As I recall, I was having a coughing fit, and I thought I was getting myself a dose of the 'flu'. I was holding my chest in both hands as the coughing was quite sore, when I seemed to feel a small lump in my right breast, but thought nothing of it. Fortunately for me, I mentioned it to my wife Margaret, and she immediately had me booked in to our local GP. I thought to myself: 'Here she goes -- over reacting again -- it's only a little lump ...'
My GP examined me and immediately arranged for me to have a breast X-ray, and an ultrasound. I must say that the X-Ray was something else -- I was wishing I was built like Dolly Parton, instead of being the slightly built male that I was.
The doctor carrying out the ultrasound apparently was not happy with what he was seeing, and he telephoned my GP to ask for permission to do what I heard him describe as a 'fine needle biopsy'. All this of course meant nothing to me, however I was starting to get very apprehensive. The medical jargon that I was listening to meant very little, but when my GP got the results, he arranged for me to see a specialist who, after looking at all the results and examining me, told me that I had breast cancer.
I could not believe this, and in fact did not want to believe it. I wondered how this could have happened to me. I recalled that in 1951, as part of the Occupation Force of Japan, I had visited Hiroshima several times and I wondered if this could have been the cause. There is no cancer in my family.
My mind was in turmoil. Cancer ... impossible! I knew that only women got breast cancer ... didn't they?
My wife, Margaret, had in fact had stomach cancer in 1985 and had been treated for this. I felt that I had been supportive of her. Now, it was payback time -- all the effort that I had put in to supporting Margaret with her stomach cancer was returned a hundred fold, with Margaret supporting me.
The specialist advised me that he was going to operate, and told me that either "he would just take a sample" or "a mastectomy may be required". I was numb. I really don't think that any of this was sinking in.
Finally the day came and I was admitted to hospital. My family were very supportive, with my two children taking the day off work and joining my wife in the hospital.
I was taken to the Operating Theatre at 1.30 in the afternoon, and when I still hadn't returned to the ward by 6 pm that evening, the family suspected the worst, and indeed I had a mastectomy.
During the days that I was in hospital I saw people who I later understood were counsellors visiting the rooms with ladies who had undergone a mastectomy operation. I felt upset by the fact that I had gone through the same operation but there seemed to be no support for me -- even the brochures on the front desk were all directed to women.
I was however visited by friends, one of whom had been through a double mastectomy, and I was helped by her humour. I seem to remember her saying something like: "You show me yours, and I'll show you mine."
After I left the hospital, I returned to my volunteer job with the local Community Radio Station, where I had been a Lecturer in procedures, protocols and presentation to a class of some 30 students. When I returned to the Lecture room, I found that nobody would meet my eye, or look me in the face. So I decided to confront the situation head on and told the class exactly what had happened to me, and this seemed to have the effect of releasing their tensions.
My tensions however were still with me. I couldn't have a shower near Margaret for example, and I had taken to wearing a singlet so that my shirt would not rub on the operation scar (I still wear a singlet).
At this time, I was still in denial, refusing to accept what I knew to be true, and became very depressed. Arrangements were made for me to have a talk with a counsellor from the Cancer Council WA and this was the first time that I was able to ask questions and get answers. This is when I began to accept the situation.
I attended a six week Breast Cancer awareness course at the Cancer Council. For some reason I again became very depressed, and mentioned this to Margaret. She spoke to the Cancer Nurse Educator who arranged for me to have a counselling session. Part of my problem it seems is that I was not 'in control' of the situation, which for me was unusual. I'd been used to making decisions as a Warrant Officer during military service, and in my Civilian occupation a Domestic Airlines Sales and Marketing Supervisor. This realisation helped me to lift myself from my depression.
I threw myself back to work in my volunteer occupations, lecturing in communications at the local State Emergency Service Headquarters, taking a position as Senior Vice-President of the local Sub Branch of the RSL, and spent lots of time at the Community Radio Station, carrying out administrative tasks, and preparing and presenting programs.
Four years have gone by since the discovery of my cancer, and I am now able to attend the Cancer Support Group and talk with other people openly about my situation. I don't try to hide the fact that I am a male who has had a mastectomy for breast cancer.
I do however resent the fact that I was unable to get any real help at the time that I needed it. Time has healed things somewhat, and I am glad that things are happening to make others aware of the male breast cancer.
--Norman
