HERS Breast Cancer Foundation :: Bras for Body & Soul

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The HERS Breast Cancer Foundation, a 501(c)(3) non-profit organization, provides programs and services supporting the needs of women and families affected by breast cancer in the San Francisco Bay Area.

Bras for Body & Soul®, a program of the HERS Breast Cancer Foundation, provides medically necessary items such as bras, prosthesis, lymphedema sleeves, wigs and more, to women who have had breast surgery. We also carry bras appropriate for all women and girls, including nursing bras.

Tributes >> Nacha Subramanian

The day that changed my life forever…

It was another spring day (March 5, 1993) as I awoke feeling the freshness of the morning. Stretching my limbs, as I said a quick prayer, I jumped out of bed with a great deal of anticipation. You see, in my mind, I had already decided it was going to be a great day and I was going to receive wonderful news.

It was the news I had been waiting for, news that my family and friends had been waiting for. I was scheduled to meet my Doctor at 10:30 that morning to get the results of my breast biopsy. (My last mammogram showed signs of calcification for which I had undergone a biopsy) There was no way the news was going to be anything other than good. It didn’t even cross my mind that I would hear otherwise. I made plans to go straight from the Doctor’s office for an ice cream with my husband and then we were going to make phone calls to family in India and friends here. We were going to celebrate!!

I rushed around getting things done with excitement, anxious to go the Doctor and get the good news that I was in the clear. I even told my husband that he didn’t need to accompany me to the Doctor and that I would call him at work with the good news.

[At right, Nacha and her husband, along with friend Tricia, at KEEP ABREAST 2000, the HERS annual 5k breast cancer event in Fremont]

I am glad, however, that he turned down my offer and took me to my appointment. As I sat waiting for my Doctor to enter the room, my mind was dancing and my heart was pounding a different tune. I began to feel mixed emotions. The minute the Doctor entered the room, I darted the question at him: “What are the results of my biopsy, Doctor?” He replied calmly, “How do you feel today? Lie down and let me examine you.” Seeing that I was not going to lie down or do anything till he talked to me, he said, “Maybe we should go into my office and talk.” My stomach turned and I got this queasy feeling and I knew what I was going to hear next. My husband and I walked into his office and sat down, afraid of what he was going to say, but anxious to hear it anyway.

He took his own time, pulled out some papers from my file, and said: “I have good news and bad news, which do you want to hear first?” Almost at the same time, I said: “the bad”, my husband said “the good”

The Doctor looked puzzled and I could see compassion on his face and I knew that his job was going to be difficult. How do you tell someone that their life is going to be turned upside down? How do you tell someone who is young that they have a deadly disease?? It can’t be easy. He started off gently with the bad news. I was diagnosed with Ductal Carcinoma Insitu. “Tell me in plain words Doctor”, I said and he replied, “My dear girl, you have cancer.” (I was 37 at the time) Terrified, I lapsed into shock. I associated Cancer with death. The peril of that jolted the very core of my being. Tears rolled down my cheeks so fast, and I remember making a fist and pounding on his desk, yelling: “Why me? What did I do to deserve this? It cant be. Are you sure, Doctor?”

(Thinking back later, Why not me?) No Doctor, no one, utters anything but the truth about something like this. It was my mind hoping that he had the wrong patient’s chart, or maybe the pathology test was incorrect. He said to me kindly. “Don’t kill the messenger, honey.” You see, my Doctor was a kind, older gentleman with a bow tie and a softness about him, whom I found out later I was really fortunate to have as my surgeon. (He actually called me every few hours the night after the surgery to see how I was doing)

All this while, my husband sat in the chair next to me, wide eyed and said nothing. He was in disbelief as I was, but I was visibly upset. We then talked about various options of treatment and the next steps. We all decided that that was enough to deal with for one day and that we would reconvene this meeting at a later date next week.

We drove back home in silence. There was no ice-cream parlor, no celebrating, just tears, and more tears. I was in denial. I was angry. I was scared. I thought I was going to die.. That ominous word Cancer had gotten the best of me.

We pulled up to the house and our two boys (wonderful boys I might add) ran out to the garage with anxiety written all over their faces. Wonder what was going through their minds. They knew what the news was when they saw our faces. No one spoke for a while. I ran up to my room and cried. The three men in my life, stayed downstairs, not knowing how to comfort me or what to say.

The next 3 weeks seemed like an eternity. I moved bleakly through those next weeks, secretly thinking I was going to die. That time was spent solely on getting second, third, fourth opinions, talking to friends who have had cancer, to our Doctor friends, doing a lot of planning, reading up about the subject. I did a lot of praying. It has been my faith in God that has sustained me through all my ups and downs in life. Those three weeks were grueling and agonizing, not only for me, but for my family as well. We called extended family and close friends to tell them about our latest news. Saddened, by this, we had a lot of well wishers stopping by the house with flowers, cards, food and just good wishes.

Nothing, however, lessened the grief that I was feeling. I thought my whole world was falling apart. All I could think of was that I was stricken with a deadly disease and hadn’t built up the energy to fight it yet.

It’s hard to summarize what exactly happened in the 3 weeks following. We visited lots of Doctors, made phone calls and read up as much as we could-collectively, my husband, sons and myself. My husband and children shouldered my anguish. If I didn’t feel like talking, they understood. When I talked, they listened. We were all in this together.

The good news that the Doctor was trying to tell me about was that I was in the very first stage of breast cancer and that it was curable, treatable. Those 3 weeks, I did a lot of crying, a lot of feeling sorry for myself. In fact, I did not much else. My family is a strong unit and we have been through many crises together, so they were determined to pull me out of this one. The turning point in my attitude towards this, was one day when I was cooking, I turned my head and saw my husband standing by the kitchen sink with tears rolling down his cheeks and his eyes met mine. I was reminded of the first song we shared together, twenty five years ago - Strangers in the night exchanging glances. Only, this time, we were exchanging glances but were certainly not strangers, we were soul mates. He said to me very quietly: “My life will freeze without you. What will I do if anything happens to you?” Now, this is a man that hardly shows any emotion and is always calm and collected. He is my pillar of strength and I had never seen him like this. Something snapped inside of me and I decided that I had to fight this and not let it take over our lives. I had two young boys dependent on me and I wanted to see them grow up and be there for them. I wanted to see my grand children. I lost my father when I was 16 years old and didn’t want my children to grow up without one parent. I could take action, have a positive attitude and do what was necessary to pick up the pieces of my life, or I could succumb. I chose to fight it. Life has hurled pretty heavy blows to me in the past and I have always managed with the help of my family and God’s grace to overcome them.

One statement that my Aunt, Valli Akka made to me during a phone conversation was also very significant in my change of thought. She said to me: “Nacha, you have cancer, cancer doesn’t have you, so fight this with all you have.” That is exactly what I decided to do from that moment on. I picked up my shattered emotions and mustered up all the courage and strength I needed to take the next step. I put on a brave face, prayed a lot, talked to friends, family and co-workers, who were all very supportive of me during this trying time in my life. I went about doing what I needed to do before I decided on the plan of action.

I spoke to all our Doctor friends, and with all their advice and with the different opinions we got from various hospitals including an all day clinic at Stanford, we made the big call. I opted for a mastectomy and the date was set for March 25^th 1993- my mother’s birthday and the day after my birthday. It was ominous. My brother Al traveled from Singapore to be with me, my mother came from India and my brothers, Muthu and Kasi came from Los Angeles. My brother Ramu offered to fly from India, but we had him stay behind to handle things in my mother’s absence. He was with me in spirit. (And still is - my dear brother passed away in January 2000). My cousin Lakshmi and her husband Shanker, also stayed with us all through this ordeal and were a vital part of my support system. My cousin, Chetty from Boston, was a daily phone support. Of course, my husband Subu and two boys, Krishna (14 years at the time) and Nachi (10 years) were by my side offering support, and love. I cannot even begin to go into a list of people who people helped me, but my undying gratitude to them all.

The day before the surgery was the scariest - my stomach churned and my head was marching to the tune of 100 drummers. My brothers had a birthday cake for my mother and myself. I could hardly keep a fake smile on my face and my brother Al chided me that this wasn’t the end of the world. And so it was, the next day was inevitable…

Checking into the hospital and getting prepped for surgery seemed routine for the nurses, but for me, it was like my world was coming to an end. My brothers were offering to donate blood in case I needed it. Clients lined up outside the OR along with family to offer their support. I remember waiting for my turn to go into the OR and my family and friends came in one by one offering words of courage and support. I can honestly say I don’t remember a word anyone said. I was in my own world - my heart pounding faster than ever, tears and more tears. The kindness shown to me by everyone in my life was overwhelming and I believe it was primarily that which gave me the courage to go on.

The next thing I knew, I awoke to a room filled with flowers, so many flowers that my Doctors commented it was like a florist shop. I opened my eyes to friendly faces. Pain slowly surfacing. It’s all over I thought! Was I mistaken!! It was the beginning of months of recovery - intense physical therapy, building back up of strength, both mental and physical. I went home the next day and so started the next chapter of my life. My mother stayed with me for 3 months and nursed me back to health, for which I can never repay her. Her undying love and support gave me much needed strength at the time.

It has been 10 years since that dreaded day. It struck like a flash of lightening, and streaked through my life. It changed me forever. I can honestly say that I am a better, stronger person for what I have gone through. I am thankful for every single day, for it is a gift from God. I stop to smell the roses and try not to sweat the small stuff. I have been lucky enough to get a second chance at life. I have tried to inculcate a healthy diet and exercise routine. My faith in God remains undaunted. Family and friends play a more significant role in my life. I know I could not have done it without them and would not be here without their unconditional love and support. I am grateful to all that played a part in my recovery and mental healing. They were there for me, in spirit, prayer or person.

So, as I celebrate this milestone of 10 years being Cancer free, my heart sings with joy and hope for the future. To all those who are facing anything remotely similar, to you, I repeat the old adage: “this too shall pass.”