Heart and Soul: Finding Strength in the Storm

SJMC patient Susan Chandy shares her inspiring cancer journey, celebrating tumour remission after a series of treatments and emotional ups and downs.  

The writer (with flowers) photographed with the kind and attentive nurses at the Oncology Daycare Centre after seven months of chemotherapy and immunotherapy treatment. 

You never truly know how strong you are until life tests you in ways you never imagined. For me, that test came in the form of a cancer diagnosis – an aggressive type that demanded immediate action.

Just after my 59th birthday, I woke up to an unexpected pain in my upper arm. Initially, I brushed it off, but when the pain persisted, instinct led me to massage my upper torso. That’s when I felt it – a small lump in my left breast.

The next day at my GP, she recommended a mammogram, “just in case”. And that’s when the fear set in.

At Subang Jaya Medical Centre, Dr D, a young but deeply compassionate breast surgeon, recommended both a mammogram and an ultrasound.

What followed was a blur – two suspicious lumps were discovered, and a biopsy was necessary.

The waiting period that followed was agonising. My mind raced with questions. Even as I tried to continue working as a teacher, the weight of the unknown loomed over me.

The day of truth arrived as Dr D’s words – triple-negative breast cancer – sent a chill down my spine.

“Cancer today isn’t what it used to be,” she said. “If detected early, there’s every chance of a cure.” She quickly connected me with Dr Y, a highly experienced oncologist from the same hospital.

Breaking the heartbreaking news to my family, we grappled with unanswered questions, yet a quiet resolve began to grow.

Cancer had entered my life uninvited, but I refused to let it define me. This was the beginning of a battle I never expected to fight, but one I was determined to face head-on.

At Dr Y’s office, my sister was by my side, asking all the important questions. Dr Y laid out the road ahead – eight cycles of chemo­therapy and immunotherapy, followed by surgery and radiotherapy.

The weight of chemotherapy’s challenges loomed, but with no alternative, I committed to the fight.

Grateful for six months of hospital leave by my school management, I still felt guilty leaving my students before their exams.

The first day of treatment arrived. At the Oncology Daycare Centre, I met Sister L, a nurse whose gentle voice and reassuring presence put me at ease. My husband sat beside me, offering silent support as we entered the oncology ward – a space filled with nearly 30 other patients.

I was taken aback by how many people were on this same journey, each fighting their own battle. Yet, amidst the beeping machines and hurried footsteps of nurses, there was a shared strength in the room.

The nurses were angels in disguise – tireless, compassionate and skilled. They made an overwhelming process feel just a little lighter. I was hooked up to an IV line, the powerful drugs coursing through my veins over a long nine-hour session. Thankfully, strong anti-nausea medication kept the worst side effects at bay.

As my family took turns accompanying me to treatment, I felt incredibly lucky, realising how much kindness and connection truly matter.

Each chemotherapy session left me drained, but the real challenge came days later when the nausea set in.

At first, I convinced myself it wasn’t too bad – this feels just like being pregnant, I thought. But then my hair soon started to fall out, leaving me despondent. That wasn’t the worst of it. As I entered the second phase of treatment, everything changed for the worse.

The new combination of drugs took a harsher toll on my body. Sores formed in my mouth, making eating painful. My sense of taste vanished, leaving meals unappealing. Worst of all, neuropathy crept in – my hands and feet tingled with numbness, keeping me awake at night.

Twice, I found myself rushing to the hospital, gripped by chest pain, fearing a heart attack – only to be told it was severe heartburn.

Through it all, my faith became my anchor. I turned to God in prayer daily, and the strong support from my church community lifted my spirit in ways I never expected. Their prayers and kind words gave me strength, reminding me that I was never alone in this fight.

One thing that also brought me great comfort were my cats and dog. The nurses had warned me not to keep animals in the house during chemotherapy, but I didn’t listen.

The joy and solace my furry companions brought me were too precious to give up. The simple act of petting and being around my beloved pets was healing in its own way.

After six long months of chemotherapy, the day I had been waiting for finally arrived – I had made it through. The gruelling treatments were behind me, and it was time to take the next step: surgery.

Returning to Dr D’s office, I held my breath as she examined me. Then came the news that filled me with hope – the tumours had shrunk significantly. The surgery itself went smoothly, and to my amazement, I was discharged the very next day.

Then came the moment of truth. My histopathology report confirmed it – the tumours were gone. The words felt surreal, a testament to the strength, faith and love that had carried me through.

My journey isn’t over yet. Tears, frustrations, sleepless nights are all bound to find their way into my life. But I stand here, stronger than ever, knowing that I will endure. I will overcome. And I will walk forward with gratitude, faith and boundless hope.

Source: The Star