Commentary: Cancer is my latest curveball in life, and here’s why I’m not keeping it under wraps anymore 

In my middle age, I find myself continually slapped with life’s unpopular labels: Divorcee, job-hopper and, about eight months ago — cancer patient. 

Last October, I spent my 49th birthday having a radioactive drug called a tracer injected into a vein in my arm, which induced a cold sensation moving up my arm. I had to wait 60 minutes for the tracer to be absorbed by my body. 

Next, I had to lie on a narrow table that slid into a scanner that looked like a giant doughnut hole. I was told to hold very still for the next 40 minutes, during which the machine made deafening buzzing, clicking and clanging noises. 

At the end of the nauseating ordeal, the scans threw up bright spots on my right breast. 

The verdict was in: I have cancer. 

It was also Breast Cancer Awareness month.

MID-LIFE ADVENTURES NOT FOR THE FAINT-HEARTED  

The next couple of weeks were a blur of tears, confusion, and shock. 

But as a seasoned individual with high-functioning anxiety, I made medical decisions for myself swiftly, and lunged at the procedures the doctors had laid out for me. 

These included a two-hour lumpectomy, five days of radiotherapy treatments, and long-term use of Tamoxifen, a selective oestrogen receptor modulator medication I must continue taking for the next five years. 

This was a harrowing experience even for a mid-lifer who has been served many of life’s health curveballs including uterine fibroids, insomnia and, currently, perimenopause. 

But life goes on. I’m only halfway to the end, if the 100-year-life is indeed a thing.

I started 2024 as a caregiver to myself and resigning from a promising career at the Agency for Integrated Care, one I had worked hard to kickstart.

It was particularly meaningful to me because I liked engaging with seniors, I could apply my newly minted Masters of Applied Gerontology from the Singapore University of Social Sciences, and importantly, I was finally at a level (assistant director) which was closest to what I’d previously earned in the corporate world. 

I ushered in Chinese New Year with muted enthusiasm, largely from the bad news of cancer, but in part because I had to abstain from my all-time favourite, bak kwa.  

Post-cancer, the oncologists’ orders were that I had to exercise more, eat less fatty food, and think happy thoughts. 

Anatomically, I was no different from before. Physically, I tired more easily. Emotionally, I was a mess. 

Over the next few months, I went through rehabilitation and counselling services at the Singapore Cancer Society. 

Twice a week, I attended “Strength Training ABC” (After Breast Cancer) sessions, as well as diet and nutritional consultations. 

The multi-disciplinary care team at the Singapore Cancer Society — receptionists, exercise trainers, social workers, counsellors, dieticians and doctors —provided excellent integrated and holistic care for me, helping me rebuild my body, mind, and soul with buoying cheer. 

Eventually, I got mentally and emotionally stronger. I decided to look for a job and found Caregivers Alliance Limited (CAL). 

Having spent 23 years of my career as a corporate storyteller, I am still finding my footing and niche in the social services sector. 

Since crossing over in 2020, thanks to the open-minded hiring managers that I encountered in Rainbow Centre, Tsao Foundation and CAL, I have had the opportunity to work with persons living with autism and multiple disabilities, seniors, and, presently, caregivers to loved ones with mental health issues and dementia.   

FEELING LIKE A FAKE AT WORK 

I feel like an imposter in my current place of work because they are unaware — or at least I’ve not told them — about the Big C. 

But neither did I conceal the truth. I indicated “divorced” in the employment application form, and during the pre-employment check-up, I informed the doctor that I had recently undergone surgery, radiotherapy treatment and am on breast cancer medication. 

My therapist at Singapore Cancer Society questioned my need to withhold this information at work. We dedicated several sessions analysing my conundrum. 

In the end, the truth emerged: I wanted to be judged for my competence at work, and not my cancer. 

While I was comfortable being vulnerable with friends, family and colleagues, I wasn’t open to pity from everyone. 

I was reluctant to have my doting aunts — all in their 70s — worry about me when they have health and ageing issues of their own. 

I didn’t want to be a burden to others. 

And so, I was able to share the news only with my inner circle. (Many will read this commentary and be shocked.) 

Even though I have my reasons for keeping my health status under wraps, I feel like an imposter at work because many of my colleagues in CAL are caregivers or persons in recovery. 

At least three colleagues are caregivers to siblings with schizophrenia. At least another three are caregivers to parents with dementia or depression. 

A handful other colleagues are recovering from anxiety disorder, attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder, depression, and schizophrenia. Some have even openly shared their experiences of past suicide attempts. 

Worse, in my role in communications, I encourage caregivers who have benefitted from CAL’s caregivers-to-caregivers training programme to step out, tell their stories, and advocate for mental health and caregiving, to reduce the stigma around mental health. 

Perhaps the biggest guilt trip came in early May, when we launched CAL 4 Mental Wellness, an annual campaign to promote mental health awareness and caregiving and fundraise to support and empower mental health caregivers. 

In this campaign, we call these caregivers “Hidden Heroes”. The irony is not lost on me.

HIDING NO MORE 

A couple of weeks ago, I received an invitation to attend an event commemorating the inaugural Cancer Survivors’ Day by the Singapore Cancer Society. 

The event took place on June 1. President Tharman Shanmugaratnam, patron of the society, was the guest of honour. 

Counselling and CAL have both helped to build up my confidence and to realise, after this much-needed adjustment period, that my cancer diagnosis does not define me.

With these things falling into place, this invitation seemed to pull the trigger on the starting gun for me.

I’ve decided that I am now ready, eight months on, to step into my light and live my truth. 

Cancer may have taken a small lump from my breast, but it has given me renewed perspective and purpose. I live my life in fast-forward now, focusing on meaningful pursuits that make me happy.  

Strange as it may seem, cancer has become not a death sentence for me, but a new lease on life.   

   

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: 

Ryp Yong is a gerontologist and currently the head of communications at Caregivers Alliance Limited.