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| September (First) 2010 |
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| DELHI PRESS MAGAZINES : WOMAN'S ERA |
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WOMAN'S ERA /
FICTION (6/21) / DREAMS INTERRUPTED
Dreams Interrupted
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| More than the pain and physical discomfort of undergoing a mastectomy, it is almost a trauma that a woman suffers when a breast is surgically excised. Dealing with the problem calls for a holistic approach rather than just being sympathetic to the woman. Here’s the account of a counsellor’s first-hand experience concerned... |
| By Dr Rumy Agarwal |
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Nothing could have prepared Mallika for the shock and dismay she felt when she awoke from anaesthesia to find that one of her breasts was gone — there were only bandages where a breast had been. She was mutilated for life! For life? But she couldn’t live like this! How would she face her husband, Rajat, who had fallen in love with her in college because of her attractive face and figure? He would surely give her a divorce ... And her daughters? Gawd, they’d be so ashamed of their mother! Why, oh why, did this have to happen? What had she done to deserve so cruel a fate? (Names have been changed to protect identity)
These thoughts descended on her consciousness like an avalanche when she opened her eyes in the sterile, antiseptic atmosphere of the private ward in one of the city’s best nursing homes. She felt the pressure of Rajat’s hand on hers, and looked up into his smiling face.
He must surely be putting on an act, she thought. She turned her face away and the tears rolled down, unabated. Mallika shut her eyes tightly, while the tears rolled into her ears and onto her pillow.
Mallika had undergone a mastectomy (i.e., surgical removal of the breast) for treatment of breast cancer and her attending doctor had suggested psychological counselling to help her deal with the trauma. Thus, she became one of my counselees, and it was through her that I learnt about the nightmare, that is, mastectomy.
She became my teacher in many ways — she taught me to empathise and bond with a mastectomised woman without feeling pity for her; she tutored me in the art of coping with this major stress without coming unstuck; she showed me that, with grit and gumption, a woman could cock a snook at the raw deals of life and come out a survivor. Yes, at the end of the day, that’s what she was — a survivor. And I am so proud of her. You will be, too, I am sure.
At 42, Mallika looked and felt not a day more than 35, and a very well-toned 35 at that! Her life was going great guns and her little world was perfect — a loving, well-to-do husband, 2 lovely daughters, a satisfying career and great social life. She couldn’t have asked for more. Hers was a charmed life indeed. But, apparently, it was just too good to last. As part of a public information and education programme about breast cancer sponsored by the MNC she worked for, she attended a seminar wherein women were exhorted to do a monthly breast self-examination (BSE) as the first step to screening for the dreaded disease. The next morning, she stood in front of the bathroom mirror and palpated her breasts just like the volunteer had described the day before. There was no lump, not even a tiny hardness, in the right breast. She was sure that the left one, too, wouldn’t show up anything either ... And then her breathing stopped ... What’s this? A small lump? No, it couldn’t be! Feel, Mallika, feel properly! she urged herself. Yes, it was definitely a lump!
The rest of the day passed in a daze, and on her way back from office, she paid a visit to her gynaecologist. And she wished she hadn’t. Though the doctor comforted her by saying that a breast lump need not necessarily mean cancer, she insisted that Mallika get a biopsy done to eliminate any suspicions of mammary carcinoma.
When the biopsy report came in, Mallika’s world came crashing down. The doctor’s otherwise friendly voice sounded ominous as she said, in the voice of doom as it were, “I am sorry, Mrs Kapoor. I am afraid you have breast cancer stage 1.
Since it has been detected early, we can arrest the metastasis.” The doctor’s voice droned on but Mallika heard nothing, felt nothing. The nightmare had just begun.
What followed was a horrifying round of visits to the gynaecologist’s clinic and finally to a nursing home. By this time, she had ample knowledge of breast cancer and mastectomy — her doctor had prepared her well — but knowledge does not replace experience. The medical professionals had provided her with promising statistics which prophesied an almost recurrence-free prognosis for her, but damn it, she was not merely a statistical figure — she was a woman, a wife, a mother, a daughter and there were emotions involved here.
What would happen if the doctors were wrong about the results of surgery and she died, instead? Wouldn’t her husband and daughters be completely lost without her? Suddenly, she realised that fear of death seemed like a pygmy in stature, compared to the fear of having to live with a disastrously changed body image and, more importantly, the effect it would have on her marriage.
Mallika had always been an extrovert and liked to share things with her friends. But life has a way of dealing blows which completely change you and everything about you. So with our Mallika. She was so benumbed with grief that she just clammed up and cut herself off from her friends and colleagues, much to their bewilderment...
And now, though she didn’t believe it possible, she had survived the surgery but faced the prospect of living a shameful existence —because what was a woman without one breast? The surgeon had dealt a severe blow on her femininity and she didn’t think she would be able to live with it. But Mallika was made of stronger stuff and counselling helped her realise that. Gradually, she was ready to go home and get a grip on reality. I did not hear from her for some time. And then 2 months later...
The phone rang in my clinic — it was a distraught Mallika on the line. “I’d like to meet you...
I need someone to talk to...” was all she said and we fixed an appointment for the following day. Her face looked drawn as she entered my clinic and sat down in front of me. “He...he is... seeing someone,” she said in a barely audible whisper.
She was obviously talking about Rajat, her husband. I silently waited for her to go on as I knew she would.
“I knew... I just knew he wouldn’t be able to love a one-breasted woman...he has always been a ‘tits man’... I told you he was attracted by my figure and now...He has not made love to me since... since the...surgery. Can you believe that he avoids looking at me without my clothes on? He actually leaves the room when I am changing! (sobs). Earlier, he used to grab me every time I took off even one item of clothing... he just couldn’t get enough of me...and now he is rejecting me...” (tears roll down her cheeks).
I tried to tell Mallika that most men need time to sort out their feelings about their wives’ mastectomies and learn how to deal with their (the wives’) anxieties and needs. Most of them are also unable to treat the wound casually and may even avoid looking at it — it is a normal reaction and one that can be dealt with.
But Mallika was not convinced. “You just don’t get it, do you?” she almost snarled. “My husband loved to look at and fondle my breasts, and now he doesn’t even glance at me.”
“Give him a little time to adjust,” I said.
“Oh yeah? He is adjusting all right — with someone else!”
“Are you sure? Because infidelity is a big accusation, you know.”
Mallika just sobbed and shook her head. “He doesn’t touch me at all.... and winces if I touch him. He pretends to be tired if I even caress him in ways that he used to find so exciting...Tell me, what shall I do... And then, day before yesterday, I found lipstick marks on his hanky... he must’ve wiped his mouth after kissing someone...”
“Look, let’s not jump to any conclusions here,” I said.
(Pensively) “A woman always knows...she can feel it... I can feel it...”
“Have you confronted him?” I asked.
Said she, “Yeah. And no points for guessing how enlightening that was!” Then she just clammed up and,
5 minutes later, got up and left.
Depressed and withdrawn, she only vaguely fixed her next appointment the following week. The scars of this surgery, like all other surgeries, heal all right, but the scars left on the woman’s psyche take a long, long time to heal...
As part of the counselling procedure, I decided to pay an unannounced visit to the counselee’s residence to see how the family was coping with the trauma of mastectomy, because it is an acknowledged fact that family members suffer many of the same anxieties the patient feels: shock, denial, anger and so on.
Mallika’s daughters seemed quiet and melancholic. It was heart-warming to see, though, that they were supportive of their mother in a non-verbal sort of way — holding her hand or putting their arms around her shoulders conveyed their sympathy.
But Rajat was a different story. There was an underlying animosity, as it were, in his behaviour towards his wife — in fact, the hostility was almost palpable. Most unfairly he blamed Mallika for “letting him down!” Gosh, how chauvinistic! He flatly refused to come for any counselling sessions — “I don’t need a shrink to tell me how to cope with my wife’s surgery because I don’t want to cope. In fact, I don’t have to. This is a raw deal and I have never taken kindly to raw deals. Just leave me alone.”
Days passed. Mallika kept coming for her counselling sessions and talked about the various problems she faced post-mastectomy — how she looked longingly at sexy lacy lingerie in shop windows while she had to stuff gauze in the left cup of her bra; how neighbours stole sly glances at you-know-what; how devastating it was to see her profile in the mirror and so on. But while Mallika grew stronger both physically and mentally, the chasm between Rajat and herself widened.
Her husband was not amenable to any professional counselling or advice from family or friends, but strangely, he did not ask Mallika for a divorce either. He appeared to derive sadistic pleasure from “punishing” Mallika for having got breast cancer and undergone mastectomy!
Then, one day, almost a year later, Mallika decided to terminate her marriage and took the bold step of contacting a divorce lawyer. She had had enough of the constant animosity and the uncalled-for guilt trip laid on her.
No more tears, Mallika, get a handle on yourself, she thought. Hadn’t her body-image and self-respect taken enough battering without having Rajat making cruel remarks and blatantly throwing his girlfriend at her face ? She knew that people pitied her, her daughters felt a little embarrassed about her, but she could have put up with all the pity, the forced attitudes, the inquisitiveness of aunts and neighbours, the trauma of buying undergarments and padding up one side, her own distaste at her reflection in the mirror — all of it could have been bearable if only Rajat had even been silently sympathetic. But that was not to be. Very well, then, let’s move on without each other, she thought.
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