Why i cherish every day
When Vera Ora – psychiatrist and mother of pop superstar Rita – was diagnosed with breast cancer, she learned a very powerful lesson about listening to and loving her body
Cancer survivor and swimwear model – singer Rita Ora’s mother vera loves living in the moment
After everything I’ve been through, the last thing I ever thought I’d be asked to do is model swimwear.
I’m 55, I work as a psychiatrist in the NHS, I’m a mum of three who’s had a mastectomy and reconstructive surgery after being diagnosed with breast cancer. My initial reaction to the modelling request was, “Why me? I’m not a model.” My next thought was, “Why not me?” And precisely because of everything I have been through, I knew I had to say yes.
With summer almost here, I can guarantee that some of you will already
be stressing about stripping down to your bikini or swimming costume, putting pressure on yourself to look a certain way on the beach. It makes me sad that instead of just enjoying the feeling of the sun on our skin, too many women are crippled by the feeling they don’t look good enough. I have learned the hard way to truly appreciate what my body does. It doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy dressing up and I go to the gym regularly to stay in shape, but ever since doctors told me I was clear of breast cancer, I treasure every day.
To understand where I'm coming from, let me tell you my story. I was diagnosed with breast cancer when
I was just 39. It was a difficult time from the very beginning. Ten years earlier my husband Nick and I had brought our children, Rita, then one, and Elena, three, to the UK from Kosovo. We left because it was becoming a tense and dangerous place to live, but I found it very hard to leave behind my family, friends and career as a GP.
I arrived in the UK unable to speak English, therefore unable to work – and we had nothing. I stayed at home with the children while Nick worked long hours to support us. Later, I had our son Don, and loved being a mum, but my confidence had crumbled. I finally got work as a waitress to improve my English, in the hope of eventually being able to work as a medic again.
But I started to sense it wasn’t just my self-esteem that was troubling me. My left breast felt strange, though I couldn’t say what was wrong with it. I had no lump or family history of breast cancer. I finally got the courage to go into
a walk-in clinic and asked for a mammogram. The GP dismissed me saying, “You’re a young woman with no symptoms. It’s very unlikely that there’s anything wrong with you.”
I don’t know what came over me but I remember hitting the table and telling him I had a pain, even though I didn’t. I knew it was the only way he would pay attention. He didn’t examine me – just gave me a form and I booked myself in to be tested there and then. After the mammogram, I had a call the next day to let me know they’d identified a calcification that was highly suspicious. My nightmare had become a reality. A biopsy showed I had stage 3 cancer. I needed a mastectomy and an operation to remove 15 lymph nodes, three of which were cancerous.
For me everything exploded. I beat myself up, saying if only I had listened to my body sooner and gone to the doctor four or five months earlier, maybe I would have needed half the treatment. I was a volcano of stress, anxiety and despair. My world was crushed, and I was so scared for me and my family. My husband had to tell Rita, Elena and Don that Mum was ill because I simply couldn’t.
I was completely numb, physically and emotionally. I didn’t want people to know I was ill, and still tried to look nice, but of course it shows in your skin colour. I needed chemotherapy, but hoped to keep as much of my hair as possible, so I used a cold cap during the treatment. There was still hair loss, though, and while I couldn’t get on with wigs, I wore a white cap that I hoped looked stylish.
The children noticed my physical appearance changing, and it became really quiet at home. There always used to be music and dancing and I enjoyed entertaining – but all that stopped. I stayed in my bedroom and when I came out, I’d see my children looking at me with sad, questioning looks on their faces.
But then something changed.
Despite the chemo, I told myself, “If I have life, I have to live.” I promised myself I would pass my medical language exam to work in the UK. I worked so hard and took the >>
exam while I was still going through treatment. When they said I had passed I felt so proud. you know when the soil is dark and as spring comes you have one flower that pokes its head up, and you wonder if there are other flowers underneath as well? that is how I felt. I was so happy. I felt I’d regained something of myself. after six months of chemotherapy, then radiotherapy, I was put on tamoxifen for five years.
When I was given the all-clear I was so thrilled to be alive I tried not to think so much about how I looked. I had chosen not to have reconstruction and although I struggled with my femininity I thought, “that’s fine, I’m alive!” I couldn’t bear the thought of doctors operating on me again.
It did bother me though. after the operation I wouldn't look down at myself. I wore nice roll-necked tops and always slept in a bra. If I wore a v-neck I would always have my hand to my neck and it was hard wearing swimming costumes.
nick was always very attentive to me and told me constantly how attractive I was and gave me compliments. But one day he said, “Don’t do it for me – I think you’re beautiful – but if it’s making you unhappy, why don’t you have a reconstruction?” I decided he could be right and spoke to my doctor about surgery. It was a big operation but once I started to recover it was the best thing I have ever done. It made me feel amazing.
Choosing swimwear after a mastectomy and reconstruction can be difficult because of painful scarring, and you don’t want it to be too low cut.
When I saw melissa Odabash had made a range for women who have had breast cancer, I wrote to congratulate her. she’s the queen of swimwear design for celebrities and Hollywood a-listers, so when she asked me to model it I was so flattered. It felt fabulous. she understands what women who have had breast cancer need because her sister is a survivor. the collection is in conjunction with amoena, who specialise in underwear and swimwear for those who have had the illness. thirty per cent of the proceeds go to breast cancer charity Future Dreams. I have become an ambassador for them. I know how it feels not to be confident in your body, but summer is about spending time with our families and friends, and getting outside and enjoying the weather. It is not about wasting time worrying about not having a model-girl physique. It is important as women to be happy with who we are, not just dependent on what we look like. there is so much pressure today, especially from social media, but please live in the moment. you are here, you are healthy. Cherish what you have – and style it out! w&h
Shop the swimwear at amoena.com/ uk-en. To find out more about the charity, go to futuredreams.org.uk
‘I couldn’t bring myself to tell the children’