, didn’t expect that at all. Heard him but couldn’t really concentrate. Cancer. Did he really say that?

His voice floated back into focus “...can’t compromise your survival...” Survival! I crash back to earth. I need to survive this. Stay alive. Not die.

During my tests, I asked questions, scoured the web, found an online support group, and began to acquire calming perspective. Knowledge gave me strength, determination, and once treatment started I had a goal. A big one, granted: to be free of cancer. But one on which to focus all my energy and attention throughout the difficult months ahead.

Well, after 11 months of treatment, I am still here. I don’t know if those were the longest or shortest months of my life – they seem to have flown by and yet, looking back, it seems an eternity. I feel as if I lost a year of my life, though in truth I was so very much alive throughout. It was one of the most intense times I have lived, never more conscious of life and fighting to hang on to it.

I learned many things but one stands out: cancer is far harder for carers than for us patients. Sounds perverse perhaps, but coming to terms with thoughts of death was surprisingly easy. After all it will happen one day, never at the right time, and in the meantime there’s much to do: fight the disease, sort affairs, make your peace.

What got me through was the love and support of family and friends. From the endless love and selfless care of my wonderful wife to the small but powerful words of comfort in emails, text messages, cards, phone calls that punctured the smothering fog that enveloped me. Words that brought me life-giving belief, love, smiles and energy.

We know cancer is a physical disease, but in truth it afflicts the mind as much as the body. It wants to bring you down, because then your body is easy game. And it preys on your closest ones as much if not more than on you.

Readily and naturally most people offered me sympathy & support. But this generosity taught me something painful too. That many of the same people didn’t realise how hard this was for my wife and almost ignored her in their kindness to me.

She had to cope with looking after me 24/7, through physical and emotional highs and lows during 11 hard months of treatment. She also had to deal with the turmoil of her own emotions: fighting to save me but not knowing if all her efforts could make any difference. Facing the possibility I may not be there much longer and all that could mean for her.

So, the next time you come across someone with cancer, reach out to them of course. But then make sure you extend an equally warm, caring hand to their carer. You’ll be helping more than you know.

I still have my life, thank heaven. It’s not what it was but no bad thing that. Cancer no longer defines me, though it did for a time. And I have to watch out for the beast coming back for another go. But this time I’m ready.

Ready for a fight, the fight of my life.

Shanghai Voices is a new monthly column that features the stories of our readers – straight from their own pen. If you have a story you would like to tell, please send an email to [email protected]. We look forward to hearing your voice!