December 19, 2012

• Tumor.

  She walked slowly. Eyes gazed downward. Arms overlapping each other in front of her, as if she was trying to stop herself from shivering. She had on a black cardigan jacket. Upon seeing me, she gave a slight appreciative smile.

  “You came” she said, as she approached and took a seat right opposite from me, at the far right corner of her tiny shop. She was expecting me. I promised her that I’d stop by at her shop on Sunday afternoon to see her. I knew that Sundays are the least busy period at her shop and so we would have more time to converse and relax.

  Around us were dozens upon dozens of bags. Brown, beige, black, red, green, and few other shades in between. All piled, stacked, and arranged in rows and at various levels. Some hung on the bare white wall, some placed on open shelves. Stand close enough to the bags, one may recognize them and associate them with brand names like Bottega, Channel, Loewe, Louise Vuitton, and many others I’m not familiar with. They all imitation, but made with a first rate quality. All imported from Guangzhou, where she frequently visits every two or three months to place new orders to restock her inventory.

  Up close, her face was rather pale. She seemed tired. Her usual warm welcoming demeanor was not present. She was silent as she was adjusting herself to a more comfortable seating position.

  “Here. What you asked for”. I handed over a duty-free bag from Singapore airport. The bag was heavy. Inside, a 1-litre bottle of gin. “You drink this stuff?” I asked.
  “No, it's for my mum” she replied. “She needs it to soak some raisins that she’ll eat periodically for health”.
  “Oh, I see. I really thought you drink that stuff” I said with a smirk.
  She smiled. Slightly. She handed me the money she owed me for the gin. She seemed hesitant to talk.
  “So, how are you?” I continued, as I put my wallet back into my jeans’ left back pocket.
  She gave a weak sigh, then slowly said “I haven’t been well. For a while now. I had a sur…”. Her words came to a halt. Suddenly, she covered her mouth with a white tissue paper she had grasped in her left hand since I saw her. Like she was about to choke on something. Her eyes started to turn red and few drops of tears started to trickle down her cheeks. I was alarmed, not comprehending what was happening. It took a few seconds for her to gain her composure.
  “Sorry, didn't mean to be like this”. Her voice was coarse. She stopped for few seconds to dry her eyes, and then continued “I had a surgery. My breast was removed”.
  I was stunned. I just sat there. Staring at her. Speechless.

  She went on to explain that it happened about a couple of weeks ago, a few days after our weekend gathering with the guys in our group and me sharing snacks and photos from my Japan trip. She already made the appointment when she saw us that weekend, but chose not to tell any one of us for she did not want us to worry. She was laughing along with the rest of us, having a good time. If she was worried, she did a great job of not showing it. She did not want to make a big deal out of her appointment, for at the time she also did not expect her situation to be that serious. She had no idea what was coming.

  It all started when she felt pain in her right breast, near her chest area. She went to a doctor for a check-up. This is her second check-up this year. Back in April, I accompanied her for her very first total health screening. She never done it before because she feared the worst. She is in her forties, and due to everyone’s insistence she decided to have one. The outcome of this health screening showed a somewhat abnormal result. They found a tiny noncancerous gland in her right breast, as well as a small lump on the other side of the same breast. However, the doctor that explained her test result did not seem to give a sense of seriousness on the matter and so she thought it was nothing to be concerned about. She thought wrong.

  After the test result on her second check-up came out, her doctor confirmed that it was in fact a small tumor. That was on the day she had the appointment after our gathering. It was believed that the tumor still in its early stage, thus yet to spread. The doctor recommended the removal of the tumor, and she approved. Little that she know, it meant that she had to loose her whole right breast. She was shocked when she found out. She thought it would be a simple operation to remove the tumor without a great damage to her breast. But she had no choice. It had to be done this way.

  The whole time she explained herself to me, she broke into tears on and off. She seemed so frail to me. Drained of any energy left in her, she still tried hard to remain calm and strong. My heart sunk so low I had no words of consolation. It was such an unexpected turn of conversation on a mellow sunny Sunday. Each time she mentioned of the removal of her right breast, I couldn’t help but to gaze at her chest. It looked fine. Normal. She sensed my confusion and said “I’m wearing a silicon”.

  It took her a week after her surgery before she braved herself to get out of the house. The first thing she did was to buy silicon to stuff into her bra to substitute for her missing right breast. It is something to get used to, she confessed. She still feels some pain, for her skin is still healing. And so she needs time before she would go out and hang out with the guys again. She mentioned how she plans on purchasing the expensive custom-made bra designed especially for women with her condition. One that she would wear when she returns to her weekly aerobic class routine.

  She made me promised not to say a single word to anyone in our group of friends. She is yet ready to explain to everyone of what she had just gone through. It is safe to assume that she is still in a shock and have not fully accepted her fate. I’m sure it is also a severe humiliation for a woman to loose her breast. I wanted to reach out my arms and hold her. To console her. To tell her that everything is going to be all right. But I too was in a state of shock. And she still felt some pain on the skin of her right chest. And so I did not. I stayed with her until it was time for her to close her shop, and then took her home.

  This 2012 had not been a good year for her. She lost both of her father and grandmother this year. It took a while for her to be herself again after that. And when things seemed to be going great, THIS happened. She deserves more than this. She deserves to be happy. I’m worried for her. I wish I know what to do. There must be something. But what?

  • 10:17 pm
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