Life in my body… with stage three breast cancer
Nisha Singh, 32, had a double mastectomy as part of her treatment
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could see the rain dripping down the windows outside, as I lay feeling super content on the sofa, the hum of Netflix on the TV. I have two sausage dogs and, for once, they didn’t want to go for a walk, instead they jumped up on to my chest for a snuggle. But as they did, I felt something niggle in my boob – I had this gut feeling that something wasn’t right. Looking back, it’s incredible how everything can change in one moment; your entire life pivots in an instant.
I jumped up, cupping my breasts in my hands, comparing them to each other. I could feel something firm that I could wrap my fingers around in my right breast. I have large boobs and have always had lumps in them, but this felt different, like it shouldn’t be there.
What followed was a blur of appointments, an ultrasound, three biopsies and a mammogram. Then finally, about two months after that rainy night, I was diagnosed with grade three breast cancer that had also spread to my lymph nodes. Stage three meant that it was the fastest growing kind of cancer and a double mastectomy – the removal of breast tissue, areola and my nipples – alongside chemo and radiotherapy was my best chance of recovery.
Some women opt to go flat, but I went with reconstruction. I hope to live a long life, and I want to feel confident. But my breasts will never be the same again. My right breast, where the tumour was, is a lot smaller than my left.
This illness has stripped me of my body and my energy. Psychologically, it’s a huge adjustment. I still grieve for the body parts that I’ve lost. My breasts were a big part of my identity; they made me feel powerful. There are times when it’s hard to go out, especially when it’s a special occasion and I need to dress up.
I’ve had four lots of surgery in three years. Each time, it feels like a part of me disappears. I’ve learned to live with it and to love myself again. I never used to worry about what other people thought of me, but now I think they compare me… like before and after.
At my first appointment in 2018, I asked where I would be in a year’s time – they couldn’t tell me. The cancer is gone, but I’m still young, so it could come back. It’s a real worry, but I know I can’t live in fear. I always think tomorrow is a new day. I take a breath, feel the air in my lungs and remember: I am here.