Astrid Wenke: This little cancer ain’t going to kill me…

He looked at the results and said that thing doesn’t look good. You need surgery now, and if you don’t do it now you’re not going to live more than six months.

The diagnosis

I have always been a healthy person and lived a healthy lifestyle. I was chatting with a very good friend of mine who I had known for over 35 years here in the BVI, and she said “have you heard that so and so has cancer and lost her breast”. I got so scared… I didn’t say anything about the lump that I had been feeling for a long time.

I was very frightened and figured that if I go to the doctor anywhere here they would pick up the phone and call my husband. I don’t why I thought I was any safer on Virgin Gorda but I went to the doctor there. He just took one look at me, because the lump was now so big you could see it, and said you need a biopsy immediately.

If you get cancer you don’t feel sick; when you feel sick there is no survival chance. I had absolutely no symptoms except for feeling this stupid thing. This was 17 years ago. At that time there were no oncologists here. I came home from the doctor Thursday night and my husband took me in his arms and said “darling we’re going to be leaving Monday morning on a flight to Puerto Rico”. I said “are we going shopping?”, and he said “no, we’re going to the doctor”. I asked “what’s wrong with you?” and he said “not me. You.” The doctor had called him.

Anyhow, we went to Puerto Rico Monday morning to the clinic. The biopsy was done and on Thursday afternoon I got a call from Puerto Rico that it was very advanced cancer. The lump was already three and quarter centimetres which is about an inch and a half.

Reaction to the news

Of course I was frightened. This was the same year as the 40^th anniversary of the Red Cross and I was in the middle of planning a huge celebration. So I said if I die, I’ll leave a legacy with that.

I didn’t have time to go to the doctor because I was so busy preparing for the Red Cross anniversary and sending letters to people. Lo and behold, my husband catches a fax coming in from a company saying they’d be happy to support the event. He said, “is this the reason you’re telling me that Puerto Rico has no appointments for you? You’re going for surgery now”.

The treatment

At this time, I knew they didn’t do any anesthesia at Bougainvillea Clinic but I called Dr. Tattersall because I wanted to know what he could do afterwards with the reconstruction. He told me to come over and meet a doctor visiting from London who was one of Her Majesty’s medical team. The doctor looked at the results and said that thing doesn’t look good. You need surgery now, and if you don’t do it now, you’re not going to live more than six months. That really put my head straight.

This was in the middle of April; on the 13^th of March I got the devastating news, and my project with Red Cross was on the 8^th of May. They decided over my head that I would have surgery on Tuesday the 22^nd of April, 1996. I was very scared. My biggest fear was the anesthesia, and that I would wake up and hear what the doctors were discussing.

I was well taken care of at the Bougainvillea Clinic. The surgery went well and they planted my nipple below my stomach so I would get my old nipple back when I did the reconstruction. But after a year passed I said this thing has gone to sleep now, I ain’t going to wake it up. So he took out the nipple and did some correction on the surgery and it looks very aesthetic. I lost my (left) breast but I have a very good prosthesis so you can’t tell.

Coping

I came out of the hospital on the 26^th of April and on the 8^th of May I was on stage as an emcee for the show with Dr. Tattersall and Nurse Evans sitting next to the head table with big box of medication. This was just 18 days after my surgery. I stood through the four hours, but I made it. That was my goal and I was very proud of it and it was an indication that I was willing to fight.

For me, a positive attitude is key. Have the courage to go through it. Don’t say my husband will not look at me; he won’t touch me afterwards, so I’m just going to take out the lump. You take out the lump and you can almost be sure in five years the cancer is coming back.

I had chemotherapy (but) my husband insisted from day one that I would carry on with my life. After a while when I wasn’t too up to par he would cook for me and tell me how expensive the meat was and that I had to keep it in. I was very lucky that I got my chemo here and I didn’t have to go abroad. I had all my friends around me and they didn’t allow me to feel sorry for myself.

My tests are always very good and I’m very adamant going for regular checkups. I have made it a point to be very positive because I said this little cancer ain’t going to kill me.

Advice to others

The biggest problem is a lot of men can’t cope with it. My husband was magnificent; he would make me laugh. He was there every time I went to the hospital to take out stitches and change dressing. He was right there looking over Dr. Tattersall’s shoulder to see how it looked. He coped very well.

Because of the Lions Club and being on the District Governor’s board they have cancer education as a portfolio for the entire Caribbean so I took that up for three years and gave a lot of speeches on prevention and dealing for cancer. Usually, I tell them that if your wife, your mom, your significant other is diagnosed with cancer and will lose her breast, she is still the same loving person. Her body looks a little different but you must still love her and she needs the love now more than before.

Don’t go to somebody who has cancer or who’s had surgery or chemotherapy and look at them like a hush puppy with a sad face or pity the person. This is the worst thing you can do. Do not touch the person with silk gloves. I carried on with my housework, maybe it was a bit slower and wasn’t 100% sparkly but I did it.

I have had numerous calls from doctors here in the BVI to meet with a patient who would rather die than take their breast off. I show them the pictures of how I looked during and after chemo and how I look now. Chemo isn’t as easy as it sounds but you can get over it and live a normal life; your hair will come back.