SingaporeMotherhood | Parenting

August 2024

Breast Cancer gave Aisha Jiffry a New Lease of Life. Now she’s Helping other Women cope with theirs

By June Wan

Five years ago, Aisha Jiffry, 44, was going through the motions in a job that left her tired, uninspired, and with little time to pursue her own passions. Blessed with two children, she wanted more, and had started IVF treatment. Then a bout with breast cancer changed her life. Now, the mother of two is completing her masters degree, making a difference in her new career, and supporting other Malay-Muslim women as they navigate their journey with breast cancer.

“It goes back to the year 2017 where I opted for a bilateral breast reduction…

I was very large-breasted for an Asian, and had back aches because of that. After the reduction I was advised to do a mammogram every year. Since I was close to 40 (Aisha was 38 then) which is when you should start going for regular mammograms, I did.

My upcoming mammogram was scheduled for April 2020, but that was when the Circuit Breaker (because of Covid-19) started. So I postponed it to October, which was the next earliest date available. On that day I had to re-do the mammogram and the ultrasound so many times, and after it was over they told me I would get a text message with the results two weeks later.

But no, it was the next day. I was just like, oh my god, something’s wrong. They told me to go back and do a biopsy the following day.

(See also: CRYOABLATION: THIS NEW BREAST CANCER TREATMENT DEEP-FREEZES THE TUMOUR TO ITS DEATH — AT -170°CELSIUS)

So I did the biopsy. The next 10 days were a waiting game.

It was agony. I couldn’t sleep. I had insomnia. Did you know that the body can go for seven days without sleep? I could function at work, physically and mentally. I don’t know where the energy came from. But at home, I didn’t sleep. I was just thinking and thinking.

I watched Running Man to just keep myself upbeat. The humour helped me with my anxiety. Sometimes I would doze off while watching the show but then I’d wake up and find out that only five minutes had passed.

Then came the tenth day. My appointment with the doctor was at 3.30pm in the afternoon. At 9.25am in the morning, the clinic rang me. They asked, can you come in earlier? So I knew.

I cried in the taxi all the way from home to the hospital.

I cried until my mask was totally wet and the taxi driver asked, ‘You okay or not sister? You sick is it? You got Covid is it?’ By the time the doctor broke the news, I didn’t cry. She told me that my case was highly aggressive, and that they suspected that my breast cancer was between stages one and two.

So this was in October. And at that time I was also attempting IVF (In-Vitro Fertilisation). I was supposed to collect my medication in November and start taking it in December because my IVF procedure was scheduled for January. And now I could not continue.

I was crying again when I walked out. I can still remember how heavy my head felt. I called the IVF clinic. The clinic could not fit me that day but the doctor was so nice. She called me and said she would see me the next day.

She hugged me and said, ‘Don’t worry, Aisha. I will see you in two years. Nothing will happen to your blastocysts. Don’t worry.’

(See also: BREAST CANCER AND PREGNANCY)

The hardest part was accepting it. How could I get breast cancer?

There was no one in the family who had breast cancer. Was it my diet? Why was I the first in the family to have breast cancer? I think I was living in denial. You tell yourself everything is going to be okay.

I had to put on a positive front for my children. I didn’t want to cry in front of them. So everyone thought I was okay. But it was hard to accept the truth, and the separation anxiety I had with regards to my breasts. These are an asset to me; I’m a woman. How come I don’t get to keep these assets?

And how was I supposed to break the news to my kids?

They found out on their own. I was on the phone with my doctor and my friends, and my son overheard me. ‘Mummy, are you having cancer?’ Are you going to die?’ Then my daughter asked, ‘Is cancer contagious?’

I contacted my children’s school. I spoke to the school counsellor and said I needed help. Can you counsel my children? Can you make sure they are stable? The school was very, very, very supportive. The principal, the teachers, the school counsellor… everyone was very, very supportive. The school counsellor also gave me tips on how to manage myself when I was with them.

(See also: TELLING MY CHILDREN THAT I HAVE CANCER)

Before my surgery, I brought my children to Forest Adventure at Bedok Reservoir. We did everything, the climbing, the zipline, everything. I wanted to do something with them that they could remember me by.

After the surgery, when I woke up the next day, they came. I made sure they could see that I was awake and alive. For follow-up checkups, if my husband could not make it, one of the kids would accompany me for the appointment.

So this next part is quite funny. They scheduled the surgery on my birthday.

I said, no! They said okay, enjoy your birthday, we will see you the following week. It was the most horrible birthday ever. I was turning 41, and they say that life begins in your 40s, but how could I celebrate? I had all these thoughts: am I going to fall into a coma? Will I wake up?

I took that time to call all my friends, and because I had posted about it on social media, my friends also called. There were horror stories like how one friend’s wife who also had breast cancer opted for a lumpectomy, but it turned out that the surgeon had not removed the tissues completely so she had to go back for a second surgery. And how she relapsed three years later, and had to have a mastectomy.

I was leaning towards a mastectomy for myself, but I couldn’t make a decision.

So I got my friends and family to help me. I went for a second opinion, a third opinion, seeing different doctors. I also called my mum’s cousin, who is a breast doctor in Malaysia.

As this was during the Circuit Breaker, you could only have five visitors in your house. So I had five people come over, and the rest on Zoom. I gathered my in-laws, their husbands, and wives, my siblings and their spouses, and my mum, and explained everything.

My father-in-law came, and guess what he was wearing? A pink shirt! He didn’t know how to express his love and his concern in words, so he wore a pink shirt to show it. My step-mother-in-law said, ‘Aisha, I don’t know anything about all these options and surgeries, you just take it out.’

And I had to reveal to them about the IVF. No one knew as my husband Iqbal and I had kept it to ourselves.

(See also: WHEN SHOULD YOU CONSIDER IVF, IF YOU ARE TRYING TO CONCEIVE?)

So my surgery was postponed to the week after my birthday. But the day after my birthday, I got laryngitis.

My breast doctor said, ‘Aisha, what did you do in one week? You had a concert? Your birthday was last week. Your surgery was supposed to be this week. Now it’s postponed to before Christmas. What did you do?’

My surgery was scheduled to be on the 21st of December, a Monday. On Friday, I messaged my doctor the poop emoji. I was running to the toilet non-stop. He told me that it was normal because I was nervous. I said yes, I am having separation anxiety with my breasts.

Then I freaked out. I called my plastic surgeon and asked him to run through the surgery with me again. I asked if I could have implants (though I had originally opted for diep flap breast reconstruction surgery). I asked if he had implants in my size in stock. Then I asked if the implants would explode if I took a flight after Covid was over. I truly freaked out.

On Monday, the day of my surgery, I was still very nervous.

I emailed my children. I emailed as though that was my very last day on earth. So it was a very emotional letter, saying I love you no matter what, and in case anything happens to me, please remember that.

Two days after the surgery, when later the report was out, it said that I had had a highly aggressive form of ductal carcinoma in situ (DCIS). But my lymph nodes were affected, so how was it DCIS right?

But I guess miracles do happen. I was praying so much, and I had people who prayed for me in Mecca when they went on their pilgrimage. There were a lot of people praying for me, and I believe miracles do happen.

The surgery lasted 13 hours. When I saw my plastic surgeon, I asked him, hey doc, since you are already doing an implant on my right breast, and a reduction on my left to match the right, can you do liposuction on my stomach? 

It’s not that I was only concerned about my figure. After the surgery, when the breast doctor came, he said they had managed to remove everything. My first question was, ‘Cancer out already right?’ And he said yes. So I had nothing to worry about anymore right? 

So after the surgery I was happy with my body. I was just shocked because my breasts were blue. I joked to my doctor that the only thing missing was a golden wig, else I could be Smurfette!

What I didn’t know was that these jokes were actually a sign of depression.

Four days after being discharged, when my children were in school, my husband was at the office, and my helper was at the market, I broke down. I couldn’t get out of bed.

I had been enquiring about further studies and the institution messaged me to ask if I wanted to join the March intake. I asked about the January intake, and they said it was starting the next week. I asked if it was too late to join. He said I could, provided I passed the entrance exam, which I had to take online, and then do a Zoom interview. So I did that.

It was a highly intensive three-month course. I focused on that and hardly remembered what I just went through. After the course ended, and I passed, I had nothing to focus on. That’s when my depression really started. That’s when I started thinking, ‘What just happened to me?’ And it kicked in. I had cancer. I went for surgery. And then I just cried.

I Googled “breast cancer helpline in Singapore” and one of the results that came up was “Breast Cancer Foundation | Cancer Support”.

I rang the helpline and spoke to a staff member there. The support I received from the Breast Cancer Foundation (BCF) helped me come out of depression. I became actively involved in their support group sessions and other activities they organised.

Through another cancer warrior, I found out about Ain Society, a voluntary welfare organisation that provides support to cancer patients. I joined their support group sessions and attended their activities too. The support I got from both organisations helped me heal.

So I decided to give back and help others. When I was going through my journey, there wasn’t a Malay-Muslim survivor whom I could speak to, who could relate to what I was going through. That is why I want to be a befriender for the Malay-Muslim community, to let those who are newly-diagnosed know that they are not alone in this journey. Many women feel isolated or stigmatised, and by speaking up, we can break down those barriers and provide much-needed support.

It’s uncommon for Malay-Muslim women, especially those wearing hijabs, to be comfortable talking about breasts.

The Malay-Muslim Community is generally afraid to go for screenings. Therefore, sharing and reaching out to this community to help create awareness is important to me.

I’m breaking the cycle and assuring them that this isn’t a taboo topic, and that they are not alone. Reach out to get support, and be comfortable talking about your body. Sharing your journey helps in your healing, helps inform others that there is a community of cancer support so you aren’t alone, and also helps create awareness of how health screenings like mammograms, as well as regular breast self-examinations, can help save lives and save our breasts.

I took a year of no-pay leave, but had to postpone going back to work for another two months because I had lymphedema.

I couldn’t raise my right arm. It was so heavy and painful. I had surgery for that, and used my SkillsFuture credits to take up a lymphatic drainage course, an aromatherapy massage course, and a reflexology massage course to help myself with my own self-care.

But my job was extremely time-consuming, and eventually I decided that my health was more important. I left without another job, but I had my teaching certificate. So I got a teaching job, and did some volunteer teaching as well. This was under the UNHCR, the UN High Commissioner for Refugees, to teach English to Rohingya refugees. I did that Sundays to Thursdays, two 45-minute lessons per day, for six months. And after that I got a lecturing job.

Through my teaching experience I learnt about children with learning difficulties because they have functional needs. So I decided to take a double diploma in child psychology and inclusive needs, and then do my masters in special inclusive education. My daughter was taking her PSLE (Primary School Leaving Examinations) so I said to her, ‘Let’s study together.’

Would I consider my breast cancer episode a blessing?

Yes in a way, because it was detected early. I had nearly wanted to postpone my mammogram, but I followed my gut feeling.

This also made me wake up and realise, family is important. And that I value life, and I value moments with my children.

Also, without cancer, I wouldn’t have upgraded my skills. I’m currently doing my Masters, which I will complete this August. Without cancer I wouldn’t have taken the step to leave my old job and join the teaching force, to become an educator.

Everything happens for a reason, and it was a blessing in disguise. The silver lining to me is that it gave me hope, and got me closer to my family.

For women wth breast cancer who are finding it hard to stay positive, I would tell them that it is okay to feel overwhelmed.

Honestly, it’s not easy to stay positive. But surrounding yourself with supportive people, practising self-care, and seeking professional help will definitely help. Everyone’s journey is unique.

As for me, I found out what helped me to regulate was books, hence I decided to carry on studying. Perhaps it’s because it kept my mind occupied, and I like sharing my newfound knowledge with my family and friends.

From seeing me go through this experience, I hope my children learn the importance of resilience, courage, and compassion. I want them to understand that challenges are a part of life, but it is how we face them that defines us. By staying positive and seeking support, we can overcome even the toughest obstacles. I also want them to see the value of community and helping others.

Regarding breast cancer, my advice to women is to prioritise regular screenings and breast self-examinations.

Early detection can make a significant difference. Maintaining a healthy lifestyle, including a balanced diet and regular exercise, can also contribute to overall well-being. Most importantly, don’t be afraid to seek support and speak up about your experiences. Sharing your experience can help others and create a supportive community. Remember, you are never alone. Don’t isolate yourself. Reach out, it’ll help you in your healing journey.

(See also: MAMMOGRAMS IN SINGAPORE – SUBSIDISED BREAST CANCER SCREENING PROGRAMMES & COSTS)

Featured image: My children are always with me as they are my strength. I want to show them that I am okay so they don’t have to worry. Dr Matthew Yeo (my plastic surgeon) and my kids are displaying the flexed biceps emoji; we are staying strong. 

All photos: BCF/Aisha Jiffry

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